Lady Pamela by Amy Lake Page A

said Lady Pamela, suddenly. “I see Lady Pemberlake has retired to the sofas. Please return me to her at once.”
    * * * *
    Amanda caught glimpses of the duke and Lady Pamela as she and Lord Burgess continued their waltz.
    At least Lady Detweiler was making an attempt at the dance. What Lord Burgess was doing was less clear, although–
    Good heavens. Her partner swung them into an exuberant turn, and Amanda’s feet left the ground. The gentleman seemed to have little idea of his own strength, and she hung on bravely, hoping not to be thrown half way across the ballroom. At least he had not yet attacked her toes.
    Lord Torrance and Pam swept by, and Amanda sent her friend a quick, rueful smile. But Lady Pamela’s attention was on her partner, her eyes locked with his in some communion of thoughts.
    Unhappy communion.
    They are at odds with each other, Amanda realized, feeling a stab of dismay. The two danced without stumble, blond heads in complement, the duke tall and broad shouldered, his partner an incomparable beauty, dressed in the finest of gowns.
    But they were, both of them, furiously angry.
    Angry with each other, Lady Detweiler was forced to assume. But why?
    She followed their course through the ballroom for another few moments, the duke being tall enough to stand out even in the present mob. Lady Pamela’s gown sparkled in the candlelight as they circuited the dance floor, gliding, turning–
    Angry.
    And the couple moved from her view, Amanda considered the details she knew of a certainty.
    First–the Duke of Grentham and Lady Pamela were presently engaged in some argument.
    And secondly, the gentleman had asked the lady to marry him, some seventh months past, and been refused.
     
    “You refused... you refused his offer of marriage?” Lady Detweiler repeated the words slowly. She was still adjusting to the news that her friend had never given the smallest hint of the duke’s proposal, all those months ago at Luton.
    And Lady Pamela had turned him down?
    “I did. You know I have no desire to marry.”
    Amanda knew no such thing.
    “But–” Lady Detweiler bit back the rest of her reply. It was not her habit to question the decisions of her friends, once they were truly made. Until then all was open to attack, of course, and Amanda was accustomed to cajoling, browbeating, and generally raising a stew when her good advice was refused. But Lady Pamela had never asked for it in this matter, was not asking now.
     
    “I... suppose I am a bit surprised,” she ventured. “I had thought you partial to the duke. And I’m sure that he–”
    “Amanda. Please, don’t go on about it,” said Pam. “Lord Torrance offered marriage. I refused him, and that is all. Ladies have refused offers before, have they not?”
    * * * *
    As Lady Pamela had said, the circumstances were not unknown. Dukes had been refused before, perhaps even wealthy and handsome dukes. But the two principals of such an unhappy episode usually avoided each other for some time following, and they certainly, thought Amanda, did not engage in a waltz.
    “Jeremy, for heaven’s sake.”
    Lady Detweiler held her breath as Lord Burgess finished another turn, her thoughts then shifting to what she could only surmise.
    That the duke was in love with Lady Pamela was, on present evidence, more than a guess. And Amanda was now tempted to believe that her friend was equally in love with him.
    Two people head-over-heels in love, the gentleman offering marriage and the lady refusing...
    “They are aggrieved with one another, I see,” said Lord Burgess, breaking into Amanda’s thoughts. He sent a quick nod in the direction of the duke and Lady Pam.
    His thoughts had paralleled her own. Startled by his perception, Amanda almost laughed. Jeremy Burgess was leaden-footed and ham-fisted, and the poorest dancer in memory. He was also, it seemed, as acute an observer of the human condition as Lady Detweiler herself.
    That was why she continued to dance with