Page 75 of The Spinster and Her Rakish Duke
“It’s rather like watching ice melt in spring,” Annabelle observed with a gentle smile. “Slow at first, then all at once, revealing the life that was dormant beneath.”
Love. The word hung in the air between them, fragile and potent. Samantha felt it resonate within her chest, a truth too powerful to deny yet still too new to fully comprehend. The sentiment remained unspoken between her and her husband, though constantly demonstrated: in his touch, his care, the way he included her in decisions regarding the estate, his willingness to reveal his deepest vulnerabilities.
“I believe,” she said finally, choosing her words with care, “that His Grace and I have discovered an unexpected compatibility that has made our arrangement far more rewarding than either of us anticipated.”
This diplomatic understatement was met with knowing smiles from the assembled ladies.
“‘Compatibility,’”“ Lady Harrington repeated with a snort. “Is that what the young people are calling it these days? In my time, we spoke plainly of passion and desire.”
“Perhaps some things are best left to the imagination, Lady Harrington,” Samantha suggested, lifting her teacup to hide her smile.
“At my age, my dear, imagination is often preferable to reality,” the elderly woman replied with a wicked twinkle in her rheumy eyes. “But I am delighted to see you so happy. When you first joined our little society, there was a sadness about you—a resignation that had no place in one so young. Now you fairly sparkle with life. Marriage clearly agrees with you.”
“Or perhaps it is simply the right husband that agrees with me,” Samantha replied quietly.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Emma said, a soft reminiscence in her voice that suggested she was thinking of her own duke. “When I married Victor, I was so certain our union would be merely practical—a marriage of convenience for us both. Yet sometimesthe heart discovers compatibility where the mind least expects it.”
“Henry and I were much the same,” Annabelle added with a knowing smile directed at Samantha. “Thrown together by circumstance rather than choice, only to discover that fate perhaps knew better than we did all along.”
The conversation mercifully turned then to the upcoming publication of a new novel that had already generated significant controversy among London’s literary circles. Samantha participated with genuine interest, grateful for the reprieve from personal inquiries while silently acknowledging the truth of their observations.
She had indeed been resigned—to spinsterhood, to disappointment, to a life defined by the humiliation Adam had inflicted. Now she found herself transformed, not by marriage itself, but by the discovery that love could heal wounds she had thought permanent, that trust could be rebuilt from the ashes of betrayal.
As the meeting drew to a close, with plans made for their next gathering and the selection of their next literary subject determined, Samantha found herself lingering in conversation with Emma and Annabelle while the other ladies retrieved their bonnets and shawls.
“I hope our teasing did not discomfit you too greatly,” Emma said quietly. “The ladies mean well, though their curiosity sometimes overwhelms their sense of propriety.”
“Not at all,” Samantha assured her with a smile. “I find their interest touching, if occasionally overwhelming.”
“They have watched over you since you joined us,” Annabelle explained. “Many of them remember what it was to be young and uncertain, to face disappointment in matters of the heart. Your happiness gives them hope.”
“Hope?” Samantha echoed, puzzled. “But most are happily settled, with marriages spanning decades.”
“Even the most fortunate marriage contains moments of doubt,” Emma replied, her expression thoughtful. “Periods when the connection between husband and wife seems tenuous at best. To see two people who began as strangers find such profound understanding—it reminds us all that renewal is always possible, that love can flourish in the most unexpected circumstances.”
“And that the heart sometimes knows what the mind refuses to acknowledge,” Annabelle added with a meaningful smile. “I suspect you and your duke discovered that truth just as Henry and I did.”
Touched by their perspectives, Samantha impulsively embraced both women. “Thank you for sharing that with me. And for welcoming me into the Athena Society, even when I was at my most withdrawn.”
“Books bring us together,” Emma replied with a warm smile, “but it is the reading of human hearts that sustains us through life’s chapters, both joyful and sorrowful.”
“And speaking of reading,” Annabelle added with a conspiratorial twinkle, “do let us know if you require any… supplementary material beyond Mrs. Radcliffe. Lady Knightley has a most illuminating collection of French novels that have proven quite educational for several of our members.”
With these words of wisdom—and slightly scandalous suggestion—echoing in her mind, Samantha took her leave, stepping into the carriage that would return her to Valemont’s London townhouse—to Ewan, who would no doubt be waiting with that particular smile he reserved only for her, the one that made her feel simultaneously cherished and desired.
She greatly hoped that it would continue to stay that way.
CHAPTER 23
“Istill cannot fathom why the Viscount insisted on accompanying us,” Ewan muttered as their carriage rolled down the winding country lane toward the village of Valemont. “The last time Percy showed interest in tenant matters, he attempted to stage a pastoral drama with the shepherd’s flock as supporting players.”
Samantha bit back a smile, recalling the tale the Marquess of Tenwick had regaled them with over dinner the previous evening. “The sheep were uncooperative, as I understand it.”
“Tragically so,” Ewan agreed, his expression caught between exasperation and fondness. “Though Percy insisted they simply lacked proper motivation.”
“Perhaps today he might find a more receptive audience among the village children,” Samantha suggested, glancing at the passing scenery—rolling fields giving way to the first scattered cottages of Valemont village. “They, at least, might appreciate his theatrical inclinations.”
“God help us all if he decides to enlist them in one of his productions.” Despite his words, there was no real censure in Ewan’s tone, only the bemused affection that increasingly colored his interactions with his nephew.
