Page 29 of The Spinster and Her Rakish Duke (The Athena Society #3)
The enthusiastic cry shattered the intimate moment as Percy burst through the front doors, his arms laden with parcels and his face alight with boyish excitement.
Behind him came Marquess Tenwick, wearing an expression of fond exasperation that Samantha was coming to recognize as his habitual response to Percy’s antics.
“Percy!” Samantha exclaimed, stepping forward to greet him. “We didn’t expect you until midday.”
“We made excellent time,” the young viscount explained, depositing his bundles unceremoniously on a nearby table.
“I was simply too eager to return! London is splendid, of course, but I found myself positively yearning for the tranquility of Valemont. The air here is so much more conducive to poetic contemplation, don’t you think? ”
Ewan exchanged a glance with Lord Tenwick, who rolled his eyes discreetly. “I trust Ralph kept you out of trouble?” he asked, clapping his friend on the shoulder.
“Barely,” Tenwick replied dryly, that one word laden with all the exasperation of too many days crammed into it. “He has entertained the ton years ahead, if that is even possible.”
Samantha bit her lip to suppress a laugh as Ewan pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture she’d come to associate with his mounting exasperation.
“Percy,” he began in that carefully measured tone that suggested he was counting backwards from ten in his mind, “what have we discussed about public performances?”
“That they’re best left to trained actors and not young viscounts with aspirations to the dukedom,” Percy recited dutifully, though his eyes retained their irrepressible sparkle.
“But Uncle, you must understand—inspiration strikes at the most inopportune moments! What is a poet to do when the muse descends?”
“Resist,” Ewan said firmly.
“Oh, come now,” Samantha interjected, taking pity on the young man’s crestfallen expression.
“Surely there’s no harm in a bit of enthusiasm, provided it’s appropriately channeled.
” She turned to Percy with a conspiratorial smile.
“Perhaps you might read some of your latest work for us after dinner? In the privacy of the drawing room, where no punch bowls are at risk.”
Percy’s face brightened immediately. “Oh, would you truly wish to hear it, Aunt Samantha? I’ve composed a new sonnet cycle about the changing seasons that I believe represents a significant evolution in my artistic voice.”
“I would be delighted,” she assured him, ignoring the way Ewan’s eyebrows rose in silent horror beside her.
“Splendid! I shall prepare immediately.” Percy grabbed his parcels and bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time in his excitement.
The three of them watched him go, and Samantha caught her husband’s tired sigh.
“I can scarce imagine what lady would accept his offer of marriage in the near future.” He said, and Tenwick laughed.
Samantha huffed. “Oh, do not say that, Ewan.” She put her hands on her hips. “Percy certainly does have charm about him.”
At her words, her husband quirked a brow in her direction. “You have come a long way, have you not, my duchess?” He said, and her eyes narrowed.
“How so?” She asked him and he let out a small, breathy laugh.
“I can still vividly remember how annoyed you were at him the first moment you met.” He said, and Samantha sputtered out in affront. She very well knew that she could not argue with him, but …
“He has grown on me, I tell you.” She said, and Ewan’s laugh melted into a soft smile.
“As I see.” He replied.
Lord Tenwick cleared his throat then, and Samantha remembered that she was, in fact, not alone with her husband. Her cheeks warmed, as she turned her attention on the Marquess.
“Lord Tenwick,” she began, her face suffusing into a warm smile, “I thank you for watching over Percy these past few weeks, really.”
The Marquess bowed. “Oh, it is my pleasure to do so,” he said, amusement rife in his tone as he finished with, “He does make my evenings rather lively, after all.”
Samantha pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh. It would simply not do to encourage them like this.
“Still, will you not stay for dinner, my lord?” She asked him and saw the moment his eyes flicked toward her husband whose arm soon encircled around her waist. Samantha couldn’t help the slight widening of her eyes at his sudden display of affection.
To which Lord Tenwick grinned, amusement now fully dancing in his eyes. “Thank you for extending such hospitality, Your Grace,” he said, already taking a step back, “but I would like to go get cleaned up from the travel. I will see you both some other time, perhaps.”
Samantha, with cheeks now warming rapidly, merely nodded. “Of course, my lord.” She said, and that only made the Marquess chuckle; a reaction to which she had no understanding.
It was only when he had fully retreated, and she heard the sounds of his carriage rolling away that she turned to look at her husband and met his stormy green eyes boring holes into her face.
“What is it?” She asked him then, her heart pattering in her chest at the intensity of his gaze.
“ Your Lord , is he?” He said, gruffly, his arms tightening around her waist.