Free The Debonair Duke by Emilyn Hendrickson

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