When You Give a Duke a Diamond Page 4

  “Oh!” Her hands flew to her mouth. Pelham gestured for her to turn around and secured the necklace on Lady Elizabeth’s throat. He moved a dark curl of her hair aside to fasten the necklace and frowned at the mark he saw. “What did you say happened to your neck?”

  Lady Elizabeth stiffened, but when she turned to him, she smiled and waved her hand dismissively. “My maid burned me with the curling tongs. I do think I shall have to let her go.”

  “I should think so.”

  Lady Elizabeth crossed to the mirror above the fireplace and turned from side to side, brushing her hair so it covered the mark on her neck again. “This necklace is simply beautiful, Your Grace. You say it was your mother’s?”

  Pelham nodded. He was not the sentimental sort, but his mother had died when he was ten, and the necklace was one of the few mementos he had of her. “Yes. My father gave it to her on the occasion of their engagement.”

  Lady Elizabeth’s gloved fingers brushed the diamond reverently, and she gave him a tremulous smile in the mirror. “And now you are giving it to me as an engagement gift. I will treasure it always.”

  “Yes.” Pelham cleared his throat, worried Lady Elizabeth might begin to cry. Emotional women made him nervous. He had thought Lady Elizabeth a bit more reserved in her expressions. He hoped he had not been mistaken.

  He offered her his arm and led her toward the vestibule where a bevy of servants awaited them armed with hats, coats, and all the accoutrements necessary for attendance at a ball at Carlton House. Pelham donned his greatcoat and waited while Lady Elizabeth was helped into her pelisse, had her hair and hat fluffed, and was generally fussed over. Pelham thought he would go mad if he were ever subjected to so much fawning.

  Finally, she was pronounced acceptable, and he led her to the waiting coach. A row of liveried footmen lined the walk, and the most senior escorted the duke and his future duchess into the coach. Pelham handed Lady Elizabeth up and paused to observe his horses. He had four matching blacks. They were sleek, high-strung beasts, and their coats shone in the flickering lamplight. The crest on his carriage was scarlet and gold, and he felt proud to belong to such a long, distinguished line of dukes.

  Satisfied with what he saw, Pelham entered the carriage and took the seat facing backward. The soft velvet squabs reminded him he would rather be reclining in his library than dashing to Prinny’s affair. Pelham could not abide the Prince Regent. The man was the biggest fool in England, if not the whole of Europe. Pelham found fools intolerable, but even worse than a fool—in Pelham’s estimation—was a spendthrift. Prinny had huge debts and had even come to Pelham for a loan on several occasions. And though it was difficult to refuse the future sovereign anything, Pelham had managed to put Prinny off. He wasn’t about to loan money to a man who would take the first opportunity to prance to Rundell & Bridge and buy his latest mistress a bauble.

  Pelham sincerely hoped the man didn’t intend to appeal to him for yet another loan. He preferred to avoid the prince when possible, but Lady Elizabeth had been adamant they attend the ball at Carlton House.

  “My lady, you are certain our attendance at this function is necessary?” he asked, though he had asked previously and received a somewhat satisfactory answer. But he wanted to give his fiancée every opportunity to change her mind.

  “You know my parents are old-fashioned. My mother wants approval of our match from the prince. She would have rather had it from the King, but all reports are that he is severely indisposed.”

  The King was quite mad was what she meant, Pelham thought. George III’s firstborn son was a pale substitute for the formidable King. Pelham could hardly argue with the wishes of his intended’s parents. They had asked for very little from him, aside from substantial provisions for Lady Elizabeth and her offspring in the event he predeceased her. When Pelham considered the land he was receiving in exchange, this provision was paltry. He had plans for that land. He realized Lady Elizabeth was speaking and wrenched his mind away from thoughts of crops and soil improvements.

  “—won’t stay long. I should think if we dance twice that should prove sufficient.”

  Pelham almost balked. Almost. He was a duke and did not show his emotions. But he thought his deaf ear might have deceived him. “A dance?” he asked, keeping his voice level.

  “Or two.”

  “Two?” He could not have possibly heard correctly.

  He must have sounded choked, because she raised a dark brow. “Is that a problem, Your Grace?”

  She had brown hair and brown eyes and was pretty enough. Pelham cared little about her looks, but he did care about her temperament. She was a serious sort—or so he’d always thought. But just now, he had thought she might be laughing at him. It was too dark in the coach—even with the carriage lights—to tell, though.

  It must have been his imagination.

  “Dancing is such…” Torture. “A frivolous pursuit,” he managed.

  “But surely you dance?” Lady Elizabeth asked.

  He did and he had, but he did not enjoy it. It didn’t seem dignified. “If you think it absolutely necessary.” The evening had hardly begun and was already rapidly degenerating.

  Lady Elizabeth did not comment, and Pelham wondered if it was too soon in the engagement to outline some rules. For example, in the future he would not be required to dance. Or attend balls. Really, he had little interest in most ton functions, but he did not want to be unreasonable. Perhaps they might attend one small soiree each Season…

  The coachman announced their arrival, and Pelham peered out the window for a glimpse of Carlton House. It faced Pall Mall on the south, and the gardens were adjacent to St. James’s Park. Palladian in style, the house appeared austere, formal, and classic on the outside. Inside was a different matter entirely. Henry Holland, the architect, had acquiesced to the prince’s every whim, and the interior of the house was garish and ornate.

  Horace Walpole, whose criticisms Pelham usually agreed with, had called the house “the most perfect in Europe.” Pelham privately wondered if Walpole was going blind.

  The coach sped past a small crowd of onlookers, eager to see the arrival of the wealthy or titled—as few possessed both wealth and title—they read about daily in their morning papers. Lady Elizabeth gave a small wave to the crowds, but Pelham ignored them. The coach joined a long line of other coaches, and it was a quarter hour before Pelham and Lady Elizabeth alighted and entered through the hexastyle portico of Corinthian columns. They entered a grand foyer graced by anterooms on either side, and proceeded to the entrance hall.

  This hall soared two stories above them and boasted Ionic columns of yellow scagliola. Pelham was unimpressed, but Lady Elizabeth was turning her head this way and that, seeming to take it all in. He did hope she wasn’t gleaning any ideas for remodeling his sober residence. He did not think he could stand yellow marble.

  They were escorted to the ballroom and announced, and Pelham led his fiancée into the crowds. Her mother and father were the first to greet them, and Pelham spent a good quarter of an hour exchanging mindless pleasantries with them. He was informed the prince had yet to make an appearance, which meant Pelham might be here indefinitely. The thought depressed him, and he offered to fetch Lady Elizabeth and her mother, the Marchioness of Nowlund, glasses of champagne. There were footmen circling with trays, but Pelham needed a reason to escape.

  He strolled away, immediately engulfed by the crush of people, and headed for the French doors opening onto the terrace. He had just stepped outside and breathed in fresh air when Fitzhugh joined him.

  “I must be hallucinating,” he said. “That’s the only explanation I have for seeing the Duke of Pelham at Prinny’s ball.”

  “Stubble it,” Pelham growled.

  Fitzhugh laughed. “Drink?” He handed Pelham a snifter of what appeared to be brandy, and Pelham took it, rem
embering why he liked Fitzhugh.

  He drank a large portion of the brandy, which was admittedly very good, and said, “I suppose Darlington is skulking about somewhere. He’ll plague me about this until the end of time.”

  “Actually,” Fitzhugh said, his gaze on the gardens, “Darlington was called away. I understand his mother died quite unexpectedly.”

  “Good God. That’s monstrous news.”

  “He left just this morning. I heard he was so distraught he didn’t even stop to take his leave from the duchess.”

  “You mean his courtesan? He must be distraught indeed. I suppose that’s understandable.”

  “Yes.” Fitzhugh glanced at him, and Pelham didn’t like the look on his face. “She’ll be here tonight. And your presence… well, I don’t have to tell you the speculation is rampant.”

  “I’m not interested in speculation. I’m here to present my fiancée to the prince and then take my leave. I could care less whether I see this courtesan or not.” Pelham had to raise his voice over the commotion in the ballroom behind him. Fitzhugh glanced over his shoulder. When he turned back, Pelham frowned. Fitzhugh was smiling.

  Fitzhugh rarely smiled.

  “It seems you are in luck. The Three Diamonds have arrived.”

  Pelham spun around. Not because he wanted to catch a glimpse of the Duchess of Dalliance. No, he did not care one whit for her… well, perhaps he was mildly curious—as one is when one tours the Tower Menagerie to see the lions. He turned because the raucous ballroom behind him had suddenly grown completely silent.

  At first he could not comprehend why everyone had stopped speaking and moving. Even the King, when he had been of sound mind, did not garner this much respect. For a full five seconds, Pelham puzzled at the crowd’s reaction. And then he saw them.

  Three women in gowns that looked as though they were made of jewels seemed to float into the ballroom. Pelham had missed their introduction, but these were the kind of women who did not need any. He had always claimed he was not impressed by female beauty. He had always claimed one woman looked pretty much the same as the next.

  He was a colossal liar.

  Pelham could not tear his gaze from these ravishing beauties. He knew their entrance was calculated to cause a sensation, and if there was one thing the duke detested, it was manipulation. And yet, logic—for once—failed him. He stared, in awe, with the rest of the crowd.

  The three entered arm in arm. On the left was a dark-haired beauty with olive skin and dancing eyes. She wore a gown that resembled a lake of copper. It flowed over her body like water, and though the neckline and cut were modest, the silk flowed in a most revealing manner. The gown itself sparkled with ruby and diamond gems.

  On the right, dressed in gold silk, was an auburn-haired vision with vivid green eyes. Her dress was prim, almost schoolgirlish in its embellishment. She smiled openly, almost laughing, but there was something sensual about the way she moved. Something that made Pelham’s mouth go dry. Her gown was embroidered with sapphires and diamonds.

  It took Pelham no more than a second to appraise two of The Three Diamonds, but when his gaze landed on the Diamond in the center, he found he could not dismiss her quite so easily. His heart actually thumped harder when it appeared her gaze met with his. But her ice-blue eyes slid away, and he realized he must have been imagining the connection.

  Of the three, she was clearly the most classically beautiful. She had silvery-blonde hair coiled elaborately and sparkling with diamonds. Her light blue eyes seemed to look through those around her, rather than at them, and her figure…

  Pelham could not quite tear his attention from the silver silk gown she wore. Unlike the other Diamonds’ gowns, the blonde had no colored jewels as adornment. Her only accent was the sparkle of diamonds. Pelham could see why this woman was considered a diamond of the first water.

  She was tall and willowy, her figure slim and graceful. Her cheekbones were high, her eyebrows winged elegantly on her brow. Her lips were impossibly red, her skin impossibly white with just a hint of pink on her cheeks.

  Yes, Pelham knew in that moment he was a liar. He wanted this woman as he’d never wanted another in all his life.

  “They certainly know how to make an entrance,” Fitzhugh murmured.

  Pelham had to turn his head to catch Fitzhugh’s words. The man had spoken into his bad ear. “I’m not interested in courtesans,” Pelham said as much to remind himself as to inform his friend.

  “No, you don’t look interested at all.” Fitzhugh laughed. “The one you can’t stop staring at is Juliette, the Duchess of Dalliance.”

  Pelham tore his gaze from her to peer at Fitzhugh.

  “Yes, that duchess. And the more you stare, the more you fuel all those rumors. Ah, good evening, Lady Elizabeth.”

  Pelham blinked, coming out of his stupor as his fiancée and her parents approached. Fitzhugh was bowing and expressing his pleasure at seeing them. But Pelham saw Lady Elizabeth’s gaze was on him. She’d obviously seen him looking at the duchess. Devil take it, he hoped he hadn’t given tinder to spark the ton’s blaze of rumors. And he certainly didn’t need his fiancée questioning his associations just as their engagement was formalized.

  Pelham moved to stand beside Lady Elizabeth, turning his back to The Three Diamonds, who were now mingling among the crowd. The hum of voices had risen again, and Pelham swore he heard his name bandied about, but he was resolute in his decision to ignore the courtesans and all the conjecture surrounding them.

  “I was supposed to fetch champagne,” he said. It wasn’t an apology. Dukes did not apologize. “Fitzhugh distracted me before I could return.”

  “It is good to see you again, Mr. Fitzhugh,” Lady Elizabeth said.

  “Do forgive me for detaining Pelham. I had no idea the importance of his errand. But I am glad to have this opportunity. I understand congratulations are in order.”

  Pelham was always amazed when a man like Warrick Fitzhugh, a man who by all accounts had a rather seedy past and an equally murky present, presented himself so properly and in such a charming manner. But Pelham supposed that as the son of an earl, Fitzhugh had the training, if not the desire, to live respectably.

  Lady Elizabeth bowed her head in a show of modesty. “Thank you, Mr. Fitzhugh.” She glanced at Pelham. “I am overwhelmed by happiness.”

  Pelham could feel more sentimentality in the air as Lady Elizabeth’s mother began to speak, and he fled with the promise to return posthaste with champagne. He felt no qualms about leaving Fitzhugh alone with the women. After all, the man had brought it upon himself. No man even alluded to the topic of nuptials without expecting at least tittering, and quite possibly tears, from members of the fairer sex.

  Pelham approached a footman carrying a tray of champagne, but before he could take three flutes, Lord Ridgebury, another of his school chums, cut him off. “Pelham, old chap!”

  Pelham nodded stiffly. At school, Ridgebury had always tried to copy Pelham’s answers. “Ridgebury.”

  “I see you were finally able to break away. If you hurry, you might still be able to claim a dance with the duchess.”

  Pelham stared at the man. “You cannot possibly be suggesting I dance with a known courtesan in the presence of my fiancée and her parents, the Marquess and Marchioness of Nowlund.”

  Ridgebury shrugged. “My understanding is you’ve done a lot more than that.”

  “And do you believe everything you read, then, Ridgebury? Personally, I prefer my fiction in book form.”

  “Then you deny the relationship?” Lord Casterly, a viscount with whom Pelham had at best a negligible connection, asked. Pelham realized he had inadvertently attracted quite a crowd.

  “I do deny it. Not that it’s any of your affair. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Pelham reached for the champagne but not before he hea
rd the Prince of Wales announced.

  The Prince Regent, red-faced and waddling, entered, and his subjects bowed and curtseyed. All activity ceased for a matter of minutes as the prince greeted his favorites and exchanged quips with Brummell and Alvanley. The guests were beginning to mingle again, and Pelham reached for the champagne glasses a second time when Prinny called, “Pelham! Just the man I want to see!”

  Pelham cringed, motioned to the footman to move along, then turned and bowed to the prince.

  “Your Royal Highness.”

  “I didn’t think to see you here tonight, Pelham,” Prinny trilled. His rouged face was accented with a painted beauty mark on his cheek. Pelham couldn’t stop staring at it. Why would a man want a beauty mark?

  Come to think of it, why would a woman?

  “I’d hoped to present my fiancée to Your Royal Highness,” Pelham answered coolly. “I think you know her, Lady—”

  “Are you going to marry the duchess, now?” Prinny exclaimed. “Well, this is quite the ondit!”

  Pelham frowned. He was not accustomed to being interrupted, nor was he accustomed to being the subject of rumor. “If you mean to imply that I might be marrying that strumpet—”

  The prince opened his mouth and let out a small squeak. Pelham tried to speak again, but Prinny waved his hands frantically.

  “That’s quite all right.”

  Pelham heard a low, cool voice behind him.

  “I’ve been called far worse.”

  Five

  Juliette had seen the Duke of Pelham as soon as she’d stepped into the ballroom at Carlton House. She was aware all eyes were on her and the other Diamonds, and she was careful to search the room for the duke without appearing too obvious.

  Apparently Lily and Fallon had done the same. As soon as they had a moment alone, Lily gripped Juliette’s arm. “He’s here! I cannot believe it.”