The Debonair Duke (8 page)

Breathless, although she had not rushed, Pamela calmed herself once she entered the Radcliffe house. The duke approached from the rear of the house, which surprised Pamela.

“I stable my horse to the rear, thus I come in along Shepherd’s Court to the mews. Should there be a nosy busybody chancing past, he or she would never connect us together.” His tone was wry.

“How considerate you are,” Pamela murmured, resolved never to allow His Grace to be placed in a position of the faintest degree of compromise. It was obvious that he did not desire it in the least.

She had brought her greatly expanded list with her, and now placed it on the table along with the books and papers that had been set out for their use.

“I see you have continued to work on your compilation,” the duke said with approval.

“If I consulted the peerage only while I was here, it would take ages to complete.” Pamela said, turning her attention to the paper on the table. It was far too tempting to fix her gaze on the duke, for in that direction lay trouble, possibly heartbreak.

Sensibly, she concentrated on the copy of the peerage before her, trying to complete her list as swiftly as possible. How nice of
Debrett’s
to offer such a neat compilation of the peerage, although she doubted if she needed to note those of Scotland and Ireland. Somehow, she suspected that the
Pamela
sought was English.

When Lady Anne entered the library, Pamela was only too ready to stop, however. If she studied those lines of print very long, the words tended to blur.

“A hasty bit to eat,” she cried, “then you must come along to the drawing room where the others will soon be assembled. I have found the most elegant little musical ensemble to play for us. Come now, do partake of this repast I have brought you.” She gestured to the tray carried in by the footman. It contained a lovely salad, rolls, meat pies, and a pot of hot tea.

“More later,” she said while peering at the sheets of paper containing the neat list of names Pamela had copied out. “My, there are more Pamelas than I anticipated. I expect a list of Anne’s would be staggering!”

The duke chuckled at this. Then he looked to the man in the doorway and said, “Your charming wife has declared we would be staggered at the number of Annes to be found.”

“Ah, but there is only one like her, Anne Elizabeth Radcliffe
,
” Sir Cecil declared fondly.

Pamela hastily completed the light meal, glancing at the duke to note that while he did not appear to hurry, he also consumed his food with speed.

* * * *

The moment she observed the plates were empty and the cups drained
,
Lady Anne whisked everyone along the hall until they reached the exquisite drawing room, decorated in the height of fashion in delicate gold and blue on a background of pale cream.

Off to one corner of the room sat a trio of gentlemen, one at a pianoforte, the others with clarinet and violin in hand. The dancing master stood center front, watching all.

The gentlemen dancers all wore slender-tailed coats, discreet waistcoats, tightly fitting knee breeches or pantaloons, and black dancing slippers. Their fanciful cravats were the only touch of embellishment to otherwise sober array.

The young women were in contrast like a flock of extravagant butterflies captured in all delicacy of color, their silks and muslins swirling about them in refined elegance. Pamela was pleased to note that her simple gown was most appropriate for the occasion.

Lady Anne introduced Pamela to all of the group, adding bits and scraps about most of them. There were pleasant jests, but Pamela detected, or thought she did, a faint nervousness in the other young women. It made her feel enormously better.

“I know you have not attempted the steps as yet,” the duke said at her side. “Now, put aside the worries of that necklace and concentrate on what I tell you to do.”

As custom decreed, she wore a pair of spotless white gloves
—removed while she wrote and now restored to tense hands. Pamela nervously moistened her lips and stayed close to the duke as they began to form a circle.

“Head erect, chin up, smile,” the duke ordered softly as he led her to a place along the side of the room. He positioned her so they stood face-to-face, slightly to the right of each other. The duke took her right hand lightly in his left, then slid his right arm behind her back, saying, “Place your other hand lightly on my shoulder. The beat is three-quarter to a measure, as you will soon sense.”

Pamela was quite certain she might expire on the spot. Never had she been in such an intimate position with a gentleman. No other dance required the couple to face one another in such proximity.

Before she might protest, the music began, a beguiling rhythm that compelled her feet to move in time, matching the duke’s steps. Around and around they went, breathlessly, almost dizzily. She had no time to think of steps, of what she ought to be doing, or where her feet must be positioned as in the past. She could only dance.

The dancers turned continually while they revolved around the room. There were no steps forward or backward, no change, it was all a continuous whirl of pleasure.

“Do not be so serious,” the duke admonished lightly. “I shan’t allow you to collapse when we cease this spinning about the room.” When he chuckled, she wondered what was revealed in her face.

Pamela wondered whether it was the actual dance that made her feel light-headed or the closeness of the most debonair of gentlemen, the duke.

The music stopped, and the duke did as promised. He retained hold of her a moment, then asked, “Do you feel quite up to standing on your own?”

“Oh, yes,” Pamela said, while actually wondering if she might collapse in a heap.

Their dancing master, who had been standing in the center of the revolving group, clapped his hands, then said, “I shall point out a few things to every couple. Please do remain in place until I have spoken with every pair.”

Since the duke held precedence, the man came to them first. “Your Grace is extremely graceful, as is your partner. If I might suggest this with the hands”
—and he instructed what he desired in a change of position.

To Pamela it was incredibly shocking. Now she could understand why the waltz had been so frowned upon, why her mother was so hesitant. It was one thing to observe; it was quite another to stand so close to a man such as the duke, with his arm snugly about her and her body almost skimming his, her own hand resting on that manly shoulder, her other hand held so gently in his. Never mind they wore gloves, she could feel the strength of his clasp in her hand. She was of a height to reach his cheek, so it was not a difficult matter to gaze into his eyes. Indeed, it seemed impossible to look elsewhere.

He smelled manly but clean, she decided, not at all like some she had chanced to be made aware of while in the press of a throng. It was a mixture of something that pleased her nose very much, whatever the content, and the light tangy scent that seemed a part of him.

By this time, the dancing master had completed the small circle of friends. Once again the music began and the dance resumed, revolving around the room.

“One, two, three
—you see, it is not so difficult after all,” the duke said lightly, pulling her closer when they were about to collide with a slower couple.

“Not so difficult?” she said, sounding quite as breathless as she felt.

“You are a natural waltzer. I would think you had tricked me and taken waltzing lessons did I not know what an honest little creature you undoubtedly are. I shall make it a point to seek you out as a partner for the waltz when next we chance to grace the same ballroom.” His gray eyes gleamed with his seeming pleasure at the prospect.

Pamela was utterly speechless at this handsome commendation. What had begun as a plea for help from the master at solving crimes had turned into something else, something she could not define if her life depended on it. One thing she knew for sure, her life would never be the same again.

Even if she did not capture the interest and heart of the duke, he had opened the door to the inner realm of society, that fashionable group of young people where Pamela sensed her mother desired her daughter find a husband. One of these gentlemen was undoubtedly destined to be her mate. Who it might be really didn’t matter, she supposed. It was enough that she belonged here.

It was a pity that she had a decided partiality for one she could not have. But there you were. Things like that happened. It was enough to have the happiness of his utterly newfound friendship; the dancing and physical closeness was lovely.

“We must change partners now,” the duke explained. “It will assist you in becoming accustomed to several different styles of dance.”

Another partner, a different style. Pamela strongly suspected that there was not another man in the room who could match the duke for grace and elegance. And although the dancing master had certainly done his job well, she was proven right.

Chapter Five

She had danced the waltz with nearly every gentleman present. None of the others affected her like the duke. The amiable Sir Cecil had chatted pleasantly. The ginger-haired Algernon Thynne, Esq. was a charming waltzer and made light conversation of the sort that did not demand a great deal of attention.

The remainder had varied between talking and concentrating on their steps. They had been quite charming. None had permitted Pamela to become so dizzy that she required a restorative.

However, her mind kept returning to the nagging question of who the Lady Pamela might be that ought to have received the necklace. And what gentleman would defy convention to present her with such a gift?

Pamela had been offered lovely things and had always refused them as gently as possible. Her mother would have had palpitations had she not. But Pamela had never wished to be under obligation to a gentleman she did not care for in the least. It seemed dishonest.

Perhaps the other Lady Pamela would also have refused this offering? In her heart, Pamela felt it to be otherwise, for there was that matter of “dearest” to consider. She had noticed that the duke had a sizable listing of gentlemen with the initials of J.R. Would any of them prove guilty?

“They have all gone,” Lady Anne declared when she returned from seeing the other guests off following the cold collation, which was enjoyed after the waltzing. Dancing tended to make one hungry. “Did you enjoy your waltzing,” she said to Pamela with a curious gleam in her pretty eyes.

“Indeed. I did.” Pamela smiled politely at her hostess, for she had provided the opportunity for a most delightful time. Then she heard the duke coming down the hall from wherever he had gone with his host. She turned to face him.

“Are we to resume our search?” she inquired when he joined Anne and her in the hall. “I had thought our efforts over for the day.” She doubted she could concentrate on it.

“Since you do not look the least fatigued after a strenuous afternoon of waltzing I propose we cover a few more pages before we cease for the nonce.”

“It goes so dreadfully slow,” Pamela protested to Lady Anne at the door to the library. “There are so many other matters demanding attention, and I, for one, find it difficult to creep away to my room to go over those fine lines of print. After awhile, it goes all hazy.”

“I imagine it does tend to drag a bit. We shall have to consider an alternative, perhaps.” Lady Anne turned to her husband and said, “What do you think, Cecil? Shall we consider another means of finding out who the other Lady Pamela might be
,
as well as the man, J
.
R.?”

“Give us another day before we decide that,” the duke said from over Pamela’s shoulder.

She froze, terribly aware of his nearness. It was almost like the waltzing, only this time he pressed closely to her back. She took a tiny step forward, for the last thing she wished was to make a scene before these lovely people. He immediately stepped away to enter the library.

“Well enough,” Sir Cecil said by way of agreement, walking away down the hall with Lady Anne at his side.

Pamela approached the library table where the Duke of Wexford was now seated with just a bit of reserve. Dancing the waltz had broken a restraint between them. Did it do that to everyone? She doubted it, for she could not detect the least change in attitude from other gentlemen she had partnered. Nor did she feel anything toward them. Not the slightest. Well, she comforted herself, she doubted if His Grace had the least notion how he affected her
,
so she was safe from discovery.

“I do not think this is going to work,” the duke said quietly from his side of the table.

“Why do you say that?” In a way, Pamela was glad to hear she was not the only one developing reservations about their scheme.

“Who is to say that this J.R. is one of us? Think about the men who would not be listed in the peerage. He might be a distant relation that would never be counted among the immediate family. He might also be a man of a lower class. Had you considered that?” The duke sat back in his chair, fiddling with his pencil again while he awaited her reaction to his words.

“I had not thought of that. I did wonder what we would do with our lists of names once we finished going through the books. Consider
—what course do we take if we decide that a particular Lady Pamela is the one we seek? How do we know for certain? Can we straight out ask her if she has a gentleman she considers “dearest” who would send her such a magnificent piece of jewelry? She might say no merely to deny that she could be in such a position—for it would place her beyond the pale in society. In which case, we are no better off than we were in the beginning.”

Pamela walked to the table and daintily seated herself opposite him. She studied the duke’s face while she allowed him to digest her words. It was clear that he was not pleased with his thoughts.

“It most definitely would not be easy for a woman to confess to this,” he mused with the air of one who has spent a great deal of time around women. “To admit such a thing places her in a bad position and implies a great deal of wickedness.”