One Night with a Duke

by Sandra Masters

  “I want…want something.” Her cheeks burned, and she wasn’t sure why. She just experienced passion, desire, and lust, but where was love? Samantha averted her gaze, embarrassed and blinded by the unfamiliar emotions. The act of speech made her feel better and in control, but a floodtide of words emanated from her with a specific aim at him. She meant to keep her composure. Samantha stepped away from him once again, took his arm for strength to steady her.

  She questioned her morality. Was this what it was like to be decadent and wanton? The return to their table eased her discomfiture. A servant evidently repacked the basket and cleared the table. The champagne and wine remained available for their further enjoyment. His dark eyes pierced her.

  Raven sat her at the table, lowered his head to whisper in her ear. “Do you have some secret you wish to share with me?” His breath on her ear simmered with latent desire. She again enjoyed the tickle of the warm lips that caressed her ear.

  Samantha shuddered. “I have secrets, Raven, as does any woman. However, I don’t wish to share them with you just yet.” She avoided his dark coal eyes by closing hers. She wanted to laugh a moment when she realized all she experienced had been with her body fully clothed. “More’s the pity.”

  Made aware of her shiver, Raven wondered if the secret caused her body’s reaction and how badly it affected her. To him, she remained incomprehensible, incomparable and irresistible. Samantha invoked the pent up passion he stored away in some recess of his mind and body never to resurrect. Because without the mind, there can be none in the body. Without passion, there can be no love and conversely. Now he sounded like Samantha.

  What insanity.

  He recalled her words, “I want…want something.” Did she know to what she inferred when she spoke the provocative phrase? Did she want him as much as he wanted her?

  “Are you chilled? You shivered. Or is it that you find me unattractive?” He couldn’t be sure of what the woman would answer. This mysterious female intrigued him to distraction. He had to have her completely. The sooner the better. Her eyes invited, but her words didn’t.

  “Let me clarify further about a subject that obsesses you. I don’t want you as a mistress, Samantha. I apologize if you misunderstood. You’re a widow used to the pleasures of a man. I just thought to get to know you in a more intimate manner. What just occurred to us was an indication of things to come.” He placed his gloves in his hat and rested it on the table.

  “You’re supposed to answer, Samantha.” He realized his vulnerability, yet asked, “Is your silence your answer?”

  “No, Raven,” she blurted. “You confuse me when you talk about intimate moments.”

  He nodded as her expression changed. Raven acquiesced with a soft grin. His gut wrenched into a fiery chasm. “There should be no confusion. You mention intimate moments, too. Is that an invitation?” His smile meant to devour her, lick by lick.

  She answered simply, “I don’t know.”

  Instinct told him she wanted to share her secret, whatever it was, but that caution held her back. A question invaded. Was it Samantha he wanted, or did he want to resurrect his precious Liana through reincarnation? The dilemma caused him to contemplate. He’d never know. This relationship needed time to ponder—grow—ripen—harvest—or die. No, he didn’t want anything between them to die. He wanted to soar like an eagle with her by his side, not in his talons.

  “Do you like games of chance, Raven?” she asked.

  “Yes, though I don’t wager unless the stakes are worth the effort.” He fingered his monocle in order to regain his usual control.

  Samantha murmured, “It could be if you play your cards right. You do play cards, Raven?” One eyebrow arched in mischief. Her siren voice was a sultry invitation, again.

  “Indeed, I do. And I’m a winner more than not.”

  “Cards are a game of chance, aren’t they? I like to win, too.”

  “Does that mean you have a specific wager in mind?” He would play this game with her.

  “I do, but I won’t tell you now. Perhaps later when the stakes are higher,” she mocked with a sly smile.

  “I play for high limits. You know that, don’t you?” His manner became playful.

  “Of course, I’ll raise the ante when ready.”

  Raven became amused and interested in her game. Two could play at it.

  All of a sudden, her words assailed him. “Raven, you make me feel desirable, female and molten—too hot to touch and ready to scorch. Are you willing to be incinerated?”

  A truly wicked smile curled the corners of his mouth. “Ah, your words fall on welcome ears. Yes, we’ve demonstrated the chemistry between us blazes. And if I answer your question affirmatively?” He tested her.

  “I would do one of three things—set you afire, douse you with ice water, or swoon in your arms, if you promised to catch me.”

  His laughter riddled the air. “I promise, in all honor, to catch you. Is our truce over yet?” Oh, they could be a glorious couple. Patience was not a virtue he held in high supply.

  “Not to my knowledge. Did it ever begin?”

  He surveyed the almost empty tables and the woman in front of him. Ah, a surge of strong wills coursed through their conversation. His loins screamed in need.

  “Perhaps it’s best if we now went back to your family. Much to my regret, this time has been too short. I shall prepare myself for future incineration.”

  “Raven, I, too, look forward to the event as long as I can join you to the sun and back.” Her hand covered her throat, and she sighed. “Thank you for your assistance today. I won’t forget your kindness.” She placed her ungloved fingers on his, and for a short moment, caressed his. “It is my hope you understand what I can’t seem to say,” she said in a sultry whisper. “You have a sly naughty smile, Raven.”

  Encouraged, he kissed her palm.

  A maiden would never remove her gloves since it would be a distinct lack of propriety. Propriety be damned. She didn’t give two half-pennies for that lack. Samantha engaged his eyes and smiled in invitation. Would he accept?

  Her body tightened at the immense power of sensuality. She was ready to ride off with him on his black charger away to a fairy tale castle. Of necessity, she returned to the harsh reality of no more magic moments. They were gone with the sultry wind. She fidgeted from one foot to the other. They rejoined the family.

  Aunt Minerva smiled at them. “Samantha, my dear. What a success this has been. You will have enough funds to support the school for at least two years.” Her aunt looked to Raven. “Between now and then we can devise some other event which will assist our young ladies. Perhaps His Grace will have some suggestions for us. It’s always nice to get the opinion of other learned people. Above all, those ready to part with hard earned blunt.”

  Samantha exhaled, then inhaled, the oxygen cooling her. “This is such good news, Aunt Min. I’m ecstatic at the results.” She tilted her chin to Raven, and gazed longingly at him, and then back again to her aunt. “Aunt Min, but how can I thank you for your help and support in all of this because without you, it wouldn’t have been possible.” She embraced her aunt. Her words poured forth, “Does the headmistress know? It concerned her, I’m sure.”

  Schoolmistresses were a novelty in these times, but Samantha wouldn’t have it any other way. Having a woman to teach other women, one who understood with female emotion and education, was a criterion essential.

  “I’ve sent word to her, Samantha, since you seemed preoccupied.” Lady Minerva addressed Raven with humor in her tone, “Good show, Your Grace, we are indebted to your generosity to us. You gave that upstart, Lord Dudley, a comeuppance. Bravo.” She took Samantha’s arm. “I’m about to steal my niece away. We shall meet you gentlemen in the ballroom at the Assembly Hall. There are hired carriages to transport the ladies. There will be waltzes and refreshments for our further pleasure.”

  Lady Minerva strode away with Samantha in hand. “Precious child, are you all right
? You look besotted. I tried to keep a wary eye on you both. I could see his back, and you were encased in his embrace.” Her words faded off almost too soft to hear.

  “Aunt Min, do you attempt to ask if he kissed me?” She winked at her.

  “I hope he did. You’re beautiful. Why wouldn’t he?” They laughed. “I hope you returned the gesture. It’s more of excitement that way. Besides, dear one, he thinks you’re an experienced woman.”

  “Yes, I know. Raven has taught me more than I ever knew already, but it’s all a novelty. “I love you, Aunt Min.” She gifted a magnificent smile. Samantha turned around to see their two gentlemen in good-hearted conversation.

  “He did admire my emerald,” she said in mischief to her aunt. “And my bosom.”

  “As long as he didn’t touch, it will add to your education to the ways of men, my dear.” Lady Minerva smiled like a wily she-wolf.

  Samantha gazed over her aunt’s shoulder and wondered about a man leaning against a tree. The man wrote into a small pad of parchment. He looked away and then returned to his notes.

  Who was he and was he a friend or enemy? If a foe, what evil intent did he have? And who was the victim?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Serious thoughts entered Samantha’s mind upon their arrival at Almack’s Assembly Hall where they retired to the ladies rooms to refresh themselves. “He wants to get to know me better, Aunt Min. What does that mean? All I know is when I’m near him, I’m on fire. Is this passion? Oh, tell me.” She touched her emerald with nervous fingers.

  Aunt Minerva gave a poignant smile. “Child, I don’t have to tell you. You will know if it’s passion. If the blood courses through your veins and feels like a volcanic fire, it’s a good sign. Don’t confuse passion and love; sometimes they are twins and sometimes they aren’t. Give it time. Get to know him, too. In that way, you can be sure. Remember, my dear, he is a man, and from all accounts, I can see he’s a hungry, virile one. Has he dismissed Lady Buxton?” she asked.

  “I think so, Aunt Min. I believe the sapphire necklace is now a farewell gift to her.”

  “It will be the talk of the ton. They were together over eight years. You’re the cause of this.” Her aunt paused, brought her hand to her throat and let it linger. “The necklace was a generous and noble gift expected from a man of his stature and honor.”

  “He is most noble, Aunt Min, it defines him, and for all the right reasons. The nobility is not only in his blood but in his heart.”

  “I do believe all those qualities justify all he is.”

  “But Aunt Min, how I can be worthy of such a man?” she asked, thirsty for knowledge.

  “I would ask, my dear, how could he be worthy of you? You are a special woman. I believe he thinks so, too. Have patience. You’ve waited these three years. A few more days or weeks should not deter you. I remember being young once, and those days and weeks seemed an eternity.”

  Samantha moved closer to her aunt to speak in a soft voice. “Men are strange, Aunt Min. There are times he makes me so angry I want to pummel him. Then there are times when I want to do other things, but I don’t know what the other things are. I know how he makes me feel, and it confuses me. I don’t like this weakness on my part.”

  Her aunt said, “God spare me from men who function from noble motives because at the utmost they are good and can’t make up their mind—and that is the precise reason they can’t be trusted—and is also the reason they need us.” She laughed heartily. “You do not have a weakness, my girl. You have inexperience. All will come in good time. For the moment, enjoy the euphoria.”

  “I can’t abide these social mores. I want a love that endures. A love so essential that I couldn’t live without him.” Wasn’t that what Raven said? Perhaps not the last part, but of a certain, he said essential.

  Samantha sat alongside her aunt and observed ladies and matrons move around to check their hairstyles, rinse their hands, or just rest a moment. After a quick glance in the mirror, Samantha pulled out lip pomade from her reticule and colored her lips. “That’s better.” She smiled at her aunt. Then she whispered, “The lip rouge does not last long when kissing, does it?” She giggled for the first time that day.

  “Yes, I know. You must acquire patience and cultivate your relationship. Roses don’t bloom in the dark or without sunshine, water, and care. You need to know what you want, child. Search your heart. When you find out, don’t settle for less. The world is full of people who compromise and regret it.”

  That word showed its ugly head again: Compromise. She recalled she told Raven to do so made one die a little each time. Samantha arose and Lady Minerva and she headed to the main ballroom to find the men. The ladies returned from the Retiring Room and soon the men would join them. Samantha scanned the room at Almack’s; it was packed already. Soon the warmth would be unbearable, but was expected in such close quarters.

  It was of interest to Samantha that Aunt Min referred to Raven as one of their men in conversation. It was enough to make her happy again. They rejoined their group, and the stares of the onlookers became apparent. Murmurs emanated from whispers by certain ladies and gentlemen when they passed by and then became silent as the family approached.

  “Sister, congratulations, again. Aunt Minerva, as usual, you never fail to impress as a fantastic Patroness.”

  “Thank you, nephew, and special thanks to Raven, the Duke of Ravensmere. I would venture this event will be included in Almack’s history for centuries.”

  Lord Winston addressed his sister and Raven, “I do believe you two will be the talk of the ton for quite a while. Perhaps it shall appear in the gossip columns tomorrow. We’ll have to read the Tattler newspaper.” He faced Raven. “The Fleet Street pressmen will love the story of the auction and Raven’s five-pound increases. Good show with the last bid, Your Grace.”

  “This Member of Parliament will be castigated if it does become newsworthy. However, we couldn’t allow your sister to spend time with Lord Dudley, could we?”

  “No. Aunt Minerva held my hand captive,” Winston replied. He winked at his sister.

  “I must withdraw, ladies and Winston. There are others who would have a conversation with me on the current political conditions. However, I shall return, Lady Samantha, for the last waltz if you’ll allow me.” Raven kissed her now gloved hand, bowed and left their presence.

  Raven conversed with other nobles, but saw Winston enter the gentlemen’s room. In good spirit, he gravitated toward Winston and hailed an attendant. They placed their orders. Another gentleman approached Raven for a moment, but Winston’s ears perked at comments made by two other men. He interrupted, whispered to Raven, “You’ll want to eavesdrop on this conversation from those men behind the oriental screen. They can’t see us, but their words are loud enough to hear.”

  “Excuse us, Glasbury, we have to attend to an issue.” He turned his back and the gentleman moved on.

  They now listened.

  “I hear tell Ravensmere has formed a cartel which will rival the current gaslight company. Have you any knowledge?” the unknown man asked his companion.

  “There is a rumor of a great deal of money which could be secured in such a venture, although, in no way was I made aware he would head the conglomerate. This is food for thought. They will be competitors.” The gentleman took puffs of his cigar.

  “The information I received indicates the holding company will encompass huge acquisitions which include munitions, tea plantations, tobacco imports, distilleries and of course, shipbuilding.”

  “Shipbuilding, you say? How clever of him. There are no taxes imposed on imports if delivered by English ships. You have to give him credit for his farsightedness.”

  The two men rose from their chairs and moved away to the tables to wager.

  Raven retained his cool, regal composure.

  “Do you know them, Raven?”

  “Yes, I do. Those men are members of the current gaslight company. So the word has gotten out alr
eady. I’m not pleased about that, but we’ll have to keep our wits about us. Thank you for your vigilance, Winston. I’ll need to dwell upon this for a while.”

  “I couldn’t believe my ears.”

  “Have you read the information I left you?” Raven asked, his brow furrowed, his mind in contemplation.

  “I’ve studied all. There are parts I chose to reread. There are questions we can discuss at a later time.”

  “Yes, we can, Winston. I also wanted to advise you to consider depositing some of your money in an international bank. I can recommend an Israelite bank with whom I’ve dealt for years. Funds transfer within twenty-four hours without fear of loss. If you wish further information, do let me know.” He removed his pocket watch and ascertained the time. “However, I think we should return to the ladies. It’s almost the last dance. I want to enjoy waltzing with your sister. I can’t remember when I’ve had a better day.” He broadened his smile.

  Young ladies of Samantha’s acquaintance came up to her and Lady Minerva to gossip about the auction, Ravensmere, and the developing relationship. The Winston ladies smiled and avoided any pretext of permanent attachments.

  Lady Minerva stated, “Above all, Samantha is a wise matron whose first responsibility is to her family and her charity.”

  She whispered to her niece out of earshot, “When it becomes known that Raven no longer has a mistress, I don’t want them dragging your name through the mud. Mothers of the maidens will set their eyes and tentacles on the now-available duke like generals with precise plans of action and maneuvers.”