One Night with a Duke

by Sandra Masters

  Samantha realized the walls she erected, but every moment seemed enjoyable. The duke didn’t seem so high in the instep now that he had a chink in his armor. She viewed him as a suitable challenge.

  Oh what fun, but it came at his, and possibly her, expense. In contemplation, she made the wrong chess move. She didn’t intend to say so much and just got carried away. Oh, dear, that was not her intention.

  Aunt Minerva smiled as she greeted them. “Your Grace, how kind of you to return Samantha to us.”

  “I’m afraid, Aunt Min, I have shocked His Grace.” She turned to Raven, stared into his steel gray eyes. “I apologize if I offended you. I meant no umbrage, but know that I have passionate issues and am not a chit in the vernacular of this society. I have a mind, and I like to use it.” She gave him a bold smile, paused and then winked at him.

  She regretted her rudeness and didn’t want him to think ill of her family because she did recognize him as a man of substance. Some demon inside her wanted to erect the wall, to shock, insult and frighten him away. But he was dangerous also, and someone she could get to like. It was easy for her to resent his cool exterior, yet she wanted to see if she could pierce his armor again. Now, that part intrigued her beyond measure.

  “You also have a quick tongue.” Her wink was audacious. A wink from her would not defuse the situation. Insufferable, but something about her spoke to him. Samantha’s attraction appealed in spite of her unconventional speech.

  “One could say that to be called old, egotistical, a coward and an over-aged schoolboy in the same two minutes of conversation is a novelty for me. Tell me, did I miss any other affront to my dignity?” He controlled his tone but kept it superior.

  “Yes. I also said you suffered from vanity.” Her retort shocked. He returned his gaze to her aunt who looked about to swoon and addressed Lady Minerva, “Take deep breaths, Lady Harrington. I did. I don’t envy you your supervision of your niece.” Not sure why, he turned again to her and spoke with utter calm. “If you have finished your tirade, do remember we have the last waltz, madam.” His tone became curt and crisp like a gale wind in a severe storm toppling many ships.

  “I would be happy to, but on one condition, Your Grace.” Another soft smile curled her lips.

  Now, what does the vixen have to say? He deemed her an expert in feminine wiles. “That condition is?”

  He prepared for the worst, but she entertained, to say the least. Samantha just might be the most unusual woman he’d ever met. Raven knew he would never forget her. No other woman had attracted him or affronted him so. Of a certain, she would be bothersome, if not dodgy.

  “That we talk about lighter subjects other than war and treaties.”

  “Rest assured, I have heard enough about those subjects for a lifetime. How are truth, honor, and valor?”

  “Oh, those are weighty subjects.” Samantha held his glare. “I don’t know if I’m consummate enough.”

  “Of that, I’m sure. Such deprecation on your part does not signify, but I will try to educate you if you wish, so you can better understand them.” That comment put the woman in her place.

  If she resented his superior manner, she’d be surprised at how he would use it to tame her. She now became an adversary to overcome. There were many ways he could do so. One of them might even pleasure them both. Why couldn’t she guard her tongue?

  “Somehow, I know you will enlighten me by your strong opinions. His voice was an arctic freeze.

  Raven observed the shocked reaction of Winston and his aunt at the quick repartee between him and Samantha.

  “I’m not here to amuse you, Your Grace,” she shot back.

  “Yes, I know too well. I’m not here to entertain you either, Lady Winston. I will not allow you to impugn me further. I would venture to say I have tolerated you well, all things considered.” Raven turned and nodded to his protégé who appeared at a loss for words. “Lord Winston, I believe your aunt could use a glass of punch and some fresh air.” He gave a slight nod to Samantha and strode away.

  He went into the gentlemen’s parlor. Damnation, he needed a strong drink. And maybe something more.

  Her brother interrogated with little patience. “What did you say to anger him so? I demand to know, Samantha. Did you call him all those invectives? This man could be important to my interests and yours. Why do you attempt to alienate all men and why this one in particular? You behaved like a shrew.”

  “I don’t know, brother,” she said, ashamed of her actions. “He just seems so stuffy and sure of himself. He can be such a prig.” He was better in the coach. Or was it his kiss that warmed her? He needed assistance then.

  “Who are you to say that about him? What, if anything, do you know?”

  “I read the newspapers,” she protested, although regretting her very words. Oh, why, couldn’t she guard her words? Why, did she have to demean him when it wasn’t her intention? She justified herself. “The man is all about profits and industrialization of the nation, amongst other things.”

  Samantha realized how her words sounded like foolish prattle. She added, “He has no heart.” Not sure why she demonized him so; he could be someone she wanted to know better. However, she did feel she went too far. He’d made a worthy adversary, and she admired that more than anything. But how could she compensate for her rude behavior at this stage of the game? Yes, it was also a contest.

  “That man is a giant amongst small minded men. He is the future of England, Samantha. I’m ashamed of you and your free opinions.” Her brother’s voice was filled with anger. “I will try to make amends, but I forbid you to offend him again, do you understand?”

  Winston’s words presented a strong temptation for her to inform him he had no right to tell her what to do and whom to do it with, but for the sake of proprietary, she bit her lips.

  Winston walked away and returned with a glass of water for his aunt, who frowned and retreated to a couch. Samantha tapped her foot in frustration.

  “Do you need fresh air, Aunt?” Winston asked.

  Aunt Minerva sipped and regained her composure. She shook her head. “No, but thank you, nephew. Samantha and I require some time together. Why not join the men in the gentleman’s parlor?” Lady Minerva turned to Samantha. “Tell me, my dear; you didn’t call him an egotistical, vain old man, did you?”

  “Yes, Aunt Min. I did.”

  “Your brother is right that you drive all men away on purpose. You do this with anyone who takes an interest in you, even if it’s just casual. Men want women who are content to be women, not women who want to be men. Women who are soft, compliant and agreeable appeal to their vanities.” She took a deep breath. “We’ve discussed this before.” She sighed with apparent annoyance.

  “Aunt Min, I don’t want to be a man. Why is this world for men only? Why can they do things that we can’t? Why is it that I must preen and pretend I’m a ninny to attract someone’s attention?” She firmed her chin in silent defiance and her fan whisked the air around them both. “I would rather be unmarried. Marriage to Percival held no joy.” When she realized she spoke in haste, she changed the subject before her aunt could ask any questions.

  “Samantha, relax your fan. You have created a gale wind.” Her aunt adjusted her posture, and fingered her sleeve. “You will find that it’s more enjoyable to mold a man to your taste than to bludgeon him and recast him in the image you seek. It’s not possible, my child.”

  Lady Minerva took Samantha’s hand yet again and seized the errant fan.

  “Since Cleopatra, women have been content to use their considerable wiles to influence a man. Why do you act like a harridan?” Lady Minerva grasped Samantha’s hand.

  She ignored some guests who were staring at the animated conversation and pushed away her aunt’s hand as it attempted to tuck a wayward curl in place.

  “Dear child, I worry about you because while it’s admirable to see your independent nature, I see no softness in you when you have to espouse your ideals. Th
at exchange with His Grace became quite disrespectful. You waged war on him.”

  “Yes, I did. Why not? It’s exciting. He handled himself well. I’ll give him that.” She considered the remark. “Oh, Aunt Min, I know I disappoint you, but you are like a mother to me. I thought to use my education for good. I want more than a wealthy husband. I told the duke when he asked that I want a forever husband and an extraordinary kind of love.”

  “Oh, my. We don’t always get what we want. How long is forever?” Her plumed head nodded when she returned the folded fan to Samantha’s fidgeting hand. “Is forever through eternity or just this world? Is forever until the end of time? Is forever until the next generation inherits? Sometimes, child, ordinary love with the right man can be a great comfort. Now promise me, you will not insult Ravensmere any more this evening.”

  “I will try, Aunt Min, but I can’t promise.”

  “Do your best, child, and get your head out of the stars.”

  They walked across the ballroom to greet other acquaintances.

  “You have given me a headache. If you continue with this attitude, I shall not live long. My heart will not endure. I have survived wars in India, politics of Russian princes, and English social mores, but this is too much. Be considerate of your aunt.”

  Chastised, Samantha just smiled and held on tight to her aunt’s hand. “In that case, I will let you in on a secret. I think I like the duke, and it will be hard for him to forget me. Do you agree?”

  “How could he forget you after the insults you hurled? I’m surprised he didn’t order you hanged.” Lady Minerva said.

  Chapter Seven

  Raven entered the gentlemen’s parlor where some friends mingled, but chose not to greet them. He sat in a huge leather chair and gave his order to the attendant. With a brandy glass in one hand, alone for the moment, he took a gulp and savored the potent taste of the liquor. The libation was akin to a life preserver after his stormy conversation with the even stormier Samantha. Winston approached him.

  “Your Grace, I would like to apologize for my sister. She is quite spirited and unconventional. I don’t know what to say. It’s an embarrassment.” With a sincere smile, he asked, “May I sit for a moment?”

  Raven motioned to a chair. “Samantha is different from the rest of the women here, I would say,” he stated with reluctance. Again, the urge to tame that determined spirit overcame him. As he swirled the brandy in the snifter, gaze unfocused, he envisioned his future in a foggy crystal ball. She stood behind him in the vision—haughty, beautiful, and desirable.

  He motioned to the attendant. Winston ordered a brandy. “I’m proud of her education, Your Grace. My mother had the same qualities, but she used her education as a gift to be bestowed, and was gracious to all.”

  Raven remembered his own Liana who enjoyed the same qualities. His anger still existed, and his mind raged like an unleashed conqueror hell bent on taking no prisoners. It was an upheaval of monumental proportions—like a whirlwind. He exercised complete and absolute control of his voice. It became a practiced skill he honed every day of his life.

  Winston sipped his brandy, and swallowed hard. “Samantha desires to champion women’s causes. She has a good business sense. She returned the country estate to Sir Percival’s family, and in return kept the townhouse to use as a school for the Foundation. She relinquished his name also and reclaimed the Winston title through the courts. I’m her trustee, Your Grace. In all truth, to have Samantha and Aunt Minerva in our home is a joy. I have yet to find a suitable lady to marry, and they are excellent hostesses. My sister has a good countenance although she didn’t display it tonight. Again, I apologize.”

  “You are a fortunate young man to have such an accomplished and spirited sister,” Raven said. Then he added, “And an aunt who will now guide Lady Samantha.” He studied Lord Winston and thought back to a time of his youthful self. Was it so long ago? “Winston, you remind me of the young man I used to be. I remained a boy with a boy’s heart; then I grew up to be a man all too soon at my father’s death.” Oh, devil be taken, he was not ancient. Was it because of what she said?

  Whenever strong emotions assailed him, his disciplined nature came to the fore. He called on that regimen now and Reginald would not allow himself such vulnerability.

  However, he did repeat his invitation to Winston to visit with him and acquire more information about the new cartel. The malcontent with his sister should not affect her brother. The cartel could be lucrative and dangerous.

  Winston appeared pleased about the invitation. “To be included is an honor to me,” he stated. “I’m desirous to obtain a maturity which will purport my new resolve. I do admit that some of my youthful adventures caught up with me.”

  “Winston, I envy you those escapades. I wish I could recall any.” Damnation.

  With sincerity evident in his tone, the young man said, “I desire to be a good earl, Your Grace. I need my family’s pride in all that I do. I want to use my title for noble causes.”

  Raven noted the younger man’s flushed face.

  “I have a confession, Your Grace. I bought the seat to become a member of your Agricultural Committee. I need your wise counsel and experience.” He gulped all of the brandy.

  “I have indicated a desire to be your mentor, Winston. Your sister has not changed my mind about this endeavor.” He smiled at the younger man in consideration and remembered being a youthful noble, too. No experienced lord counseled him, which was why he wanted to mentor many of the new peers. It was his solemn duty, and he embraced it with gusto.

  Winston took his leave and returned to his sister and aunt.

  “Ravensmere has been most generous with his time, Aunt.” In a curt manner, he addressed his sister. “He has forgiven you for your rudeness, Samantha. Remember what I instructed you tonight. There will be no more insults.”

  “His forgiveness knows no bounds.” She pouted. “I remember too well, my lord brother.”

  The musicians struck a new and resonant chord from their perch in the alcove. It surprised and pleased Samantha when Raven appeared to claim his waltz.

  Her effusive smile was intended to beguile as she melted into his arms. He twirled her around the floor, and it made her feel more than divine. Raven’s light-footed elegance swept her off her feet in a truly literal sense. Accomplished at the waltz, he charmed in an expansive way. She loved to dance, and she followed him with ease. Most of the time she thought life passed her by so dancing made her happy.

  “Your Grace, I do hope you will attend Almack’s for the auction.” Samantha spoke in a respectful tone. The subject would not cause irritation and gave them neutral ground. “It will attract some guests for a good cause, you know.” Her smile was meant to delight. They made their third turn around the ballroom.

  “I will consider it if you will give me the details. I could purchase a voucher.”

  “I doubt you will have any problem, Your Grace, since you are a man of good repute.” The ton reserved the right to restrict entry to any Almack’s function to people with disreputable backgrounds.

  His tone was imperious. “That is an understatement. Of course, I’m acceptable. My credentials speak for themselves.”

  “Your Grace, I meant no umbrage. Please don’t think so. I’m trying hard to atone for my disrespectful behavior.” She held her gaze to his glorious eyes.

  “Try harder. What items are to be auctioned that could be of interest to me, Lady Samantha?”

  “I am,” she hastened to explain. “Rather, all of the ladies will auction off their picnic lunch to the highest bidder. So will I since it’s our Foundation.” She proceeded to tell him that decorum, of course, would be observed. “The grounds of the park are splendid this time of year. There will be ample paths to walk along in full view, and restrictions are few.”

  “May I conclude that this event is not held at the Assembly Hall? If so, that is unusual.”

  “A dispensation has been granted. My aunt is the
Lady Patroness for this event. The auction is at the park, but there will be a dance event and refreshments served at the Assembly Hall afterward.

  “You have been included in the group?” An odd grin crossed his face.

  “What is so humorous?” she asked and tilted her head.

  “I wondered if you would offer a kiss to some young man to bid on your basket.”

  “Now there’s a thought, Your Grace. If I were to offer a kiss, would you have an interest?” She held his gaze and stared at his face.

  They twirled around the floor again. “Perhaps you’d be surprised at what I would do for another prolonged kiss.”

  Samantha bestowed upon him a smile that rivaled the chandeliers in the ballroom. “I have warned Brandon he is not to bid for me. It would be a total embarrassment to have one’s brother do so. My widow status has its drawbacks, you know.” Her light and pleasurable conversation she hoped would make for a welcome change. “I do hope that none of the rakish kind will offer for my basket. Men do feel widows are fair game. I’m not sure how I would handle such rakes. I have insufficient experience, but I suppose I will have to learn.”

  “My dear Samantha, do you expect me to believe that in these past three years, you haven’t encountered disreputable men?” He laughed. “I do believe you will have a sufficient amount of reputable young men who will bid on you and your picnic basket. After all, it’s for a good cause, isn’t it? But I do hope you will keep your conversation light, or you will suffer the young man to have indigestion or apoplexy.”

  Impishly, she said, “I deserved that. I like your sense of humor. It’s also good to hear you laugh. We do battle well.” Perhaps he could be a man of consequence?

  “Indeed, but I warn you, I have not started my retaliation. When one acquires an enemy, I don’t believe in keeping him or her closer; however, I might make an exception for you.”