Free When You Give a Duke a Diamond by Shana Galen

not— Duke . I do not have a Christian name.”
    She raised a thin brow at him. “I cannot believe your fiancée’s dead body grows cold by the moment, and you sit here and argue etiquette with me.”
    “Then tell me your name.”
    “No! If I have to call you Duke —”
    “I already explained—”
    “—then you may call me Duchess .”
    She had cut him off! The nerve of the chit—to interrupt him! He was of a mind to throw her back out onto the street, but a tiny part of him rebelled against the idea. What if what she said was true? He hadn’t been able to find Lady Elizabeth in the ballroom. And his ears were still ringing from the pistol shot.
    He clenched his fists and steeled himself. His association with this Cyprian would not be long-lived. He could tolerate her insolence for a few more minutes.
    “I am William Henry Charles Arthur Cavington, Viscount Southerby, Marquess of Rothingham, and sixth Duke of Pelham.”
    She clapped. “Bravo! What a lovely recitation of your numerous names and titles. I think I shall call you Will .”
    He started, tried to stand, and bumped his head on the roof of the carriage. “No, you most certainly will not!”
    She held out her gloved hand. “Hello, Will. I’m Juliette.”
    He gave her hand a scornful look. “I shall call you Mrs…?”
    Her ice-blue eyes darkened to sapphire. “I’m afraid I can’t tolerate my former husband’s surname. If you wish to address me, you’ll have to call me Duchess or Juliette.”
    She was divorced. He should have realized as much. He could not conceive what man, who once in possession of this Juliette, would ever divorce her—unless she drove him mad, which she was obviously quite capable of—but that was beside the point.
    Divorced women were not accepted into Polite Society. A courtesan and a divorced woman. He shook his head. He must be rid of her quickly.
    He cleared his throat. “Very well, madam. Tell me what you think you saw this evening.”
    “You keep saying that.”
    “Because you haven’t answered the question yet.”
    “No.” She shook her head as though he were the dimwit. “You keep implying I imagined what I saw. I did not imagine it, Will. I wish to God that I had.”
    He bristled at her use of the familiar address. In his whole life, no one had ever called him Will . Even his own father called him William , when he had called him at all.
    “But I did not imagine it.” She raised a hand, her gloved fingers playing with the velvet curtains. He wanted to tell her to let them be. They were tightly closed to keep the prying eyes of the crowds at bay. And he rather liked sitting here in the dim glow of the lamps with her. He liked the play of the candlelight on her pale, delicate skin.
    Perhaps he should allow her to open those curtains. But she didn’t. Instead, she caressed them, the action making him suck in a slow breath as he watched the path of her fingers and imagined she were touching him. He shook his head. He must find Lady Elizabeth and be rid of this bewitching courtesan.
    “I was taking some air on the balcony when you and your fiancée approached. I heard you tell her you would fetch her pelisse.”
    “Eavesdropping.”
    She scowled at him, but somehow the gesture didn’t mar the beauty of her face. “I was there before you, and I would not have been there at all had you not cut me.” She held up a hand before he could reply. “But that is not the point.”
    She began to say something about a man jumping onto the balcony, kissing Lady Elizabeth, and asking about diamonds. Pelham tried to concentrate, but she wasn’t quite making sense. Lady Elizabeth kissing Lucifer? And had this courtesan, this Juliette, really held up her hand a moment ago to cut him off?
    “Mrs.—madam,” he finally interrupted. “If my fiancée has been murdered, as you say, where is her body?”
    She frowned. “I told you. He dumped it over the balustrade.”
    “Then it should still be there.”
    “I suppose. I