Larcenous Lady by Joan Smith

cool, and him scrambling over mountains to meet her. But he noticed she was smiling and his heart softened. “You’re bamming me, you sly rascal. When can I call on you, Miss Sutton?”
    “You should really say good day to Mama and my sister first,” she pointed out, and led him forward. They showed him Elvira’s pearl. “I want Lucy to have one just like mine.”
    “That’s sweet of you,” Pronto said, much impressed at her kindness. “Didn’t realize your mama was a nabob.”
    “She isn’t,” Elvira teased. “Her uncle was a nabob and left her his fortune when he died.”
    Pronto frowned. He already knew winning Elvira would be difficult. If she was an heiress into the bargain, it’d be impossible. What he had to do was snap her up fast, before she went home where all the fortune hunters would be hounding her. As he looked at her tall, beautiful body, her full breasts, and noble face, he knew she was worth every effort.
    “Sorry to hear it,” he said.
    “He died a year ago. We’re not in mourning.”
    “Didn’t mean that. Hope you don’t take the notion I’m after your money. I cared for you before you told me.”
    Elvira’s throaty laugh echoed in his ear. “You are too ridiculous, Mr. Pilgrim. I never for one moment thought of you as a fortune hunter. Why you strike me as a gentleman who doesn’t have to worry about money.”
    “Matter of fact, I do own an abbey,” he remembered, and looked hopefully for approval. It certainly looked like approval, or interest at least, shining in Elvira’s eyes.
    “There you are then.” Elvira smiled. “You own an abbey; I own the pearl. And the rest of the world may whistle for envy.’’
    “So when may I call on you?” he asked.
    “Why don’t you come around to the Léon Bianco later?”
    “I’ll be there,” he promised. Inching his way behind Mrs. Sutton for privacy, he lifted Elvira’s hand and kissed her fingers. A fine, sturdy paw the girl had. Nearly as big as his own, only long and artistic, whereas his was short and pudgy.
    There were sounds of leave-taking across the shop. Pronto went reluctantly forward, feeling he ought to greet Charney. “Bonjouro, “ he said, and made a leg.
    “Mr. Pilgrim. Still tagging along with Belami, eh? How are you liking Europe?”
    “They’ve got dandy sewers in Paris,” he told her. He was right—her eyes were exactly like the sewer rats’.
    The duchess suspected this was a joke. She never connived at jokes and ignored it. She gathered up the Suttons and left.
    “The contessa has invited Deirdre and myself to dinner this evening,” she announced. “We shall be seeing a good deal of the contessa and her set. As you mentioned this morning, you will find your own friends. I fear these upstart Italian nobles take themselves very seriously. I hinted that you and the girls might accept an invitation as well, but the contessa didn’t take me up on it.”
    “We certainly don’t expect to glide into society on your coattails, Duchess,” Mrs. Sutton said, as friendly as ever. Really, the woman was better than a gift.
    They went on to a few other shops, but for Deirdre the day was destroyed. She had found Dick at last, only to find him involved with a woman so beautiful there was no hope of winning him back. He had been stiff and unfriendly and, worst of all, he looked palpably guilty. She dreaded the ordeal of dinner at the Palazzo Ginnasi worse than a trip to the tooth-drawer. And like a bad tooth, the pain refused to go away.

 

Chapter Six
     
    While Deirdre fretted and got dressed in her best blue gown that showed off her shoulders, the duchess was chirping merrily. With careful flattery and encouragement, the contessa would be made to see the benefit of harboring an English duchess under her roof for an indefinite period. Connections would be made that greatly reduced the cost of further travel: carriages provided free, noble doors opened to her in Naples and Rome. She dashed a note off to