One Night with a Duke

by Sandra Masters

  Samantha nodded. “I pity Raven, but his aloofness is an obstacle.”

  “Perhaps to others, but not to you, my dear.” She arched her brows. “Look away now, Samantha. Lord Dudley is approaching,” Lady Minerva whispered.

  Samantha continued the discussion with her aunt in hushed tones. “That’s one man I don’t wish to see ever again.” She took a deep breath and expressed disapproval by rolling her eyes back.

  “Too late,” Aunt Minerva cautioned.

  His lordship bowed to them. “Ladies, it’s not often I can find two such beautiful women without the company of some gentlemen in their midst,” the man said in a jocular tone.

  “If you wish, I can arrange for other gentlemen to join us,” was Samantha’s acid-tinged reply.

  Dudley addressed her and inquired if she enjoyed the picnic lunch.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Such an expensive meal to say the least, but then Ravensmere can well afford extravagances,” Lord Dudley mocked. Sarcasm dripped from his voice.

  Samantha braced her shoulders to defend Raven. “On the contrary, His Grace, Ravensmere, realizes the obligation the nobility has to help support the charities which will bring certain reforms to the country. The Winston Foundation is a small institution, but it espouses a great cause.”

  She turned her back to the man. Not one who took an affront in a serious manner, he moved to face her. “It appears I have offended you, Lady Foxton,” he said in a sycophant voice.

  She bristled at the mention of her former name. To her, it represented a deliberate slur.

  He noted her expression, “Oh, so sorry. Lady Winston, I believe. I don’t find a need to challenge the cause, just the expenditure.”

  “Who are you to confront a duke about how he chooses to spend his money? You, sir, could not be accused of extravagance in that regard since you stopped your bid, didn’t you?” She looked down her nose with evident contempt. Her fan whisked through the air again like a typhoon in season. “Pray tell how else are charities to get contributions if not from the generosity and largess of certain noblemen. Men control the purses in this country. A woman’s recourse is through her relatives and her husband “Go away,” she admonished.

  Her intentional chill could freeze the air when need be.

  Lord Dudley, though, must have worn armor plate. He smiled at them both and presented Lady Samantha with his card while he asked if they cared for refreshments. They refused. With the conversation at a standstill, he moved away to seek others more amenable to his presence.

  “I don’t like the way he looks at you, Samantha. That is a hungry man,” her aunt warned.

  “I hope he chokes on his food, Aunt Min.” They locked eyes with each other in agreement and laughed.

  Her brother stepped into view. “Sister, I will have to fight off your admirers after this. For your sake, be careful. I love you too much to see you hurt in any way. We have to make some decisions tomorrow, ladies. By the way, I have accepted Raven’s gracious invitation to visit his estate in five days time in the country to see the advances made in his farm operation. At breakfast, I will give you details.”

  He paused, took out his monocle, placed it awkwardly to his eye. “Why he has even installed a granary for his tenants. His estate has a small village with a mercantile store, an apothecary, an icehouse, and a small hospital. I can only imagine it’s quite extraordinary.”

  “Brandon, it would have been expedient if you gave us this information sooner. There is much preparation for such a trip. Aunt Min, are you up to this?” Samantha asked a weary looking aunt.

  “I would not miss it for the world, child. I’m sure there will be ample opportunity for me to rest. Who acts as his hostess, Brandon?”

  “I believe it’s his Aunt Margaret. Do you know her, aunt?” The monocle fell from her brother’s eye. Samantha paid no heed. It pleased her to see him preen like a marvelous peacock. She reached for his arm and joined her arm through his.

  “Oh, yes, I do. She is a fine lady. Lost her husband a decade ago, but he left her with a pile of wealth. I’m sure Raven is her guardian and financial advisor. She has a good head for money, though, perhaps not for men.” She paused a moment. “Margaret at one time wanted an attachment with my late husband.”

  “What happened, Aunt Min?” Samantha wanted to know, now curious. Her aunt must have led a life of extreme interest because all these never-before-revealed tidbits of information crept out.

  “I made short work of her, my dear. In my younger day, determination ruled once I made up my mind. She helped me to do so. Did I tell you my archery won prizes? The primary reason I keep a small pistol in my reticule is because of Margaret. I was prepared to shoot her or the earl before he proposed to me. I can’t tell you the story in front of this rascal, but I will tell you later, Samantha.”

  She removed her arm from Brandon’s. They laughed, but Samantha’s interest quickened.

  Winston addressed his sister. “What is the card you hold in your hand?”

  “Oh, that boor Dudley gave it to me. The man refuses to take a cut. Here, I don’t want it.”

  She slipped it into his pocket.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The last waltz sounded and true to his word, Samantha turned to see Raven arrive and extend his arm, which she accepted with a smile. They twirled across the ballroom floor as if on air. His elegant style and ramrod straight posture guided her through the intricacies of the new dance fad yet again. She enjoyed being with him, but dancing with him was pure joy. A lightning bolt scorched between them. Hmm, what exactly were his so-called honorable intentions?

  They’d spent so much time in battle, it impacted the advancement of the relationship between them. All that now changed. She wanted to feel like a woman—a desirable woman—a satisfied woman—with a man like him.

  It couldn’t have been a better night, yet it ended too soon for her taste. Her heart sang a serenade, and she waited in anticipation for the future and whatever would happen. Samantha wished he’d be part of her life. Raven excited her, and his kisses left her weak and longing for more. At least this man challenged her mind and body. Still unsure of him because of her inexperience in the ways of physical love, she needed to learn. Who better to teach her than him, a connoisseur of the arts?

  With the evening now over, they wrapped their cloaks around them to ward off the chill. They proceeded to the waiting carriages. Oil lamps lit the night, and the moon cast a bright glow. The crisp air smelled of snow or rain about to fall. Horses’ hooves moved in line and coachman’s steadying words were in the background.

  “Can you read my mind as well as the stars, Samantha,” Raven noticed her shiver again.

  “There’s a chill in the air. Your Grace, the constellations are easier to read. But you are a complex man and I would have to better study my astrology books.” She extended her hand. He took her gloved hand and kissed it, the warmth of his lips seeping through the soft leather. It sent a tingle through her fingers and up her arms.

  “Thank you for a memorable day…and evening. I shall never forget your attention,” she whispered and left to enter their carriage.

  “Until we meet again,” he whispered, “Au Revoir.”

  Samantha stopped a moment when she heard his French endearment. She turned to him. “Au Revoir, Your Grace.” Then she entered her carriage. She peered out the coach window, leaned forward and winked at him.

  A grin crossed his face as he nodded in approval.

  Raven waited until they left and then entered his coach. There was no doubt in his mind Samantha’s complexities labeled her. Could two such people have a future together? Raven remembered the promise to his late wife. Damnation to Hell.

  The coachman inquired as to the destination, and Raven tapped the roof with his walking cane, “Lady Buxton’s residence.”

  He didn’t shy away from difficult tasks but attacked them with logic and research. If a decision became obvious, he hastened to produce results.
In this case, with Lady Louise, he knew it would be difficult to terminate the relationship, yet in all fairness, there was no choice but for him to act in a swift and honorable manner.

  He tapped on the coach roof again and changed instructions, “Take me home.”

  Raven made a mental note to send word to Lady Louise of his arrival at two in the afternoon of the next day. It was best to do this sort of thing in the daylight hours so there could be no misinterpretation.

  Unpleasant as it would be, he knew to delay further would hurt her more. Damnation.

  What catapulted him to this decision? Samantha occupied too much of his thoughts. He didn’t have time for games and frivolity. Soon he laughed at how he sounded quite old when he yearned to feel young and alive again. Samantha responded to him with passion, and her challenges caused him to relive his youthfulness. Déjà vu? Something that has already happened but it seems like the first time. Or je ne sais quoi? A pleasant quality that’s hard to explain.

  Raven, exhausted with raw emotion, contemplated that passionate interlude with his lady. It amused him that he’d already branded her with his possessive title…his lady. Did the fates decree a more intimate relationship? He did enjoy the auction festivities, yet he frowned at his inner self control. True, he learned more about Samantha. They seemed to be able to converse with civility most of the time now, and with a certainty, there was a volcanic chemistry between them. The growing rapport held promise. There were kisses that heated the soul…and other parts during the afternoon they shared at the auction. He lost count of them and wanted so much more. They had a deep need to explore each other. Raven looked forward with pleasure to the endless possibilities.

  On the other hand, he couldn’t be sure if her independent nature was an advantage or disadvantage. World events wouldn’t change swiftly since women were no more than possessions of their men. Did Samantha want to enter a man’s world, or would she be content to support her man? It could present a difficult situation for the gentleman at her side. Or it could be a distraction she used as a defense. Perplexed, he also concluded too headstrong a woman could endanger and injure his reputation as a Member of Parliament. The social mores of the day couldn’t be changed overnight just to satisfy one headstrong, beautiful woman. A lady should know her place in high society, but Raven believed only Samantha predetermined what place she’d occupy, but again that was part of her allure. And he anticipated the challenge she represented.

  But then again, a sexual relationship could be everything he dreamed, but the other side of the coin was the day in, and day out activities that led to a meaningful existence of a couple. There had to be love—enduring love. Lust could never be enough to sustain the passion.

  Whatever the future brought, he was certain the arrangement with his mistress had ended. They’d spent many years together. Of late, Louise hinted of wanting a marriage commitment from him, but he managed to stave off the question either by his absence and visits to the continent to review his holdings, or by buying her an expensive trinket. He still held title to the house in which she resided, and while he would not hold that over her, her persistence increased and his fondness decreased.

  Foremost, the deathbed promise made to his late wife held great significance. How could he break his word? Everything he held holy was at stake. Ten years of mourning should mean something. Wasn’t he meant to now move on? He needed to know in his heart and soul that he could give himself permission to find a new love. Heaven help him—his hands longed to hold Samantha in her most intimate forbidden places. That latent desire was an unfathomable fascination.

  Raven planned to leave for his country home for a few days and return to London for the last session of Parliament. After that, his estate would beckon him away from the hot, putrid, dirty, smoke-filled London summers. This departure wouldn’t lend itself to see more of the Winston family, and of course, in particular, Samantha. Nonsense, who did Raven fool with that thought? He needed to see her again, so he used a subterfuge by the invitation to Winston and the ladies to visit Ravensmere for a week of entertainment. Winston accepted immediately. A note would have to be delivered by his under-footman to his Aunt Margaret to act as his hostess. His utmost desire was for a special week for everyone, but his mind primed for the opportunity for him and Samantha to know each other better and perhaps intimately—much more intimately. The last thought brought him a smile.

  In a more relaxed environment with family and friends, perhaps Raven could determine where his heart lay and assess if she had a true interest in him. Samantha never denied his advances. In fact, she returned them, perhaps not with the expert passion he would like, but with fervor and encouragement with a hint of naiveté. The kisses at the auction event simmered, and then scorched.

  ****

  At two in the afternoon the next day, Raven arrived at his mistress’s doorstep. The servant greeted him, and his hat, gloves, and walking stick soon lay on the hall sideboard, as always. Rollo, the butler, usually unreadable, appeared uneasy.

  “Is Lady Buxton available?” the duke asked, exhaling at the prospect of breaking his relationship even though he’d been practicing the words. He had no wish to cause her pain but wanted his freedom.

  “No, Your Grace. My lady has left.”

  It was then Raven noticed the faded wallpaper and the missing pictures that no longer hung on the wall. He walked into the bare sitting room devoid of most of its precious porcelain figurines and furniture, save for his favorite easy chair. He turned to the servant. “Where has she gone?”

  “There is a letter addressed to you on the mantel, Your Grace.”

  He walked toward the fireplace, retrieved the letter, and went to the chair to sit. Of habit, he reached for his monocle, placed it to his eye, and opened the letter.

  My dear Raven,

  This is difficult for me because I have cared for you such a long time. I am at the age where I need security and marriage, but we now have different goals. I have accepted a proposal from an old friend and our marriage will take place in Belgium upon my arrival there.

  These past few years we have seen less and less of each other, and rather than wait for you to dismiss me, I have chosen otherwise. If I truly thought there was any chance we could live together as man and wife, I would not be writing this letter.

  I do wish you a full life and hope you find peace and contentment in whatever you do. I regret more than you know that I was not the object of your true affection. I have taken only that which belonged to me as I know you to be a generous man.

  Know that I wish you success in the future.

  Louise

  The monacle fell from his hand and dangled on its ribbon. He placed it in his pocket.

  The butler stood at attention in the foyer. Raven returned the letter to its envelope. “Rollo, are you still on retainer to me?” He needed to exercise his control and not give into the turmoil roiling inside. Noble intentions aside, relief rained over him like a blessing. Yes, his ego was badly wounded. Louise took the decision away from him. That brought a smile to his face.

  “Yes, Your Grace. At the moment, I am still in your employ.” He stared ahead without engaging the duke’s eyes.

  “Do you think you can find me a glass of my favorite cognac?”

  Rollo went to a tall cabinet, opened its doors, and poured the liquor into a crystal snifter three-quarters full and handed him the goblet. The ivory envelope in Raven’s right hand slipped to the parquet floor. Rollo retrieved the letter and handed it to Raven, who placed the missive in his pocket.

  Raven inhaled the fumes and took one large gulp. Leaning his head into the headrest of the wing back chair, he closed his eyes momentarily. The silence was uncomfortable.

  “Very well then.” He rose from the worn leather chair. “I find myself with one townhouse too many. I’m not prepared to make a decision; however, compile an inventory of what is left. I will have my majordomo meet with you to finalize plans. I might sell this fine manor and dona
te the funds to the church or some other worthy charity.” Perhaps he would offer it to Samantha’s foundation as another school?

  He stared at the cerulean colored drapes on the windows in stark contrast to the empty room. If these walls could talk, what secrets would they divulge? How long had Louise conducted this affair with her lover? No, he would not give in to anger, regret or curiosity. Some questions were best left unanswered. Yes, it hurt that she eloped with another man. The thought occurred to him to pummel his fist into a wall, break the plaster, and feel sorry for his broken hand.

  “My man, Randall, will speak to you. If you so desire, there will be a place for you at Ravensmere in some capacity.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  “Did Lady Buxton invite you to remain in her employ? I know how fond she was of you.”

  Rollo now engaged the duke’s eyes for a moment. “She did. I prefer England, and you, my duke.”

  “You have loyalty, which is a good quality. Stay on for a while until this matter is resolved. Ravensmere has its benefits, too.”

  “I have always admired Your Grace. It will be my pleasure to continue to serve you.”

  He handed Raven his accessories. Raven turned his back to the staircase and departed the house to his waiting carriage.

  Raven was free! A renewed sense of liberation infused and revitalized him. He donned his top hat, put on his kid gloves and held his walking stick when he entered his coach. At last, he had closure. Not the one that he had intended, but his honor remained intact. Except for the injury to his pride, the outcome was one he desired. His dignity would heal. How could Louise deceive him so? Then it occurred to him that he hadn’t graced her boudoir for many months. The harridans of the ton would spread their malicious gossip. It would be up to him to dispel their vile comments, and the best way would be to escort a new woman around town. Yes, they would assume it was he who broke the arrangement. Perhaps in a tender moment, he might tell Samantha the truth, but the wound was too invasive to think about now. Unsavory images assailed him. Had they fornicated in his bed at her townhouse? How dishonorable an act that was, and totally beneath her sensibilities.