Page 71 of The Spinster and Her Rakish Duke
“How demanding you are, my lord,” she murmured, though she leaned into him willingly when his arm circled her waist.
“Only with you,” he replied, his lips brushing her temple in a kiss that was both tender and possessive. “Only ever with you.”
The Hartleys’ garden was resplendent in early summer glory, a riot of color and fragrance that drew appreciative murmurs from the assembled guests.
Samantha walked beside Ewan, her arm linked through his, while Percy fidgeted nervously at their side, his eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of Miss Waverly.
“Remember,” Ewan was saying quietly to his nephew, “engage her in conversation about her interests. Ask questions. Listen to her responses. No poetry, no mythological references, andabsolutely nodramatic gestures.”
Percy nodded solemnly, though Samantha caught the gleam of mischief in his eyes that suggested compliance might be temporary at best. “I shall be the very model of restraint, Uncle.”
“See that you are,” Ewan replied, his tone brooking no argument. Then, his voice softening, he added, “She’ll appreciate sincerity far more than spectacle, Percy.”
Something in those words—perhaps the genuine concern beneath the stern exterior—touched Samantha deeply. For all his exasperation with Percy’s antics, Ewan truly wanted the boy to succeed, to find happiness rather than the mockery that often followed his more flamboyant displays.
“Valemont!” A familiar voice interrupted her thoughts, and she turned to see Ralph approaching, his handsome face alight with pleasure. “And Your Grace, looking radiant as always.”
“Lord Tenwick,” she greeted him warmly, genuinely pleased to see the man who had become something of a fixture in their household.
“The pleasure is entirely mine,” he assured her with a slight bow, before turning to Ewan. “I’ve just encountered the most astonishing display of American flora in the eastern garden. Thought you might be interested, given your discussions with Lord Pemberton about agricultural innovations.”
Ewan’s interest visibly piqued. “Indeed?”
Samantha, recognizing the gleam in her husband’s eye, smiled indulgently. “Go and investigate your plants, gentlemen. I shall keep watch over Percy and ensure he doesn’t recite epic poetry to unsuspecting debutantes.”
“A noble sacrifice,” Ewan murmured, pressing a brief kiss to her gloved hand before departing with Ralph, their heads already bent in serious discussion.
No sooner had they vanished into the crowd than Percy let out a strangled sound somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. “She’s here! With her mother and two other ladies, near the fountain.”
Samantha followed his gaze to where Charlotte Waverly stood, a petite brunette with a composed demeanor that suggested quiet intelligence rather than frivolous charm. “She seems perfectly approachable, Percy. Why not go and speak with her?”
“What if I forget all of Uncle’s advice?” he fretted, smoothing his already immaculate waistcoat. “What if I begin spouting metaphors about her eyes without meaning to?”
“Then bite your tongue,” Samantha suggested practically. “And if all else fails, remember what Jane told us—Miss Waverly has an interest in botany. Ask her about the exotic specimens on display.”
Percy squared his shoulders, drawing himself up to his full height. “You’re right, of course. A straightforward inquiry about botanical interests. Nothing poetic. Nothing mythological.” He paused, then added with a hint of his usual dramatic flair, “Wish me luck, Aunt Samantha. I go to face my destiny.”
Before she could offer any further counsel, he was striding across the lawn with determination etched in every line of his body. Samantha watched him go with a mixture of amusement and genuine concern, hoping fervently that he would manage to contain his more flamboyant tendencies long enough to make a favorable impression.
“That boy,” a voice remarked at her elbow, “is either heading for triumph or disaster. There seems to be no middle ground with Lord Stonehall.”
CHAPTER 21
Samantha turned to find Jane at her side, looking particularly lovely in a pale yellow walking dress that complemented her fair coloring. “One can only hope it’s the former,” she replied with a smile. “Though I confess, I’ve grown rather fond of his dramatic nature.”
“As have I,” Jane admitted, linking her arm through Samantha’s as they began to stroll along the garden path. “There’s something refreshing about someone who feels so deeply and expresses it so openly.”
Samantha cast a sidelong glance at her sister, noting the soft smile that played about her lips. “I’m surprised to hear you say so. I thought perhaps you might have developed an appreciation for a more… reserved temperament of late.”
Jane’s cheeks flushed delicately. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh? Then I must have imagined the way Lord Tenwick’s eyes follow you across every room, or the way you seem to seek his company at every gathering.” Samantha kept her tone light, though she watched her sister’s reaction carefully.
“Nonsense,” Jane protested, though the deepening color in her cheeks told a different story. “Lord Tenwick is merely being polite. He’s a friend of your husband’s, after all.”
“Indeed, and I’m certain his decision to call upon Uncle William three times last week was motivated purely by friendship for Ewan,” Samantha teased gently.
Jane fidgeted with her gloves, a sure sign of discomfort. “He… he is very kind. And rather handsome, I suppose. And he listens, truly listens, when I speak about my interests.”
