Page 74 of The Spinster and Her Rakish Duke
“My nephew merely wished to demonstrate the superiority of natural beauty over artificial ornamentation,” Samantha explained, recalling the lengthy justification her nephew-in-law had offered when pressed for details. “Unfortunately, the peacock took exception to Lord Blackwood’s wig and attempted to… incorporate it into its plumage.”
The resulting burst of laughter nearly upset Emma’s teacup, requiring a hasty intervention from the footman stationed discreetly behind her chair.
“How perfectly dreadful,” Lady Knightley said, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. “And how is His Grace managing his nephew’s… pursuits?”
“With remarkable forbearance,” Samantha replied, a note of genuine warmth entering her voice as she thought of Ewan’s patient tutelage. “The Duke takes his responsibilities as guardian quite seriously.”
“As he should,” Lady Harrington nodded approvingly. “The boy will be a duke someday, after all. He cannot go about releasing peacocks in polite society when he holds such a title.”
“I wouldn’t be so certain,” Emma remarked with a wry smile. “Victor still reminisces about releasing frogs in his grandfather’s study, and he’s been a duke for years now.”
“That explains young Tristan’s fascination with amphibians,” Annabelle observed, referencing Emma’s son from her first marriage. “I’ve never seen a boy so eager to wade into every pond he encounters.”
Samantha nodded her agreement, though privately she wondered if Percy’s exuberant spirit would ever be fully contained by the constraints of aristocratic propriety—or if it should be. There was something refreshing about his refusalto conform, his determination to experience life with all the intensity his romantic soul could muster.
“And speaking of young people in need of guidance,” Lady Harrington interjected with barely concealed eagerness, “is it true that your lovely sister has captured the attention of the Marquess of Tenwick? I saw them riding together in the park just yesterday, looking most companionable.”
Samantha felt her cheeks warm slightly under the collective gaze of the Athena Society. She had indeed chaperoned Jane and Lord Tenwick on several morning rides, watching with quiet pleasure as her sister’s natural vivacity drew the usually sardonic marquess out of his carefully maintained shell of cynicism.
“My sister enjoys Lord Tenwick’s company,” she acknowledged carefully. “They share an interest in… horsemanship.”
“Horsemanship!” Lady Harrington cackled, slapping her knee with undignified glee. “Is that what they’re calling courtship these days? My dear Duchess, you must know that half thetonis already speculating on when the announcement will appear in the papers.”
“I believe such speculations are premature,” Samantha replied, though she could not entirely hide her smile. The attraction between Jane and Lord Tenwick had been increasingly evident over the past fortnight, as she’d well noticed.
“Perhaps,” Emma said with gentle understanding, “but it would be a most advantageous match. The Marquess is well-respected, despite his… reputation for unconventional wit.”
“And handsome as sin,” Annabelle added with a knowing smile that suggested her own handsome duke had spoiled her for appreciating other men’s charms. “Though not quite as striking as your duke, of course.”
“I had not noticed,” Samantha said primly, though the ladies’ knowing looks suggested they found this claim entirely unconvincing.
“Well, well,” Lady Harrington said, tapping her cane thoughtfully against the carpet. “Two sisters, wed to two of the most eligible peers in England. Your uncle must be beside himself with satisfaction.”
“My uncle has always wished for our happiness above all else,” Samantha corrected gently. “Titles and fortunes are secondary considerations.”
“How charmingly idealistic,” Lady Harrington remarked, though not unkindly. “But speaking of happiness, you must tell us how married life suits you, my dear. You positively glow with contentment these days.”
The question, though asked with genuine affection, brought a deeper flush to Samantha’s cheeks. How could she possibly describe the transformation that had occurred in her marriage without revealing the intimate details that propriety forbadediscussing? The tenderness Ewan showed her behind closed doors, the way his eyes softened when they were alone, the passion that ignited between them with the merest touch—these were treasures too precious to be exposed to even the most well-meaning scrutiny.
“His Grace is everything a husband should be,” she said simply, hoping the warmth in her voice would convey what modesty prevented her from expressing directly.
“Attentive?” Annabelle suggested with a meaningful arch of her eyebrow.
“Considerate?” Emma added, her lips quirking in a barely suppressed smile.
“Vigorous?” Lady Harrington contributed bluntly, causing several ladies to choke on their tea simultaneously.
“Ladies!” Samantha protested, though she could not help but laugh at their shameless prodding. “I believe we have strayed rather far from our discussion of Mrs. Radcliffe’s use of Gothic elements, have we not?”
“Gothic elements are all very well,” Lady Harrington dismissed with a wave of her gnarled hand, “but a virile duke is far more interesting, my dear. Particularly one who looks at his duchess as though she hung the moon and stars.”
“Does he?” Samantha asked before she could stop herself, curiosity momentarily overcoming dignity.
The ladies exchanged triumphant glances at this inadvertent revelation of vulnerability.
“Oh, my dear,” Emma said kindly, reaching across to pat Samantha’s hand. “He most certainly does. Anyone with eyes can see it. The way he watches you when you enter a room, as though nothing else exists—it’s quite remarkable, especially for a man once considered the most confirmed bachelor in England.”
“The transformation is indeed striking,” Lady Harrington agreed. “I remember when the Duke was scarcely more than a boy, just after he inherited. So cold, so distant—as though he had encased himself in ice. But now…” She shook her head wonderingly. “Well, suffice it to say that love has worked its inevitable alchemy once again.”
