Page 8 of The Spinster and Her Rakish Duke
“I find it useful to maintain a broad range of interests,” he replied, enjoying the flash of irritation in her eyes… maybe far more than he ought to.
“Indeed? And do you find that such breadth of knowledge serves you well in all your… various pursuits?”
The emphasis on ‘various pursuits’ was subtle but unmistakable. Clearly, the lady had heard rumors about his associations with women like Isabella.
“I’ve found that understanding human nature in all its complexities proves invaluable,” he said, holding her gaze. “Though I suspect you might disagree with mymethodsof study.”
Her cheeks flushed, eyes flashing. “I wouldn’t presume to judge another’s educational choices, Your Grace, though I do believe some subjects might be better studied in… private settings.”
“Samantha,” Jane whispered, tugging at her sister’s sleeve.
“Your Grace, pardon the interruption,” their host, Lord Worthington, appeared at Ewan’s elbow with impeccable timing. “Might I introduce tonight’s performer? Signora Marchetti has expressed a particular desire to make your acquaintance.”
Isabella approached with fluid grace, her smile warm but professionally calculated. “Your Grace,” she said, her accent lending music to the words, “it is such a pleasure to meet you properly.”
“The pleasure is entirely mine, Signora,” Ewan replied, bowing over her extended hand. “Your reputation as a performer precedes you.”
“How kind,” Isabella purred, her fingers lingering against his just a moment longer than propriety demanded. “I do hope you’ll find time to attend one of my performances while I’m in the area.”
From the corner of his eye, Ewan caught Lady Samantha’s expression. Despite her best efforts, she certainly did not think too highly of their exchange, and her blue eyes had taken on an even frostier quality as she watched the exchange.
He found her disapproval oddly gratifying.
“I shall certainly consider it,” he told Isabella, his voice carrying just enough warmth to maintain the pretense of polite interest.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Lord Worthington announced, clapping his hands for attention, “if you would be so kind as to take your seats, this evening’s performance will begin shortly.”
The guests began moving toward the chairs arranged in neat rows facing the small stage. Lady Samantha linked arms with Jane, preparing to follow their uncle to their assigned seats.
As she passed Ewan, she paused just long enough to murmur, “Do enjoy the performance, Your Grace. I’m certain you’ll find it… educational.”
Her tone was perfectly polite, but the challenge in her eyes was unmistakable.
“Stop jiggling your leg,” Jane whispered, settling into her chair beside Samantha.
Samantha immediately stilled the restless movement. “I’m perfectly composed.”
“You’re fidgeting like a child in church.”
Samantha forced herself to sit straighter, folding her hands in her lap with deliberate calm. She allowed her gaze to wander across the assembled crowd, noting the social hierarchies that governed every gathering.
Her eyes found the Duke of Valemont sitting three rows ahead, with Lord Stonehall beside him. As if sensing her attention, he turned, and their gazes met across the intervening space.
The connection lasted only a moment, but it sent an unwelcome flutter through her chest. She immediately looked away, focusing intently on the stage curtains.
The performance itself passed in a blur of Italian arias and dramatic gestures. Signora Marchetti possessed undeniable talent, her voice soaring through the intimate space with impressive range. Yet Samantha found herself distracted, her attention divided between the stage and the uncomfortable awareness of the duke’s presence nearby.
When the final notes faded and polite applause filled the room, Samantha felt only relief.
“Wasn’t she magnificent?” Jane sighed as they rose from their seats. “Such passion, such artistry!”
“I found her rather theatrical,” Samantha replied carefully as they made their way back toward the main drawing room where refreshments awaited.
“Theatrical? But she’s a performer!”
“There’s a difference between artistry and exhibition.”
Jane gave her a curious look but said nothing more as they rejoined the milling crowd. Uncle William had wandered off to speak with some business acquaintances, leaving the sisters to navigate the social currents alone.
