Page 85 of The Spinster and Her Rakish Duke
“Stop the carriage,” she repeated, louder this time. “I wish to go to my uncle’s house.”
“Samantha, don’t be ridiculous?—”
“Please,” she interrupted, hating the pleading note in her voice but unable to suppress it. “I cannot… I need some time.”
Something flickered in his expression—regret, perhaps, or anger—before the mask descended once more. He rapped sharply on the roof, calling instructions to the driver that would redirect their course toward Lord Norfeld’s townhouse.
They did not speak again for the remainder of the journey. When the carriage finally halted before her uncle’s residence, Samantha gathered her dignity around her like a shield.
“I shall send for my things in the morning,” she said quietly, not looking at him as the footman opened the door.
“As you wish,” Ewan replied, his voice devoid of emotion.
Only when she had been admitted to her uncle’s house, only when she had climbed the stairs to the chamber that had once been hers, only when the door had closed behind her—only then did Samantha allow the tears to fall, silent sobs wracking her body as she mourned the death of dreams she had scarcely dared to acknowledge.
CHAPTER 26
The soft knock at her bedroom door came just as Samantha had managed to compose herself, her tears dried to salt tracks on her cheeks. She did not respond, hoping whoever sought entrance would assume she had retired for the night.
“Samantha?” Jane’s voice, gentle with concern, filtered through the wooden panel. “Are you awake? May I come in?”
Samantha hesitated, reluctant to burden her sister with her marital troubles yet desperately in need of comfort. “Yes,” she called finally, her voice hoarse from weeping.
The door opened to reveal Jane still in her evening attire, her blonde curls slightly disheveled from the evening breeze. Her expression shifted from curiosity to alarm as she took in Samantha’s tear-stained face and rumpled gown.
“Good heavens! What’s happened?” Jane rushed to her side, sitting beside her on the bed and taking her hands. “Lord Tenwick escorted me home and mentioned that you had left with the duke hours ago. I was so surprised to hear from Simmons that you had returned here instead.”
“Ewan and I…” Samantha began, then faltered, the words sticking in her throat. “We had a disagreement.”
Jane’s blue eyes widened with concern. “A disagreement? It must have been a terrible one to bring you here in such a state.”
“It was,” Samantha admitted, fresh tears threatening despite her determination to maintain composure. “I fear I may have ruined everything.”
“Nonsense,” Jane declared with unexpected firmness. “Nothing could be so dire between you. Anyone with eyes can see how deeply attached you’ve become to one another.”
A bitter laugh escaped Samantha. “Apparently not deeply enough.” She drew a shuddering breath before continuing. “I asked him about children, Jane. After seeing the Marchwood family tonight, I couldn’t help but imagine what it might be like—to have that kind of life, that kind of love.”
Understanding dawned in Jane’s expression. “And he refused.”
“Not just refused,” Samantha whispered, the pain fresh in her voice. “He said our entire relationship has been a mistake. Thatwe should return to our original arrangement—a marriage of convenience only.”
“Oh, Sam.” Jane wrapped her arms around her sister, holding her close as she had when they were children and Samantha had fallen from a tree or torn her favorite dress. “Men can be such fools when confronted with their deepest fears.”
Samantha drew back slightly, surprised by this unexpected insight. “What do you mean?”
“Only that His Grace strikes me as a man who guards his heart most carefully,” Jane replied thoughtfully. “And nothing threatens that guard more thoroughly than the prospect of becoming a father.”
“Because of his own father,” Samantha acknowledged, recalling Ewan’s haunted expression when he spoke of his childhood. “He’s so convinced that cruelty runs in his blood, Jane. That any child of his would inherit that darkness.”
“And you disagree?”
“Of course I do!” Samantha exclaimed, rising to pace the room with agitated steps. “I’ve seen his gentleness with Percy, his kindness to the village children, his consideration for our tenants. There isn’t a cruel bone in his body, despite what he believes about himself.”
Jane watched her sister’s movements with thoughtful eyes. “Perhaps what truly frightens him is not that a child might inherit his father’s cruelty, but that fatherhood might somehow transform him—that the responsibilities and pressures might awaken something in him that he has spent his life suppressing.”
Samantha paused, struck by her sister’s perception. “I hadn’t considered that.”
“Men like to think themselves entirely rational,” Jane continued with surprising wisdom, “but their fears are often as irrational as ours. And more difficult to acknowledge, since they’re not permitted the luxury of admitting to fear.”
