The Girl with the Pearl Pin Read online

  He held out his hand, and she laid her own on top of it. Even gloved as they both were, his heat and sheer vitality thrilled her, as if she were a young girl facing her first season. And yet she could not stop herself reacting this way to him. Perhaps familiarity would breed contempt. She would try to work toward it.

  When she saw the carriage, Phoebe caught her breath. She’d expected an open vehicle, since riding in a closed carriage alone with a gentleman was tantamount to declaring herself a wanton hussy, but not this.

  He had brought a curricle. It was built along fairy lines, so delicate it looked as if it would not take much before it fell to pieces. Phoebe knew better than that. Although the vehicle had only two wheels, they were large and strong, their yellow spokes enhancing decorative qualities. This was a vehicle built for speed and by a master of his craft. “It’s m-magnificent.”

  “Thank you,” he said dryly. “My carriage does not fill you with dread?”

  “No, why should it?”

  The horses snorted as she approached, but the smartly liveried youth at their heads spoke to them and calmed them while Leo helped her up. Phoebe had to gather her voluminous skirts tightly to step on the small iron ledge that gave her access to the seat. Concentrating on climbing up as neatly as possible, she did not miss his small groan, though what had caused it passed her understanding.

  Taking the seat, she disposed her skirts as he climbed to the perch next to her and took the reins. He nodded to the youth, who stepped back. As Leo clicked the horses into action, the boy swung up behind them in an agile move that spoke of long practice. Although in theory Phoebe knew they could do this, she was alarmed to discover the boy had to cling on to a narrow position with no hope of rescue if he fell. “Aren’t you concerned he might hurt himself?”

  The duke flicked a glance at her and then behind at the boy. “No. Jem’s been working for me since he was a small boy. A smaller boy,” he corrected himself. “He’s never fallen off.”

  He turned his attention back to driving long enough to take a corner at considerable speed and without hesitation. Phoebe resisted the temptation to clutch the seat to steady herself, but her stomach swooped at this display of driving.

  “You’ve gone very quiet,” he said once he’d navigated several streets.

  “I did not want to ruin your c-concentration,” she said softly.

  He glanced at her, his gaze sharp. “I beg your pardon. I know these streets well. Besides, I wanted to display my prowess. I will be more circumspect, I promise.”

  “Oh n-no! This is utterly thrilling.” And it was. Bowling through the streets behind two highbred horses was a new and enjoyable experience.

  But he slowed the steeds to a walk anyway. The smart equipage attracted the attention of all passersby. Some raised their hands in greeting, but at least Phoebe knew not to acknowledge them. A lady in a carriage in the street should not do that, Angela had informed her. Leo, however, nodded to a few select acquaintances, but then dukes did not follow the rules of good behavior. They made them.

  She had no doubt her presence was remarked on, and she could even guess what they were saying. “You can go f-faster if you want to.”

  He chuckled. “Perhaps I want to show you off instead of my driving.”

  “I c-cannot imagine why.” She primmed her mouth.

  A particularly pleasant smile curved his lips. He appeared genuinely amused. “I know you cannot, but I do. Much of the attention we are receiving is because of you.”

  “You’re very kind, sir. I daresay we have helped not a f-few s-scandal-sheet hawkers earn their livings today.”

  She liked his laugh, too.

  It occurred to her that although they were passing over cobbles she wasn’t jolted. The suspension on this vehicle must be particularly good. “Aren’t s-sporting vehicles m-meant to be sensitive?”

  “Oh, it is. It can be adjusted though, and I do not wish to rattle the teeth out of your head. Of course, at this pace, we are hardly likely to rattle anything at all.”

  “I think I can manage.” Having the wind blown from her lungs was better than being stared at, and she had loved the speed and the elegant, skillful way he’d handled the ribbons.

  She could see the park gates. They didn’t have far to go.

  “They’re envious.” The amusement in his voice annoyed her.

  “Of me, of c-course they are. You’re at the top of every invitation list.” She had not meant to sound so waspish, but there, it was done now. “And they think our b-betrothal is real.”

  “Oh, it’s real all right. Never question that.”

  Mindful of the tiger behind them, Phoebe sealed her lips. They had to keep up this pretense. “I should not have said that.”

  “You must say whatever you wish to me.” He cast a glance over his shoulder. “If we keep our voices at this level, Jemmy cannot hear us. He is extremely loyal, however, one of the few servants I can completely trust. His father has served my family all his life. Jemmy Linton is likely to do the same. So do not imagine that I said our betrothal is real for his sake. It is the truth.”

  He shot her another glance, eyes glittering. Every time he did that, she fell further under his spell. Did he know he was enthralling her? Of course. Someone in his position rarely did anything without thinking hard and long about the effect they had on others. “Why would you n-not let the matter rest, sir? S-say our betrothal was a m-misunderstanding?”

  “I knew exactly what I was doing. No misunderstanding was involved. Besides, I’m bringing you into fashion,” he said calmly, as finally he drove through the open gates.

  Hyde Park was the place to go to display one’s wealth. Although she had none, for today Phoebe was part of the cream of society. She might as well lean back and enjoy it.

  Well, perhaps not lean back. This seat did not seem fashioned for that particular activity. Her stays helped her to remain ramrod-straight in any case.

  People stared as they bowled up Rotten Row, and continued to stare. This time she had to acknowledge them, although they were not giving her more than a slight nod. They wanted to make themselves known to him. “You’re managing very well,” he murmured, as he touched his whip to his hat. A lady and five younger women, presumably her daughters, all dressed to the hilt, made their curtseys.

  “What does one call a group of simpers?” she wondered aloud.

  “If I’m not mistaken, at least three of them are in society, or shortly to make their debuts. I am suitably warned.” He bestowed one of his genuine smiles on her. Already she could tell the difference; when he smiled properly, twin indents appeared at the corners of his mouth. His polite smile didn’t produce those. Neither did it show the wicked gleam in the depths of his eyes.

  Perhaps she should be glad she didn’t see him smile more, because she found the expression disturbingly attractive.

  He nodded to another lady, who appeared eager for him to stop, and continued along Rotten Row for a good fifty feet. “I think we should get out and walk,” he said.

  “Won’t that take longer? I thought this was a duty drive.”

  A crease appeared between his brows when he turned to her. “Don’t do that.”

  “What?”

  “Make the assumption that I don’t want to be with you. I much prefer you than those people back there.” With a jerk of his head he indicated the lady they had nodded to, now far behind them on the Row. “You are more amusing and interesting than they could ever be. You answer honestly, and you do not agree with everything I say. You have no idea how tedious that can get.”

  “No, I don’t,” she said dryly.

  Neatly and efficiently he drew the horses to a halt. He helped her down himself, but unused to such precarious steps, she stumbled and fell into his arms.

  His hold tightened. Startled, she gazed up into his face. The world closed in around t
hem, and she knew nothing other than him. Sounds receded, the background blurred as she concentrated on his face. He seemed transfixed on her. She ignored their shocking proximity but waited. His eyes grew slumberous, darkening as his pupils widened and he parted his lips. He was going to kiss her, and she wasn’t about to stop him.

  Someone close to them laughed, high and shrill. His nostrils flared as he drew in air, and he stepped back, keeping his hands lightly on her elbows. “Can you stand on your own now?” His voice roughened, as if uncaring of society and its strictures.

  “Of course.” Clearing her throat, she stepped out of his grasp and straightened her skirts. “The ride was m-merely a new experience.” She shook her head slightly. “I am not usually s-so unsteady.”

  “Are you ready for another new experience?”

  The members of society would not be so crass as to hurry, but it was obvious that people were anxious to speak to him or be with him. Before any could reach him, he offered her the support of his arm and nodded to his groom. “Take them around and come back.”

  That would take forever at the snail’s pace the horses were forced to adopt here. He gave her no chance to object, but struck out along a relatively secluded path, moderating his pace to hers.

  “We are fortunate in this fine day,” she remarked.

  “Yes, it has rained rather a lot recently,” he responded immediately. “Of course, at this time of year we must expect inclement weather.”

  He blandly responded to her remarks in the same tone. She stifled a snort of laughter. Her mother had told her she had an unfortunate laugh. Perhaps she did, but she did her best to control it. He brought that out of her, too. “I saw a number of light, fluffy clouds this morning. They had no rain in them.”

  “Perhaps they are gathering together to create a storm another time.”

  “Or fending off the rain c-clouds, like champions f-fighting for their honor.”

  “Or their lady.”

  Before she could stop herself, she said, “Clouds do not have ladies!” Laughing, she took her attention from the sky and turned to him. “Truly, sir, you should not lead me into such foolish n-notions! I c-cannot imagine what you think of me.”

  “When poets make epics to trifles like locks of hair, I do not see why we should not speculate on the behavior and chivalry, or otherwise, of clouds.” He was smiling too.

  She had found someone who shared her absurd sense of humor. Until that moment Phoebe had not understood how alone she felt, adrift in unfamiliar territory. She would hold this moment precious, whatever happened next. Could she have found a friend?

  Surely not in this resplendent specimen of masculinity, this leader of society. She wet her lips. “Such nonsense we are speaking.”

  “Indeed. But if you recall, by discussing the cutting of a maiden’s hair, Pope managed to bring the affairs of nations into his epic. Have you read the poem?”

  Eagerly, she nodded, scarcely aware of the people passing them, eyeing them curiously. “But that poem caused the ruin of one young woman.”

  “The poem merely drew the public’s attention to the lady’s scandalous behavior. She caused her own ruin.”

  “I was n-nearly ruined last night. You saved me.”

  His lips curved tenderly. “It was my privilege to do so.”

  Guiding her gently, he turned her back to the path. He halted. They were facing each other, his expressive eyes taking her in. His hand moved, but he did not touch her, as she’d thought he was about to do. “You look charming today, Phoebe. Quite lovely.”

  She shivered at his use of her name. That was such an intimate thing to do. “Th-thank you, sir.”

  He clicked his tongue in exasperation. “What did I tell you? Call me Leo.” He gave a tiny shake of his head. “You are lovely, especially in these rich colors. Do not denigrate yourself. And don’t listen to foolish gossip.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.” Indignation fired her words. “I have no d-defense. They may say whatever they like about m-me with no reperc-cussions. And they do.”

  “They will not,” he said firmly, and drew her hand back through his arm as they looped around a group of trees, preparing to return to Rotten Row. “I will behave, I swear.” He touched his free hand to his chest to emphasize his promise. “But I enjoy your company, Phoebe, and I will not allow cheap gossip to deprive me of it.” He paused and shot her a lightning glance, as if he’d startled himself, or she’d surprised him. “I will take care of you, never fear.”

  The arrogance of the man! “And I do not appear well in s-s-s-s-s-s-s…” The worst happened. Phoebe did not often get stuck on words these days, but the sight of the cream of society watching them landed on her with the force of a ton of bricks. The words remained trapped in her throat. Like a garden songbird stuck on one note, she tried the word again, determined not to let it beat her.

  He did not finish it for her. Of all the tactics people took with her, that one infuriated her the most and tended to make matters worse. Instead, he slowed down, guiding her into the shade of a nearby tree.

  “Society!” She finished what she’d meant to say with a flourish, spitting it out as if it intended to do her harm. “It’s my p-problem with speaking, which you have noticed. They consider it a lack of b-breeding.”

  “Some members of society consider breathing demonstrates a lack of breeding.” His tone was not complimentary.

  “P-People never t-talked about me before yesterday.”

  He shrugged, an elegant lift of one shoulder. “Jealous cats aren’t worth paying attention to. I do not mean you harm, Phoebe, and I will do my best to ensure that none comes your way.” His eyes darkened. “I will care for you, I swear it. You will come to no harm with me.”

  When he leaned over her, she knew what he was intending. Tipping her head back, she parted her lips in time to receive his kiss. All her lectures to herself, all the danger disappeared as if it never was.

  When he kissed her, the world melted away and ceased to matter. While aware her response to him was dangerous, it was too powerful, too seductive for her to take heed. Kissing a person in public, even someone betrothed, could lead to damaging gossip. But Phoebe had temporarily ceased caring.

  He touched her chin, guiding her to him as he thrust his tongue into her mouth. She sucked on it, hearing his gratifying groan, feeling the vibrations the sound caused all over her body.

  He drew away, gazing down on her. “See? Perfectly acceptable. Nobody can see us here.” He grinned. “I checked. I made you a promise I will keep. No scandal. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try to kiss you when it’s safe to do so.”

  Reminded forcibly of their situation, she gasped and jerked away, nearly dislodging her cocked hat. He replaced his, tugging it down with an impatient gesture.

  She could not spend too much time alone with him. That would cause her ruin for sure, for she had no self-preservation where he was concerned. That kiss had drawn them into their own world, one where nothing else mattered. Just for a brief few seconds, she’d known what passion felt like.

  He held out his arm in unspoken command. She laid her hand on it, and they commenced their stroll back to the carriage.

  “You appear perfectly well in society,” he continued, as if they had only been exchanging pleasantries. Was he not as rocked by the kiss as she was? Clearly not. Perhaps he kissed every young woman he drove around Rotten Row. He had certainly selected a clever place to kiss her, where nobody could see them. “The only speculation I heard was that you were a paid companion, but Miss Childers soon put a stop to that nonsense. Even if you were, what of that?” He pulled her in to his body again, a gesture she found subtly exciting. “Now, madam, are you ready to brave the perils of my carriage once more?”

  He led her across the rough surface to where the groom stood waiting with the horses, now less restive since they’d had some e
xercise.

  “More than ready,” she said. “In fact, I enjoyed the experience.”

  The stammer had gone.

  He noticed too, and as he courteously helped her back on to her seat, he murmured, “So that’s the cure. I will try to kiss you more often.”

  Before she had time to answer, he walked around to his side, climbed up, took the reins and set the horses into a slow walk.

  Phoebe recalled what she meant to say to him and now, when she desperately wanted to move the discussion away from her feelings for him, seemed like a good time. “My friends have decided to help discover the thief.”

  “Thief?” He shot her a puzzled glance, then his face cleared. “Oh, the diamonds.”

  “The diamonds are the reason we are in this mess.”

  “Not a mess.” He sounded quite stern. “Never call it that.” Catching the reins expertly in one hand, without even watching what he was doing, he turned his head to regard her. Not a trace of humor marked his features. “I mean it. I’m content, and I trust you are, too.”

  “Oh.” She wasn’t sure what to say, except for a feeble, “Thank you.”

  “You are an interesting woman, Phoebe, and a cozy armful. I am happy to further our acquaintance. In fact, you interest me more than any woman has for a long time.” He paused to turn at the end of the Row, which he did with a deftness she was forced to admire. “You do not toady to me, and you answer me honestly. You are evidently intelligent, and I value your opinion.” He nodded to someone passing by but didn’t stop the horses to talk to them.

  Phoebe didn’t know what to say. His statement had entirely taken her breath away. This was not a duke, it was a man, a person she could talk to, someone who listened to her. And a friend. “I-I like you too.”

  They exchanged a warm smile. No more than that, but the connection between them strengthened.

  He turned back to the horses, since the traffic was increasing as they approached the gate. “I would counsel you and your friends not to take action on your own. The thieves could well fight back. I do not wish you to be hurt.”