The Debonair Duke (9 page)

“Mama says that wickedness is always easier than virtue. I suspect she is right. We must proceed with the lists. We have gone too far to cease now. But, I believe we had best figure out what comes next. Do you not agree?”

She gave him a worried look, then turned to her copy of the peerage to commence the continued perusal of the pages of names that seemed to go on forever.

Robert coolly appraised Lady Pamela as she resumed scanning the pages for names. She was right. This was not the best solution, and he was at a loss to know how best to proceed. Several things occurred to him, but he suspected that his client, if you might call her that, would take a dim view of what he had in mind.

He continued to toy with his pencil while he considered what he had experienced this afternoon. He had always enjoyed dancing, the waltz being no exception, for it offered a delightful proximity to a lady. He had to confess he was puzzled by his reaction to Lady Pamela. She was demure, proper, all that she ought to be
—yet there had been this amazing rapport between them, as though they had danced before, indeed known each other for a very long time. He could not recall being so completely in tune with another woman before.

She appealed to him in the most unusual way. There was an innocent sensuality about her. He was certain she was quite unaware of it. He had known the oddest urge to forbid the other men from dancing with her, as though it profaned something sacred
—which was utter nonsense, was it not?

So, where did it place him in this investigation? He quietly snorted in disgust.

“Did you say something
,
Your Grace?” Lady Pamela said, clearly startled at his sound of impatience.

“No, nothing at all. How do you come?” He peered over at her top page, depressingly free of names.

“Not well, I fear. Some letters of the alphabet offer better luck than others. I can only keep going.” She sighed, placing her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her folded hands. “It is so dreadfully boring. That’s a terrible admission to make, I fear. But ‘tis true, none the less.” She bestowed a smile on him that lit up her pretty eyes in a charming way
—made her look like a mischievous angel.

“Do I detect a rumble of discontent among the natives?” Lady Anne cried from the doorway.

Lady Pamela turned, abandoning her pose that made her took so angelic and said, “If you can find a native willing to slog through these dratted names, by all means pull him over here.”

“Goodness! Is it truly that dreadful?” Lady Anne crossed to the table to peer over Pamela’s shoulder at the book and the empty paper. “Here, allow me to help, I’ll scan this page while you write, when and if I find a Lady Pamela.”

“That ought to cheer you,” added Robert.

“I found a Pamela on that page, but she is not a lady.” Lady Pamela said wearily, then looked confused when Anne and he burst into peals of laughter.

When he could stop his chuckles, Robert took pity on Pamela and said, “And how do you know she isn’t a lady? Is there a star by her name implying such in a footnote?”

To his delight
,
Lady Pamela blushed that absolutely charming wild rose again. “Oh, dear, I did say that, didn’t I!”

“Robert, you are an utter beast,” Lady Anne declared. “Stop teasing the dear girl at once.”

“You laughed as well,” Robert said in defense of his amusement.

“So I did.” Anne giggled again. “Truth be known, I believe there are quite a number of women in this book who aren’t ladies.” Which remark sent them all into a fit of laughter.

“I believe we might as well quit for the day,” Lady Pamela said with a fond look at her new friend.

“Actually, I have completed my section,” Robert said, pushing back his chair from the table while closing his copy of the peerage with a thud. “The list is not long, but does not look promising.”

“It is progress of a sort, you must admit,” Lady Pamela said with a disgusted look at the book she used, the marker somewhere at midpoint.

Robert rose from his chair and went around to assist Lady Pamela and Anne. “We shall think on this,” he said when the two ladies faced him.

“I hope you might come to an interesting conclusion. We need something to force the issue, I believe,” Lady Pamela offered as she turned to the door. As they began to stroll to the front door, Robert slipped a hand beneath Lady Pamela’s elbow and sensed her tension.

“Perhaps I might take you home?” he inquired with a diffidence he didn’t feel.

“If it is not too much trouble, I would appreciate it,” Lady Pamela said with that delightful hint of rose once again rising to color her cheeks.

Arrangements were made to meet again with the hope of completing the work
—this time Robert assisting Pamela. Anne offered her help, which was promptly accepted.

“I shall begin from the back of the book; I am certain to have a bit of spare time later on or early in the morning,” she said blithely.

The Duke of Wexford left the Radcliffe house with the gentle and proper Lady Pamela on his arm, wondering if he had taken leave of his senses. She was not his usual sort of flirt. She was not his usual sort of interest at all. So why did she intrigue him? It would take study, and of course that would take time and exposure to the pretty Lady Pamela.

He would help launch her into society, for although her mother might be a countess and her father an earl of distinction, the fact remained that Lady Pamela had not been seen in the right places with the right people. Even at Almack’s she danced with the most dreary of chaps. That simply would not do.

“I suppose you have a full evening?” he said by way of finding out what her plans were for this night. “Your mother most likely selects the entertainments she believes you would enjoy?”

“Tonight we attend a concert of antique music again. I am growing to appreciate it, I believe,” Lady Pamela said with a doubtful look into his eyes.

“Interesting,” Robert replied, hardly noting his response. He found her eyes held intriguing depths.

* * * *

While their carriage jogged along over the cobbled streets, Robert said, “I have checked again with Bow Street, and there has been no report of a necklace answering to the description of the one in your custody. I understand that spy activity has been on the rise of late. The necklace could be in payment for that sort of thing.”

“The term of ‘Lady’ might even be a joke of sorts, and this Pamela isn’t a lady at all.” The young woman at his side chuckled softly, most likely recalling her earlier words about the Pamela that was no lady. “My governess used to call me Lady Jane Gray when she thought I was acting pretentiously above myself.”

“And did you?” Robert inquired. At her look of puzzlement, he added, “Act above yourself? Somehow I cannot envision such a thing. You are undoubtedly the most proper young woman I’ve yet to meet.”

“If I am it is because Miss Osborn saw to it that I knew my manners. Mama would have fired her otherwise.”

She clasped her hands tightly in her lap and looked forbiddingly grim when she made that statement. Had he not seen those hands, and the tight line about her mouth
—which relaxed moments later, he’d have though little of her reply.

And what of it? He had been birched a good many times while at home under the tyranny of his tutor, then later at Eton. Most chaps had known the same treatment. He could sympathize with strict discipline. He had long ago realized that it produced people of fiber and backbone.

“At least you are free of your governess and I of my tutor,” he said lightly.

“What a lovely achievement, although it was most likely because we grew too old to require them,” she said with a wry smile.

“No problem with the jewels as yet?” he said when they drew up before her home.

“I do worry about keeping such a valuable piece tucked up on my bookshelf. Makes my sleep a trifle uneasy. And I especially dislike leaving it there during the day. What happens if my maid decides to dust the shelves while I am gone and finds them? She would take them straightaway to my mother!”

“Are most of your day gowns high in the neck?” Robert had observed that all her gowns to date, with the exception of the charming thing she wore now, had been high-necked. When she gave him a puzzled nod, he continued, “You could wear the necklace beneath the gown. Put it on once your maid has finished dressing you. Surely, you have a few minutes to yourself in the morning?”

“I do,” she agreed. “And yes, I fear that most of my gowns are properly high in the neck. Mama demands a demure frock; she believes most unmarried women dress scandalously. Our mantuamaker does as Mama wishes.”

“And what do you wish?” he asked, knowing he ought to escort her to the front door where the butler stood awaiting the young lady of the house.

“It really doesn’t matter, does it? At least for now.” She turned to leave the carriage, then paused, facing him again. “But someday I shall go to a premier mantuamaker and order whatever is the kick of fashion, hang propriety.” She realized her blunder a moment after she uttered the words, giving a vexed laugh. “What is it about you, Your Grace? You have the most dreadful effect on my speech!”

He joined her laughter, thinking she was a delightfully mixed bag of womanhood. After he had assisted her from his carriage, he returned to it, but not before instructing his driver to take him off to Rundle and Bridge again.

* * * *

Pamela slipped past Grimes, dashing madly up the stairs to her room. Rose was elsewhere.

Running to the bookshelf, Pamela pulled forth the leather case and gave a sigh of relief when she found the glittering jewels safe. He had suggested she wear it. Gingerly, she picked the sapphire-and-diamond extravagance from the bed of velvet, then draped it about her neck.

Crossing to the looking glass, she studied the effect of the blue-and-white gems against her bosom. Disturbing, it was, to see those magnificent jewels against her own soft skin. It made her want to possess them, and she could understand why some women would do a great deal to own something like this.

She fastened the clasp, then slipped from her waltzing gown. In the back of her wardrobe she found a favorite dress of soft blue kerseymere piped in ivory with pearl buttons down the front, so she did not need Rose to assist her. It had a frill around the neck and the wrists, and made her feel like a character from a play about old Queen Elizabeth. All she needed was a red wig.

It felt decidedly odd to have the weight of the necklace against her bare skin. There was something almost wicked about the notion of concealing the gems in such a manner. Yet she expected the duke had the right of it. It would never do for the jewels to be discovered, particularly by Rose, who would hurry them to Mama.

And Pamela did not want to consider the questions that would come with them. It didn’t bear thinking about!

Slipping from her room, she quietly went down to the drawing room, where she thought she might find her mother.

“Ah, Pamela, my dear,” her mother cried when she saw her dutiful daughter enter the room. “Tell me about the waltzing party,” Lady Gresham demanded.

“It was quite lovely,” Pamela replied in her gentle voice. “The duke instructed me most politely, and I waltzed with almost all the gentlemen in attendance. Everyone there would be found in Papa’s peerage. The duke’s particular friend, Algernon Thynne, Esq. was there, and he is the heir of Baron Lyndon.”

“I believe I recall meeting the baron. ‘Tis rumored he is vastly wealthy. When one does not have a gamester in the family, it is possible to accumulate a goodly fortune,” her mother observed.

“I believe that to be most true,” Pamela agreed, wishing she might escape this questioning, yet knowing it to be inevitable. She went on to name the others who had attended, reeling off a list that sounded like a page or two from the peerage she had been pouring over the past days.

“And about the waltz? Did it not seem somewhat wicked in nature?” her mother probed.

“Actually, it was splendid,” Pamela said in a rush. “I did not become dizzy as I had feared. The gentlemen were most considerate. Lady Anne insists it will not be long before the ladies at Almack’s yield to the popularity of the waltz. I wonder who will demand it and succeed?”

“Most likely the Countess Lieven,” the countess mused. “Or perhaps the Princess Esterhazy. Lady Sefton is not the sort, nor do I believe Emily Cowper would bother. She is too wrapped up in the doings at Melbourne House. Lady Jersey is a possibility, of course
,
” the countess concluded.

The footman entered with a tray bearing all the necessary items for a substantial tea. Pamela prepared a cup of tea for her mother, then added the lemon and sugar as desired, handing it to the older lady with all the grace of a lady in waiting.

“Ah, there you are,” the earl said, peering around the door. Spying the tray and tea set out, he proceeded to join them.

Pamela poured for her father as well, mentally preparing herself for whatever was on his mind.

“Your mother tells me that you attended a waltzing party earlier today,” he began after taking a sip from his cup. “How did you fare? Is
it a difficult dance to perform?”

“I believe I did well, and no, it is not difficult. One must only be on guard against dizziness
—that constant turning, you know. But despite that, I quite enjoyed it. The gentlemen were all splendidly behaved and the young ladies most proper.”

Pamela sipped her tea, grateful for something with which to occupy her hands.

“Tell us more, dear,” her mother gently commanded.

“There was a dancing master who watched us and made corrections where necessary. The duke was an excellent teacher, for we needed very little adjustment. Lady Anne had a light meal set out for any who wished to partake of refreshments after we concluded the dancing.”

“You say the Duke of Wexford taught you the waltz?” the earl said, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Indeed, Papa. He is most proper in manner. But then, I rarely find a gentleman who is not.” Pamela wondered what it might be like to have a man behave other than with excruciating propriety toward her. It was beyond her imagination.