The Debonair Duke (13 page)

Not bothering to look for more Pamelas in the book, she turned her thoughts to the prince. Judging from his attire, he did not appear to be penniless. Of course, clothing might be less costly in Russia, but she doubted it. Although she had no knowledge of the matter, she doubted if a London tailor would be inclined to create beautiful garments for a foreign prince unless his credit was good. There was no denying that his raiment last evening was nothing short of spectacular.

So why would a man who was not poor steal the necklace? For excitement? Danger? Why? No solution offered itself.

As the day wore on, the rain abated, and when the time for afternoon calls arrived, it was no more than a faint drizzle. Not expecting any callers, Pamela was surprised when word was sent for her to join her mother in the drawing room.

She recognized the women who graced the drawing room, having met them the evening before, but admitted great surprise to see them in her home.

“Lady Vane, Lady Smythe, how lovely to see you again,” Pamela said with a proper smile pinned to her face. Then Grimes brought in two charming bouquets of flowers from gentlemen with whom Pamela had danced the evening before and conversation turned to the ball.

“How well I recall the days of my own come-out,” Lady Smythe said fondly. “It seems like yesterday.”

“It cannot have been so very long ago, for you are quite young,” Pamela said courteously.

“What a charming girl,” Lady Smythe said with a delightful laugh.

Pamela listened to the others exchange pleasantries while assessing the two women. They seemed opposites. Lady Smythe looked jaded; an experienced woman of the
beau monde.
From the way she spoke, it seemed as though she was familiar with the duke
—
quite
familiar, in fact. Of course, she had been among his guests at the theater. She must be of his set—or something. On the other hand. Lady Vane was a quiet, genteel woman with lovely manners who seemed eager to fur
ther her acquaintance with Pamela. The widow was more of an age and a person with whom one could feel at ease.

“I could not help but notice your friendship with the Duke of Wexford,” Lady Smythe said with a flutter of her lashes. “He is such a kindly, generous man. Blythwood Park
—his principle seat, you know—is quite beautiful. Should you have the opportunity, you must view it.”

Pamela could only describe Lady Smythe’s look as pitying, possibly patronizing, and decided she did not like this lady overmuch. And whatever His Grace might be,
kindly
and
generous
obviously had another meaning to this flame-haired madam.

While Lady Smythe engaged Lady Gresham in a discussion of the fabric used in one of the ball gowns seen last evening, Lady Vane quietly asked Pamela how she had enjoyed the Sefton ball.

“Quite the nicest of the Season, I believe,” Pamela replied, hoping she didn’t sound pretentious.

“That was such an amazing necklace you wore. So many people commented on it. Is it truly from your great-uncle with a request you wear it in memory of his true love?” She gave Pamela a hesitant, almost timid smile.

“Most assuredly true,” Pamela admitted.

“You must find storing the necklace a burden, for those jewels are so very precious.” Lady Vane smiled in sympathy for such an onerous task. One did not have the keeping of such fabulous jewels every day. “The newspapers contain stories of thefts so often.”

“Quite so,” Pamela agreed, but did not reveal what her methods were. That would be imprudent. Naturally, Lady Vane was unconnected to the jewels
—such a gentle, sweet woman would never be involved in something so horrid—but an innocent might allow a word to slip out without realizing it.

The two women were preparing to depart when Grimes ushered in another guest
—the Duke of Wexford.

Lady Vane turned to Lady Gresham, saying quietly that she must leave for she had several duty calls to make. She slipped from the room with no more than a murmur to Pamela and a simple curtsy to His Grace.

Across the room Lady Smythe sank back on her chair with a flirtatious smile at the duke. “What a lovely surprise to see you again so soon
,
Your Grace,” she said with what Pamela considered to be a purring note in her voice.

Pamela decided that she liked Lady Smythe even less.

“Good day,” he said politely. Then the duke turned his attention to Pamela. “I suppose you did not ride out this morning, what with that rain. I imagine the prince will make arrangements for another day,” he suggested. He did not appear to particularly enjoy the thought.

“La, the prince is quite the latest rage,” Lady Smythe said with a flutter of eyelashes. “How clever of Lady Pamela to have attracted his attention.” Her ladyship turned a charming smile on His Grace. “I was truly impressed to see how taken Prince Radinski was with Lady Pamela. Oh, to make the conquest of such a dashing gentleman. He quite took the breath away of any number of ladies. But it was plain to see only Lady Pamela captured his interest.”

Apparently detecting something in Lady Smythe’s manner that she could not quite like, Lady Gresham inserted her thoughts on the subject. “I feel certain that with such perfectly splendid friends
—such as the duke and the Radcliffes—and the support of her family that my dear Pamela will have the opportunity to meet a number of highly eligible gentlemen before the Season is over.”

The implication was clear that Lady Gresham fully expected Pamela to be able to choose from a presentable selection. It was almost as though a gauntlet had been tossed on the floor, Pamela thought with humor.

“I do believe Prince Radinski admired my necklace more than my company,” Pamela said modestly. “How lovely that my great-uncle elected to send me the jewels to aid in my come-out.”

“A girl can never
have too much help, I fancy,” Lady Smythe said with a smile that implied much.

“You married at the end of your first Season, didn’t you,” the duke said in a quiet voice. “Lord Smythe was a gracious gentleman. Pity he died so soon after your marriage.”

“Indeed,” Lady Smythe said with a total lack of expression in her face or voice.

A rather shocking thought crept into Pamela’s mind that Lady Smythe did not appear all that desolate at losing her husband. She decided to check the peerage to learn more about the woman if possible.

The time considered proper for a call had passed for Lady Smythe, and she reluctantly rose from her chair. “I must bid you adieu, madam. Lady Pamela as well, but only for the nonce.” She turned to the duke, clearly expecting him to accompany her, but she was disappointed in this and left the room in an annoyed flurry of skirts
.

Pamela thought the notion of Lady Smythe in a huff because she did not have her way utterly delightful.

The duke chatted politely for a moment longer, then rose to depart as well. “Walk with me to the bottom of the stairs, if you please
,
Lady Pamela?”

She glanced at her mother for approval, then graciously walked with their guest while wondering what he intended to say that he didn’t want her mother to hear.

“You know there is cause for caution,” he said just before Pamela reached the last step.

She paused, looking at him with concern. “I am more than a little aware of that, Your Grace.”

“The prince will seek you out I feel sure. He likes a title, and you have the extra advantage of the jewelry and dowry.”

“I imagine you experience a great deal of that sort of interest
,
Your Grace,” Pamela said with a daring she didn’t know she possessed. “There must be any number of women who try to find ways to attract your attention.”

“Toadying sycophants are all too common, I fear,” he admitted. Then he smiled, that charming sort of smile that lit his eyes so they gleamed like gray satin. “Do not worry, we will find out the truth one of these days. I shall hie myself off to Bow Street to see if I might learn anything new there.”

“Fine,” she managed to say after recovering from the impact of that glorious smile. She stood at the bottom of the stairs after he had left the house, thinking about that smile and wishing she were even more daring.

The following day proved quite lovely. As anticipated, Pamela received a note from the prince requesting the pleasure of riding with her that morning. She returned an affirmative reply with his servant and went to dress.

In a riding habit of purest sky blue trimmed with black braid
à la militaire,
Pamela thought she looked more than presentable. Her hat was a dashing version of the shako, only more petite. The admiration she saw in the prince’s eyes made her efforts well worthwhile
.

“A royal princess!” he exclaimed softly when he bowed, then took her gloved hand to place a light kiss in the air somewhere above it. He added a few words that presumably were in Russian, and she wished she knew what they meant. For all she could guess, he might be saying that the hunt for the sapphires would not be so painful after all.

They clattered along the streets until reaching the greenery that was Hyde Park. Once there, they were able to comfortably converse while ambling along at a pleasant walk. If the prince were impatient for a dashing ride, he didn’t show it. His costume for the morning consisted of a deep blue coat over white pantaloons and waistcoat, and Hessians that reflected the sun in their black leather. His manners were quite as polished as his boots, his words as well.

Pamela’s cheeks had turned that wild rose pink with the flurry of flattery pouring from his lips. It seemed that he had a wealth of encomiums if not money.

“Do you attend the theater this evening?” he inquired while looking about the area at the other riders who were joining in early morning exercise.

“No, I believe my mother fancies attending a rout at Lady Beckett’s. Is there something of particular interest?” Off in the distance Pamela noticed a familiar figure astride a pale gray stallion. He controlled the magnificent animal quite as easily as he appeared to control everyone around him.

“I had hoped to see you there, my princess,” he said with a burning look at Pamela that was so outrageous she felt it highly insincere. What a mercy she was not a green girl straight from a Bath school and that she suspected what truly prompted the prince’s behavior and words. She would have been far and away in love were she not protected by her knowledge. No English gentleman would behave like this.

“Good morning
,
Lady Pamela, Prince Radinski,” the duke said with exquisite politeness as he rode up to them. “A pleasant change from yesterday
,
I believe.”

They chatted about the weather for some moments while the duke studied Pamela. Then he rode off after bidding them an agreeable ride.

* * * *

Robert wondered what that scoundrel of a Russian prince had said to Lady Pamela to bring that blush to her cheeks. The delicate tint of the wild rose enhanced her prettiness, even more so with the added contrast of that rich blue. Blue became her, he decided. She ought always to wear blue and would if he had the saying to it.

Then his thoughts returned to the reprehensible foreigner, and he wondered what effort, if any, the prince might make to claim the jewels. He couldn’t demand them after the story that had been put about regarding the great-uncle and his unrequited love affair. So what might he do? Steal them, of course. Pamela must be warned to be on guard against a burglar. Sensible girl that she was, she would no doubt have them safely in her father’s vault by this point. Or would she?

Determined to protect his little friend, the duke decided he had best call on her as soon as possible. The earliest a gentleman might make a proper call was after eleven in the morning. Presumably, nothing would happen until then.

* * * *

Pamela had half expected the duke to contact her to find out what occurred on her ride with the prince, so she was prepared when a message was brought to her that he awaited her in the drawing room.

“Your Grace,” she said breathlessly, although she had not really hurried. He simply had that effect on her, taking away what little breath she had saved up with his polished magnificence and presence.

Rose sat herself down just inside the door, knowing better than to attempt to listen or watch.

“You looked very charming this morning in your blue habit on your pretty little mare. She suits you.”

Startled at his fine words, she blushed and stammered something in reply that must have pleased him for he smiled very nicely at her.

“The prince?” the duke said with a raise of his brows. “I did a bit of sleuthing, and I could not find anything of particular help. All we know for sure is his interest in the jewels and you.”

“The prince was all that was proper
—which I venture to say is more than can be said about Lady Smythe,” Pamela said with a suggestion of a snap to her voice. “She hinted that she is
very
well acquainted with Your Grace, going on about the beauties of Blythwood Park.”

He frowned as though utterly perplexed. “She has never been there to my knowledge. However, she may have been escorted through the house by my housekeeper in my absence. Quite a lot of this country house visiting goes on, you know.”

“True,” Pamela agreed, feeling absurdly pleased at this explanation. “As to His Royal Highness, Prince Radinski, he is most assuredly a flirt, but a nice one. He alluded to the necklace again, but most circumspectly.”

“You are not tumbling for that chap’s sham charm, are you?” the duke said with apparent alarm.

Pamela was tempted to tease him a trifle, for he deserved it
—he was assuming far more than he ought. But relenting, she demurely shook her head.

“You need not worry on that score. His words of praise are too fulsome; flattery becomes silliness when overdone. I have tried to guess what his intentions might be and confess I am at a loss.”

“I think he might attempt to steal the necklace.”