One Night with a Duke

by Sandra Masters

  His mind drew back into the present. “It’s difficult to believe your sister is unattached.” Raven fingered his quizzing glass, a well-known trait of his when he was deep in thought.

  “She has refused quite a few offers. I desire my sister’s happiness. I won’t force her into a marriage not of her choice.”

  Raven assessed the tall man. He sought men of the nobility who desired to learn and make a difference to England and the world. No scandal blemished this young man’s reputation.

  “I have enjoyed our talk, Winston. If you are at White’s Club or the Royal’s, do look me up.” Raven handed him his card. “I would like to get to know you better,” he said sotto voce. “I now recognize that you are a member of the Agricultural Committee which I head, but it would be of interest to me to know you and your family on a more familiar basis. There are many tasks to be assigned, and I would ask for your assistance if this is of consequence to you.”

  Winston answered, “I’d consider it an honor, Your Grace.”

  Raven returned his monocle to his pocket. “I also am in the midst of the formation of a cartel in which you may wish to participate. We could speak of the details at another time.”

  “Thank you, I look forward to the opportunity.” His neophyte’s eager voice reminded him of his youthfulness.

  Raven could have his pick of wealthy and titled nobles to invite to join the cartel. Why did he now decide to extend an invitation to this young man? There were many suitable answers. Lord Winston was a protégé on one of his committees, so he was duty-bound to take the man under his wing. The duke questioned his behavior but admitted the copper-haired angel aroused his interest.

  Raven summed up the lady’s wit, charm, intelligence, and a spirit other men might fear because of her outspokenness. On the contrary, it attracted him like the siren’s call to a sailor. Some men wanted simple-minded women who didn’t care for involvement in national and world issues. He found it to be an aphrodisiac, a bewitchment to say the least. He no longer feigned his attraction.

  His late wife, a countess of the Italian court, could converse on any subject at any time. It lent joy to their relationship. She fascinated his mind as well as his body. Since her death, though, the memories faded and didn’t sustain him in his physical world. He’d allowed loneliness and sadness to invade his life.

  He had a mistress to fulfill his needs, but even though he just returned from the continent, he held no desire to visit the woman. Perhaps all this was a sign of changes to be made to his ordinary routine. While his regimen used to comfort him, it now made him uneasy.

  Raven admitted a fascination to the green-eyed goddess. He took the measure of the man who now danced with her. It was so unlike him to experience possessiveness. The clench in his stomach clawed at him like the underbelly of a dangerous snake. Of a sudden, he found he wanted to kiss her again and get lost in her mystical eyes for a lifetime. Somehow every fiber of his being told him this woman would play a significant part in his life. He was ready to face the future if she were in it.

  Raven left the room and walked through the reception area to the outdoor balcony. He sat on a cement bench, his back against the block wall, his mind a whirl. He raised his right hand to his chin in deep thought, listening to the music of night critters.

  ****

  Samantha’s curiosity intensified; it was colored by the powerful emotions Ravensmere evoked walking through the crowd. Heads turned. Conversations stilled. With guarded eyes, she observed as the women stared at him, and perhaps coveted what they saw. How dare they?

  Her mind returned to their first kiss, and how he’d managed to ignite her. Her typical arctic freeze never showed its iceberg head. In her engagement and brief marriage, Samantha came to a conclusion she didn’t know how to pucker lips well. Percival’s quite forgettable kisses she likened to brotherliness, so she didn’t know how to respond in any suitable way. It seemed the duke thought their kiss memorable.

  “You appeared to have quite a conversation with His Grace,” her brother teased. “It’s rare for him to speak to anyone.” His voice lowered, and he whispered, “He is considered a bit high in the instep, you know.”

  Samantha’s smile held a different purpose. Everything about Ravensmere fascinated her.

  She couldn’t understand how his simple touch made her feel all liquid and heated, an unusual circumstance. She guessed him to be a bit older than she, perhaps in his early forties, but he carried himself with an air of aristocratic splendor. Ah, he held the weight of the world on his shoulders—a man who could be a charmer when he wanted, but also firm and resolute—a man who took good care of his people. He deserved a princess of the realm.

  Her deep need for an exceptional love fueled her dreams. This magical lover would appreciate her intellect. Ah, imaginings, she sighed. If only such a man existed.

  She again caught sight of her Aunt Min. “I’ve found you,” Samantha smiled at this beloved and treasured lady.

  “I haven’t been lost. My dear, I see you have attracted a powerful admirer.” She touched her niece’s cheek with tenderness.

  “By chance do you speak of His Grace, Duke of Ravensmere?” Samantha asked with coyness, happy to play this trivial game.

  “Yes, child, you know to whom I refer. Does the man appeal to you?”

  “I’m not sure at this moment. I’ve read about his vast holdings and efforts to industrialize the farms of his tenants. Brandon has said he is a person worthy of note as he attempts to convince other nobles of the need to secure England’s future. He quite challenges me.”

  She smiled at the memory of their conversation. As a Member of Parliament and a true influential leader of men, he could do much to elevate her brother’s status—and, perhaps, her charity foundation.

  “Samantha, you have a quick, sharp mind and the ability to allow your daydreams to run amok into the world you create.” She took her niece aside. “You always dream of a fantasy love.”

  “I know this love exists somewhere, Aunt Min, yet I erect a façade around myself on purpose to frighten off the less hardy suitors. Any man who could scale my walls would be a person of interest to me, and my magical lover will appreciate my intellect and use it and me as strength.”

  Her aunt patiently listened. “You expect too much from a mere man, my dear. Ravensmere is considered a most eligible bachelor now that he has returned from the continent. Lady Cowpur of Almacks mentioned him to me the other day. All the maidens’ mothers are anxious to introduce him to their daughters,” Lady Minerva commented as a matter of fact.

  “Lady Cowpur, you say? I pity the poor man for the barrage of invitations he will receive. I’m glad to be on the shelf.” Her fan whisked. To be placed on display and engage in inane conversations bored her. She couldn’t help but compare its similarity to a meat market where the best cuts became available to the highest bidder. Well, she was not for sale to anyone.

  The word was his revolutionary concepts propelled him as a man ahead of the times. There were those who said he ruled with a rigid discipline. It also appeared he didn’t smile much. What a pity. His lips were perfect when he did. Again, she returned to the fascination of his sensual lips and relived her experience with Ravensmere in her brother’s carriage. Just one kiss made her yearn for more. Oh dear, how ignoble. It was just a kiss and meant nothing. If she could just convince herself of that fact, it’d be better for them both.

  It meant nothing to him. Yes, Samantha would forget about it all. Such a man was not for her. Not for her at all. She removed him from her mental list. Then she laughed at herself. The list did not hold too many names, and if the truth were known, he was the one and only name on the unwritten list.

  Chapter Four

  Samantha danced away the rest of the evening until intermission. The unbearable heat in the room pleaded for a need to find crisp night air. She stepped out onto the balcony alone. Her widow status allowed her ability to take small license without endangerment to her reputation. Ha
h. She pondered how a mere two weeks of her miserable marriage could have so affected her status.

  While she mused, she became aware of a male presence quite near. The strong scent of sandalwood filled the air. She knew without a need to peer that it could only be Ravensmere who soon rose from his seat to join her.

  “Lady Winston.” He nodded. “You look up to the sky. Do you enjoy the stars?”

  She turned to face him. “Yes, Your Grace, I do. I love star gazing and the constellations,” spoken with effused tranquility. “You mentioned your late wife believed in astrology. Do you?” She held her fan at her side, clutching it.

  “I’m not sure I know enough about it although I’m aware of the four elements, positive and negative types, the planets and the houses. However, don’t ask me to explain as I haven’t studied these in detail,” Ravensmere said with an air of confidence.

  Few noblemen of her acquaintance ever read or studied the Zodiac, except for her brother.

  “My tutor became fascinated with astrology, Your Grace. As a young girl, the signs captivated me, so you could say I’m more than a student. Perhaps an ardent admirer of the movement of the sun, moon, and planets is a better term.” Did she attempt to show him a woman could be well versed in subjects that might shock him?

  “What is your sign, Lady Winston?” He edged closer to her.

  “I’m Gemini, Your Grace. And you?” She’d test him to see how much he knew.

  “Aquarius is my sign.”

  She called to mind their two signs’ compatibility. However, she wasn’t like-minded—yet.

  The music resumed, and Ravensmere inquired, “Perhaps you’d save the last waltz for me if you haven’t promised it to someone else?”

  “Your Grace, I haven’t, and would be delighted to dance with you. It is quite the latest rage from Europe. It amazes that the ton has countenanced this European fad as respectable.” Her hand shook. She hoped he paid no mind to her silly reaction. “Do you reside in London for the season?” she asked to dismiss her woolgathering.

  “I have a townhouse off Cavendish Square, but I spend most of my time at Ravensmere, my country estate in Hampshire. There are those who consider me a stuffy political recluse, as the pressmen would say, but like you, I have causes I wish to espouse, so I tolerate these events.”

  “The word tolerate speaks of many things.” She tilted her chin toward him and aligned her head to his lips in invitation.

  Raven bent toward Samantha as her familiar scent of lemon fogged his brain. Control, old chap. Control, he cautioned. He fingered his monocle and then slipped it in its proper place.

  “One of my personal goals is to leave my estate in a better condition than I received it. I also want to promote industrialization in England so it can take its rightful place in the future of the world.”

  “Those are lofty ambitions, Your Grace. Are they attainable?” She tilted her head to him again.

  “I don’t wish to sound pompous, but I never take on anything I can’t achieve.” He knew each precise detail of what must be done to create employment. As for the lady beside him, that became quite another story.

  Raven placed both hands on the balcony balustrade and looked up at the stars. “The war has taken a significant toll on England’s treasury, Lady Winston.” He spoke loudly of his great concern for his country. He held her gaze yet again. The vague silken sensuous thread continued to weave its spell within him, perhaps a promise of things to come. “However, I digress. I don’t wish to bore you with practicalities.”

  “I’m not bored with the acquisition of knowledge about my country from so esteemed a gentleman like you. Au contraire, my belief is that women should become more involved in politics,” she stated in a firm voice.

  “Lady Winston, I don’t believe the world is ready for women such as you…yet.”

  “And why not?” her voice demanded, her breaths deep.

  Raven was sure she prepared to do battle. Her indignation was the ultimate amusement to a man such as him.

  “It would take a powerful man and woman to accomplish such a change in course. Do you feel you are ready to face the world?” He smiled.

  “I believe like you, Your Grace, I can do anything if I set my mind to the task. I’ve not yet found the right man who will work alongside me, but if he does exist, I’ll find him.”

  He shook his head. “What a pity then. We could have had a fun ride.” A ripple of mirth escaped.

  When Samantha gazed at him, he noticed the curve to her long neck and the exquisite breasts that invited his attention. He exhaled at length. This lady, her fragrance, and the way she held her body, promised the essence of female pleasures. A strong, potent desire overcame him. It seemed more sensual than sexual, so it confused him for the moment. Sensuality to a man of his nature could be reckless and dangerous, and so unlike him, at least for the past ten years. The reactions could intoxicate, yet he welcomed their return from dormancy. He felt full of life. Yes, her beauty, though obvious to the viewer, spoke not of the totality of the attraction. Her other qualities also intrigued him. He could say her uniqueness appealed to him. Or was it her mysterious complexity?

  Yanked away from his musings, her lilted voice asked, “Your Grace, I haven’t seen you at the soirees and balls. Have you been away?”

  “I’ve returned from my holdings in the East.” The war played havoc with the merchant ships, and he liked to view things first hand. A smile lit his face. “I’m proud of the accomplishments. There is excitement about the goings-on, perhaps even equivalent to the intoxication by a beautiful woman.” Raven held her gaze. “Have you been to India, my lady?” He studied her expression and narrowed his eyes in discernment.

  “With much regret, no, but I do read everything I can about the country. My Aunt Minerva spent many years there with her husband. She regales us with her stories and adventures which, I might add are many.” Her winsome smile conveyed her interest.

  “My futuristic attitude, and willingness to take risks if the rewards are great, have earned me considerable wealth. I do not boast. A good deal of my time and effort is spent in investments and preparation for the future of my country, my family and heirs.” Raven felt it necessary to add, “I don’t know if there is enough time in my life to accept women in politics.”

  “It’s a pity then, Your Grace. You’ll never know what you’ve missed.” She glanced at him over her fan. Her eyes told a story he might want to hear—in bed. He connected with her eyes that appeared to blaze, his mind submerged in them. Damnation, Samantha Winston, what a couple we would make.

  “However, you should also know, I’m not adverse to the premise. I just don’t know if it’s attainable in the short term.” His dark eyes assessed all he saw. Her body intrigued him, her high spirit challenged, but it was her mind that fascinated in a sexual manner. The last thought amused and perplexed that such an anomaly was possible.

  Raven paused. “Speak in honesty with me,” he said in a firm tone. “Do you desire to become involved in politics?”

  “My aunt says behind every influential man is a powerful woman. I don’t desire to be behind my man. Rather I would be beside him—like equals—but I do admit I’m not quite ready at this time. It’s not at the top of my list of priorities.”

  “Like equals, you say.” The corners of his mouth turned up. “What is on the top of your list?” he asked with humor as well as interest.

  “I believe that topic would warrant another conversation, my lord. Hmmm, I misspoke, Your Grace,” she said.

  “You may call me Raven when we are in private,” he whispered with a tone of extreme intimacy. “I shall call you by your given name.”

  “What makes you so sure we will have private moments?” In the moonlight, her eyes danced as if only for him.

  “Lady Samantha, I believe I told you I would wager quite a bit that we will. You are an enigma, you know. I’m one who likes the opportunity to solve puzzles and mysteries.”

  Her head tilt
ed toward him with a gracious smile. “Raven, then I shall look forward to such enlightenment. I, too, like challenges.”

  The sound of his name as it rolled from her lips held a familiar sensual tone.

  “Then we are agreed, dear Samantha. Where would we start?” His eyes held hers again.

  “Why not start at the beginning?” Samantha teased. “It appears we are on a first name basis. In private,” she added.

  “Strangers when we met, and now we are here together on a balcony under the canopy of a dark starry night,” he answered. “I wonder.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Do we begin where we left off?” Raven countered. His mind raced to the kiss, or was it kisses?

  “I doubt that, Your Grace. The kiss was meant to assist you in avoiding harm. I don’t know you that well. Perhaps we should get to know each other better and longer before we attempt more?”

  “Yes, perhaps we should, but there is something in the air, Samantha. I do believe you have conjured up some magic. I’m invigorated with everything—the stars, the night, and mostly that you and I converse on unusual subjects of interest, dear lady.” No doubt, he found her bewitching.

  “I like magic, don’t you? It’s one of my favorite words.”

  “I don’t know. There is nothing mystical in my life.” His tone saddened.

  “Then one day when I know you better, I will take you on a magical ride in a chariot made of silver and moonlight with Pegasus, our winged horse, through the firmament in all of its beauty and majesty.” The lilt in her voice tempted.

  “I can see the universe in your eyes. Perhaps I would wish to get lost in them. Do you feel you could allow that?” Raven moved closer to her.

  “I warn you, Your Grace. Things are not always what they seem.”

  “I don’t take heed of most warnings.”