Page 14 of The Spinster and Her Rakish Duke (The Athena Society #3)

“ M y dear duchess, how absolutely radiant you look!” Lady Witherspoon squealed.

Samantha forced a smile as she stepped into the Duchess of Marchwood’s drawing room, accepting the warm embrace from Lady Witherspoon.

“You flatter me, my lady,” she responded.

“Nonsense,” the elderly woman declared, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “Marriage clearly agrees with you. That glow about you is unmistakable.”

If only she knew , Samantha thought grimly.

The supposed glow was likely the result of sleepless nights and the memory of her husband’s mouth on hers. She’d barely slept after fleeing from him the night before, her lips still burning from his kiss.

“Indeed,” agreed Lady Winterbourne, settling herself into a chair with a satisfied sigh. “Though I must say, Your Grace, we were all rather surprised by the speed of your courtship. One moment you were our steadfast spinster, the next you were wed to a duke!”

“Love moves in mysterious ways,” Samantha replied carefully, taking her seat in the circle of ladies.

“How romantic,” sighed Miss Weatherby. “You have found your perfect match.”

Perfect match . If only they knew how perfectly matched they were in their mutual ability to torment each other.

“Welcome, Your Grace.” The Duchess of Marchwood appeared in the doorway, her warm smile immediately putting Samantha at ease. “I’m so delighted you could join us today.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Your Grace. I confess I’ve been looking forward to discussing something other than household management.” Samantha stood to her feet.

The Duchess of Westmere rose from her chair, moving to embrace Samantha. “How lovely to see you again, Your Grace. I trust married life is treating you well?”

“It’s… an adjustment,” Samantha managed, hoping her voice didn’t betray the chaos of emotions swirling within her.

“All marriages require adjustment,” the Marchioness of Knightley observed, looking up from her book with a knowing smile. “The key is patience and understanding.”

“And wine,” added Lady Witherspoon cheerfully. “Lots of wine.”

The group erupted in laughter, and Samantha felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. This was what she’d needed, the company of women who understood the complexities of navigating society’s expectations.

“Now then,” the Duchess of Marchwood said, settling into her chair, “shall we discuss this month’s selection? I believe we’re reviewing Miss Austen’s Persuasion ?”

“A timely choice,” Lady Ashworth remarked with a meaningful look at Samantha. “The story of a woman who gets a second chance at love with the man she once refused.”

Samantha’s cheeks warmed. “I hardly think my situation comparable to Anne Elliot’s.”

“Perhaps not,” the Duchess of Westmere said gently, “but the themes of regret and redemption are universal, don’t you think?”

“What I find most fascinating,” Miss Weatherby interjected, “is Captain Wentworth’s struggle with his feelings. The way he tries to remain indifferent but cannot help himself.”

Samantha’s breath caught. The description struck uncomfortably close to home.

“Men do seem to excel at emotional avoidance,” she said, perhaps more sharply than intended.

“Indeed,” the Marchioness of Knightley agreed, adjusting her spectacles. “Though in my experience, the ones who fight their feelings the hardest are often the ones who feel them most deeply.”

“You speak from experience, my lady?” Mrs. Thornfield asked with interest.

“Of course,” she replied with a fond smile. “He keeps composing terrible poetry about my eyes.”

The ladies giggled, but Samantha found herself lost in thought. Last night, Ewan had been anything but cold or distant. He’d been direct, intense, demanding answers she wasn’t ready to give. The memory of his heated words sent a shiver through her.

“Your Grace?” The Duchess of Marchwood’s voice drew her back to the present. “You seem distracted. Are you quite well?”

“Forgive me. I was merely… considering Anne’s struggle with trust.”

“Ah, yes,” Lady Ashworth said knowingly. “It’s difficult to open one’s heart again after being hurt.”

“Particularly when one fears the gentleman’s intentions may be purely… physical,” the Duchess of Westmere added almost flippantly.

Samantha’s cheeks burned. How… could it be possible that she knew?

“But surely,” Lady Langston interjected, “physical attraction can grow into something deeper, can’t it?”

“Of course,” the Marchioness of Knightley replied, adjusting her spectacles. “Though it requires vulnerability from both parties. One must be willing to risk being hurt again.”

Oh. Wasn’t… Wasn’t that exactly what she was afraid of?

“But how does one know,” she asked carefully, “if a gentleman’s feelings extend beyond mere desire?”

“Time,” the Duchess of Westmere said simply. “Actions speak louder than words, don’t they?”

“Indeed,” agreed Mrs. Thornfield. “A man may say anything in the heat of passion, but his behavior in quieter moments reveals his true character.”

The conversation continued, but Samantha found herself barely listening. Her mind kept drifting to the previous evening: the intensity in Ewan’s eyes, the desperate hunger in his kiss, the way he’d said he’d turned down other women because he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

But what did any of that mean beyond the physical?

“I do think,” Lady Winterbourne was saying, “that Anne shows remarkable strength in giving him a second chance. Not every woman would be so forgiving.”

“Forgiveness requires understanding,” the Duchess of Marchwood observed. “And understanding requires honesty, something that can be frightening when one has been hurt before.”

Honesty. The word echoed in Samantha’s mind. Ewan had been brutally honest about his desire, but what lay beneath that hunger? When had they ever talked about anything deeper than mutual attraction?

The meeting continued for another hour, but Samantha’s attention kept wandering. Every comment about misunderstandings and second chances seemed to speak directly to her situation. By the time they were discussing next month’s selection, she was thoroughly unsettled.

“I believe that concludes our discussion,” the Duchess of Marchwood announced finally. “Thank you all for such stimulating conversation.”

The ladies began to gather their things, chattering about social obligations and upcoming events. Samantha rose to leave, eager to return to the relative safety of her carriage.

“Your Grace,” the Duchess of Marchwood called out as she reached the door. “Might I have a word?”

Samantha turned to find the Duchess of Westmere and the Marchioness of Knightley lingering as well, their expressions kind but knowing.

“Would you care to join us for tea in the garden?” the Duchess of Marchwood continued. “It’s such a lovely afternoon, and I thought we might enjoy some private conversation.”

Samantha hesitated. The last thing she needed was more well-meaning advice about marriage.

But the alternative was returning to Valemont Hall, where Ewan would be waiting with those knowing green eyes and that maddening smile laced with seduction that she knew she would immediately fall for now that she’d had a taste of it.

“I would be delighted,” she said, her voice only slightly strained.

Anything to delay the inevitable confrontation with her husband and the chaos of emotions he inspired inside her.