The Debonair Duke (29 page)

“Do you really think that chap may make an attempt to steal the jewels at our ball?” Sir Cecil asked the duke, a worried look in his eyes.

“Time is growing short. So far there has been no question regarding the tale about the great-uncle. I almost believe it myself, I’ve told it so often.”

“What will you do?”

“I intend to keep a close watch on Pamela, and if that sends a few tongues wagging, it’s too bad. I shall also keep a pistol handy in the house, with your permission. Pity that evening dress doesn’t allow for a bulge of that sort,” he concluded with wry humor. “However, it might be wise to have a Runner on hand, just in case.”

Confident that all could be accomplished in record time with Pamela to assist Lady Anne and willing servants to carry out her every whim, the ball was set for a week’s time.

Acceptances poured in, covering the library table in no time at all.

“I think you will have a sad crush, dear Anne,” Pamela said, omitting the title as her friend now insisted. “Even Lady Vane and Lord Raeburn have accepted.”

“I thought it proper to include them, although I do not know them well at all. The picnic, you see.”

And Pamela saw perfectly. One always repaid social obligations.

* * * *

Wednesday night at Almack’s was aflutter with the latest scandal. A baron’s daughter had run off with her footman, taking some of the family jewels with her.

“You see,” the prince said when he conducted Pamela through a dance, “there are women who will
use
jewelry to a good purpose.”

“I doubt her parents look at it that way,” she said.

“Bah! Scruples! That is well if you can afford them.”

Pamela was glad she did not care for the prince. She would not wish to be married to one who thought as he did.

The vicomte was little better in his view of the matter, thus disappointing Pamela, who’d thought more of him.

“I should find myself a little maid who would bring me the contents of her father’s safe. Would you
chérie?
Would you bring me that splendid necklace if we ran off together?” That richly seductive voice chilled Pamela when she considered what he said and implied. She was insulted that he would dare to ask.

“No,” Pamela replied, flashing a look of disdain at him. Was this it? Were his intentions to lure her away so he might snatch the jewelry?

Leaving the dance floor he failed to return Pamela to her mother, going to the refreshment room instead. After handing
her a lemonade, he ambled at her side, brooding upon something.

“Is
everything all right?” she finally asked.

“No
,
but I cannot involve you. Debts of honor, you understand. I have paid all I can; the fellow demands more. Perhaps I can find another lamb I will not mind fleecing.”

“Forgive me if I do not wish you well in your quest.” She understood only too well. Perhaps the money was owed to that man he’d given the packet the night she and the duke had trailed him? He needed money, and for some odd reason he was not to seek it through her. She supposed she was grateful in a way, but it stung to know that it was the necklace and her fortune that had brought him to her side.

She was not sorry to leave Almack’s.

* * * *

The following days were spent mostly with Lady Anne, urging her to rest while Pamela saw to dozens of details necessary to insure a successful party. Since Anne’s gown was blue, blue and white flowers were ordered from the florist, little blue dishes for the foods to be served—all ordered from Gunter’s. Blue bows decorated pillars, urns, and just about everything else. When queried on the bows, Anne had a simple answer
.

“Well, I am going to provide dearest Cecil with his heir, and I think it a lovely idea.”

Put that way, the bows made perfect sense. And even had they not, Pamela wouldn’t have said a word.

* * * *

The evening of the ball found Pamela with her nerves on edge. That the duke was convinced the crook would make an attempt this evening did not give comfort. It made her wary and suspicious as she studied each man who entered the house to see if there might be something ominous about him.

“Reached any conclusion as yet?” the duke asked quietly at her side. At her startled look, he laughed and continued, “I have learned how your mind works, and I guessed you would examine everyone for signs of impending thievery.”

Hoping he did not know all her thoughts, she merely nodded. “Silly, I know, but it does make me uneasy.”

“Do you suspect even your friends?” he questioned softly as the prince entered with a flourish, wearing white again and looking spectacular. Behind him the vicomte entered the room with that wealthy young woman who had the fortune along with a bland face and freckles, not to mention the ruby pendant.

“I believe I have been supplanted,” Pamela said, not answering his query about her friends. She turned to greet Lady Vane.

“Lady Pamela,” Lady Vane said with a gentle smile, “you look ravishing this evening. Each gown you select to display the jewels is more superb than the last, I vow.”

“Thank you, Lady Vane,” Pamela said absently, noting that the duke had left her side to greet Lady Smythe. The exquisite courtesy he displayed to that woman was enough to turn any young woman green, and Pamela in particular.

“It seems they are old friends,” Lord Raeburn said when he paused beside Pamela and noticed the direction in which she was looking. “He seems to enjoy her company, as do a number of others, I might add.”

“She is quite beautiful,” Pamela said in a light little voice.

“Indeed.” He looked at Pamela, then gazed about the large drawing room with speculative eyes. “Everyone is here.” He sounded pleased.

Pamela was distracted by a request from one of the serving maids. She was needed to solve a minor crisis.

On the far side of the room, the duke listened to the social chitchat issuing from Lady Smythe while scanning the guests to take careful note of who had arrived and what they wore. Bearing in mind Pamela’s description of a slender man above average height, he was able to cross off a considerable number of men, thus reducing the possible suspects. He admitted—to himself, only—that he was uneasy about the evening. It seemed so simple. Merely to keep tabs on slender, moderately tall men? He noted that Pamela walked over to join them. Lady Smythe discreetly drifted away.

“Well, what do you think?” Pamela asked quietly as the musicians struck up a waltz. Lady Anne had insisted that there be
a great number of waltzes this evening. Since it was her celebration, who would argue?

“We shall talk while we waltz. You are exceptionally light on your feet and dance the waltz as though born to it.” He swept her into his embrace and began circling the room in perfect tempo
.

Pamela remained silent a few moments to savor the feel of his arms about her, knowing full well that if they solved the mystery, this evening could likely be her last opportunity to dance with him. Others joined them—mostly those who had engaged in the morning waltzing parties. They made a lovely, colorful pattern on the floor, had Pamela bothered to look.

She couldn’t, for her eyes remained focused on the duke’s face, memorizing every line. Why had she never guessed the beauty that could be held in gray eyes? The rich depths, the warmth!

The duke watched the changing expression on Pamela’s face. What her thoughts held he could only guess. She looked like a princess this evening, the low-cut gown revealing more of that splendid bosom than it really ought. The sapphires and diamonds sparkled against her soft skin. The tiny puffed sleeves trimmed in exquisite lace emphasized her slim, perfect arms, and the cut of her gown accented her breasts, her tiny waist, and nicely rounded hips as well. Pamela had once referred to herself as ordinary. Would that the world be blessed with more ordinary women, were that the case.

They were close to solving the case; he felt heightened tension in the air. Yet he had no intention of ending matters with Pamela. He had mentioned her name to his redoubtable mother the other day. That good lady hadn’t blinked an eye but merely nodded, saying that Lady Pamela came from good stock, had a respectable dowry, and was a pretty behaved girl. High praise, indeed.

And…she was going to be all his! There was no way in the world that he would permit another man to know those enchanting kisses or the feel of Pamela trustingly snuggled up against him. Robert thought she would slip into the role of his
duchess with perfect charm, just as she entered his arms with such impeccable grace.

Both of them were reluctant to part when the waltz ended. Pamela felt a trifle dizzy, but expected it came from being in the duke’s arms and not just revolving about the room.

“Come with me, my dear,” the duke insisted quietly but firmly, “we must go over our plans once again.”

Willingly going along with the duke—although she hadn’t a foggy clue what plans he meant—she avoided eye contact with any gentlemen, lest she be compelled to accept another’s hand for a dance when that was the last thing she wanted at the moment.

He led her straight to the small conservatory at the rear of the house. Closing the door behind him—most improperly, he knew—he drew Pamela into his arms and proceeded to kiss her as he had longed to do these many days. And nights. Oh, yes, indeed, the nights.

The delight of it all was that she did not resist him in the least, but yielded so sweetly to his caress and kiss. His hands slid over the satin, learning the curves and hollows of her, cherishing the reality of his dreams.

A sound in the hall brought them both to their senses.

“Forgive me, I seem to yield to impropriety far too often when tempted by you,” he said, holding her close for a moment, then releasing her.

“You do seem to like having your way, as I believe I said once before,” Pamela whispered with a smile when she drew away. “You mentioned plans?”

“It was a ruse,” he admitted, “but we shall talk more later. As to this evening, simply beware of everyone.”

“How dreadful, to suspect one and all.”

“Much as I’d rather remain here with you, my sweet, we had best return. Pause in the withdrawing room for a few moments so to draw away any comment from us.” As he spoke, he led a bemused Pamela along the hall, giving her a loving, gentle nudge when they reached the withdrawing room. “I will await you in the ballroom.”

She stared at her flushed, starry-eyed face. Anne had placed a bowl of rice powder on the table with cotton-wool puffs to use. Pamela fluffed a bit of powder on her cheeks and nose, then patted her hair before turning to leave.

Lady Vane entered just as Pamela reached for the doorknob. “How lovely to see you here. My, you do look splendid, my dear girl. A special gentleman?”

Pamela merely smiled mysteriously and nodded.

“How nice,” the gentle lady replied with a soft smile. “Is there a maid around? No? I wonder if you could help me with a flounce I seem to have torn. There, in the back.”

“There are pins on the table. I can try to pin it in place if you like,” Pamela offered, admiring the rich blue ballgown with its long sleeves and slender skirt. A single flounce decorated the gown and had been sadly ripped at the back hem. Pamela couldn’t figure out how, because the gown didn’t trail on the floor in the least. Well, there were extremely clumsy men—she had danced with a few.

“How sweet you are,” Lady Vane commented when Pamela knelt to pin the flounce in place, crushing her own gown slightly in the process.

“There you are, all done,” Pamela said, rising quickly to her feet and returning to the door again.

“I understand there is to be a splendid repast later. Did you help Lady Anne? I suppose so, for I’ve noticed you are very close. How nice for you, but then, things seem to come your way quite easily.”

Pamela frowned at the words, thinking they didn’t sound quite right. “Would you like to see the tables?”

“May I? That would be lovely.” Lady Vane slipped her hand around Pamela’s arm, clasping it tightly. It was a contradiction to her softly spoken words that puzzled Pamela.

“Oh, is this the library?” Lady Vane paused in the hall, tossing Pamela an appealing look. “Do you think I might have a look at it?” She pulled Pamela into the room without waiting for a reply. “What a perfectly charming room. And the window!” she exclaimed, drawing Pamela over to stare out at the night. Nothing could be seen, but Lady Vane seemed enthralled. She turned to examine the rest of the room—the
shelves of finely bound books, the magnificent desk and leather chairs, and a lovely globe that occupied a stand near the door.

The room held precious associations for Pamela. She studied the woman at her side, wondering what could possibly draw her to this place
.

“Ah, there you are, Julius,” Lady Vane said in a softly satisfied way.

Pamela looked up to see Lord Raeburn framed in the doorway. He entered the room. Julius? That sounded overly familiar for Lady Vane to say to a gentleman.

“Actually, he is Egbert Julius, but prefers Julius, as do I,” Lady Vane purred.

“Indeed,
my
Lady Pamela. You said you would do it, and you have.” He added to an obviously confused Pamela, “Did you know you and Lady Vane share first names?”

Utterly bewildered, Pamela stared first at Lord Raeburn, then Lady Vane. Was she dreaming? “Do what?” Pamela decided to ask, feeling more and more uneasy.

“Bring you here,” he replied with a sly smile.

Stunned, Pamela looked from one to the other, her mind spinning as she assimilated the information. He was Julius, Lord Raeburn, J.R. She was Pamela, Lady Vane—called Lady Pamela by Lord Raeburn. The pieces fell into place with startling clarity. Oddly enough, she remembered that Lady Vane lived not far away down a side street in Mayfair. A respectable address, and the number matched that of Gresham House.

Mounting fear possessed her. Pamela placed her hands protectively to her throat. “What is going on here? Why are you both staring at me that way?”

“You must have guessed. We want the necklace, my dear Lady Pamela,” Lady Vane’s caressing voice commanded. “How fortunate you are that I am not a vindictive creature, else I’d pay you for that bump on the head and the graze on my arm.” She smiled sweetly at Pamela. Only it seemed to her that the smile had a deadly quality to it. There was no hint of meekness now.