Page 18 of The Spinster and Her Rakish Duke (The Athena Society #3)
“ P ercy, I swear, if you recite even one line of poetry tonight, I will personally ensure you spend the remainder of the season locked in your chambers,” Ewan’s voice carried the sharp edge of authority as their carriage rolled toward Lord and Lady Kirkleigh’s soirée.
“Uncle, surely you cannot expect me to remain completely silent about the arts,” Percy protested, adjusting his cravat with theatrical precision. “What if someone asks my opinion on literature?”
“Then you will discuss the weather,” Ewan replied curtly, his green eyes flashing with warning. “At length, if necessary.”
Samantha smoothed her emerald silk gloves, watching the interplay between uncle and nephew with careful attention.
The tension from their dinner argument several nights past still lingered between her and Ewan like a barely contained storm, making every shared moment fraught with unspoken words.
“The weather is a perfectly respectable topic,” she offered diplomatically, though she caught the slight softening in Ewan’s expression at her attempt to mediate.
“Oh. Is it?” Percy tilted his head to the side. “Though I must say, Uncle, your concern seems rather excessive. I’ve been practicing restraint most admirably.”
“Your version of restraint,” Ewan said dryly, “still involves comparing ladies’ eyes to celestial bodies.”
“Only once! And Lady Pemberton seemed quite flattered by the comparison to Venus.”
“Venus is a planet, Percy.” Ewan said drily, his expression irked.
“Well, yes, but it’s also the goddess of love and beauty, which was clearly the more relevant?—”
“Percy,” Samantha interrupted gently, “perhaps tonight you might focus on asking questions rather than making proclamations? People do enjoy talking about themselves.”
The young viscount’s face brightened considerably. “Brilliant strategy, Aunt Samantha! I shall be the very picture of attentive inquiry.”
Ewan’s eyes met hers across the carriage, and held, and for a moment, Samantha almost forgot that she was still a bit angry at him. The moment passed quickly, though, and she looked away, cursing the way her cheeks warmed.
The Kirkleigh townhouse blazed with light, its windows casting golden rectangles onto the cobblestones as their carriage joined the queue of elegant vehicles.
Samantha’s pulse quickened as Ewan handed her down, his gloved fingers warm against hers even through the layers of fabric.
“Remember,” he murmured close to her ear as they climbed the steps, “we are the picture of conjugal contentment.”
The words sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine, though whether from the intimate tone or the reminder of their pretense, she couldn’t say.
“Samantha!” Jane’s voice rang out the moment they entered the drawing room, her sister practically glowing in a confection of pale blue silk. “Oh, how wonderful that you’re here!”
“Jane, you look absolutely enchanting,” Samantha replied warmly, embracing her sister while trying to ignore the way Ewan’s presence at her elbow made her skin tingle with awareness.
“Uncle William insisted on this gown,” Jane confided with a giggle. “He said the blue brings out my eyes.”
“Your uncle has excellent taste,” Ewan said smoothly, bowing over Jane’s gloved hand with practiced charm.
“Your Grace is too kind,” Jane replied, though her cheeks pinked prettily at the compliment. “I do hope you’re finding London agreeable?”
“Quite agreeable, particularly in such lovely company,” Ewan replied, and Samantha felt an unwelcome stab of something that might have been jealousy at his easy gallantry with her sister.
“Ewan! There you are, old man.”
Samantha turned to see Lord Tenwick approaching, his face wreathed in good humor as he clasped Ewan’s shoulder in greeting.
“Tenwick,” Ewan replied, and she noted how his entire demeanor lightened at his friend’s presence. “I wondered when you’d surface.”
“Been terribly busy with estate matters, I’m afraid. Dreadfully dull stuff.” The Marquess’ warm brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he turned to Samantha. “Your Grace, how delightful to see you again. Marriage clearly agrees with you.”
Samantha found it rather ironic how everyone kept saying that when the opposite was truly the case. Well, she supposed they were half right; marriage did agree with her. It was just that her rake of a husband certainly did not, on the important matters.
“Thank you, Lord Tenwick,” she replied, then noticed Jane watching the exchange with curious interest. “Jane, may I present Ralph Kennington, Marquess of Tenwick? Lord Tenwick, my sister, Lady Jane Brennan.”
Ralph’s bow was elegantly executed, but Samantha caught the way his eyes lingered on Jane’s face as he straightened. “Lady Jane, the pleasure is entirely mine.”
“Lord Tenwick,” Jane replied softly, her usual vivacity replaced by an unusual shyness that made Samantha’s eyebrows rise. “I… that is, I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“The pleasure is mutual, I assure you,” The Marquess said, his voice gentler than Samantha had ever heard it. “I don’t suppose you’d care for some refreshment? The evening is rather warm.”
“That would be lovely,” Jane murmured, her cheeks coloring delicately as Lord Tenwick offered his arm.
Samantha watched them move toward the refreshment table, noting the careful attention the Marquess paid to Jane’s every word and the way her sister’s face glowed under his regard.
Oh dear. She could already see the hearts in her sister’s eyes.
She spared a glance at Percy, but the young viscount was hardly paying them any attention, already trying to strike up conversation with his peers.
It was just as well that the young man was quick to find interests in other things.
Otherwise, this would have been a disaster in the making.
“Interesting,” Ewan observed quietly beside her.
It truly was, indeed, but Samantha could not stop herself from questioning him still. “What’s interesting?”
“Ralph’s never shown the slightest interest in debutantes before. Usually, he finds them tiresome.” Her husband said, his words coming out in a drawl.
“Perhaps he simply recognizes quality when he sees it,” Samantha replied, a note of defensiveness creeping into her voice.
“Perhaps,” Ewan agreed, though something in his tone suggested he found the development amusing rather than concerning.
“Ah, Your Grace, there you are,” Uncle William approached, slightly out of breath. “Lord Pemberton was just asking about your thoughts on the new agricultural reforms. Seems there’s quite a discussion brewing in the library.”
“Duty calls,” Ewan murmured to Samantha, his breath warm against her ear. “Will you be quite all right?”
The question seemed to carry more weight than mere politeness, and she found herself swaying between emotions, unsure of what to feel about this man.
How he could say one thing and then act in the exact opposite manner.
How he kept on making her forget that this… all of this… was merely performative.
But in the end, she settled for civility even as her heart thudded inside her chest like an orchestra playing an encore.
“Of course. I shall find someone to converse with.” She said finally, hoping that she looked way more composed than she truly felt in that moment.
He hesitated for a moment, his green eyes searching her face. “If you need anything …”
“I’ll be perfectly fine,” she assured him, though her pulse jumped at the concern in his voice.
He is merely playing the part of a husband, she told herself. Do not get carried away.
She watched him disappear toward the library with Lord Tenwick and her Uncle William, leaving her somewhat adrift in the sea of silk and jewels. The conversations around her seemed to flow like water, touching on the usual topics of weather, fashion, and the latest on-dits.
“Your Grace! How absolutely divine you look this evening.”
Samantha turned to find herself facing Lady Cromwell, flanked by Lady Helen and Lady Pennington—three women whose reputations for gossip preceded them into every drawing room in London.
“Lady Cromwell,” Samantha replied carefully, inclining her head with polite reserve. “How kind of you to say so.”
“We simply had to congratulate you on your recent nuptials,” Lady Helen gushed, her smile sharp as a blade. “Such a romantic whirlwind, wasn’t it? Though I suppose when the Duke of Valemont finally sets aside his… roguish ways and sets his sights on a lady, resistance is quite futile.”
“His Grace is indeed persuasive,” Samantha replied, deciding to choose her words carefully.
She could see, from a mile away, that these women were merely sharks sniffing after blood, and she would only get tongues wagging tonight should she say anything remotely wrong.
“Oh, my dear, you’re positively glowing,” Lady Pennington added with false sweetness. “Though I must say, it takes tremendous strength of character to attend social events after… well, after certain unfortunate circumstances.”
Samantha’s smile felt frozen on her face. “I’m afraid I don’t follow your meaning.”
“Oh, nothing too terrible,” Lady Cromwell said with mock sympathy, “but seeing Lord Comerford again after his rather… sudden departure from your life must be somewhat trying. Particularly with his new wife on his arm.”
The words felt like cold water doused right over her head, though she fought to keep her expression serene.
Lord Comerford? Adam ? He was here… at this party? With his… wife ?
Truthfully, Samantha wanted to turn around right in that instant and run away, but she also knew that showing any kind of reaction to these women in this moment would only add more fuel to the still smoldering embers of the scandal that birthed her wedding to Ewan.
And not only that but betraying any reaction now would only give the eager gossip mill of the ton the excuse they needed to vomit all over Ewan’s already questionable reputation as a rake.