Chapter Three

Raven guided Samantha through the crowded ballroom.

“It appears fate has thrown us together. I wonder whatever for?” Samantha asked.

“Perhaps it is destiny that predetermined we meet again and, to my pleasure, so soon.” A smile curled his lips.

“It could also be the heavens,” she added. “Do you believe in the stars, Your Grace?”

“My late wife not only believed in them, but she also tinkered with astrology.”

“I’m sorry to hear that she passed. Has it been long?”

“Over ten years now,” he said, solemn. “Perhaps it’s best to change the subject away from death and ill-fated stars. Do you attend many balls?”

She nodded. “I attend some, but I do confess Your Grace, I’d rather be in the country where I can act with freedom. However, I’m here with my Dowager Countess Aunt Minerva for a short part of the season. We are sponsors for a special charity event. I’m not sure if you are aware, but Almack’s supports this effort. It’s near and dear to me.”

“What charity might that be, Lady Winston?”

“It benefits orphan girls, Your Grace. There aren’t many opportunities afforded women who are not born of the nobility, and these are young women of good character and virtue.”

Raven caught her diverted gaze.

My foundation assists in the education of such ladies. We try to find positions for them so they can enter society with pride, even though they enjoy no real male protection. The alternative for them would be unspeakable.”

“Indeed,” he said. The alternative, prostitution, was not mentioned in polite society. “Admirable.” He nodded while he studied her demeanor. “What have you called this foundation?” he asked, not out of curiosity, but with a desire to continue the conversation. All the while he assessed her pleasant manner and the fervor of her cause.

“It’s known as The Winston Foundation for Ladies. We don’t wish to call attention to their station in life as orphans and wards of the state and prefer to give them the self-esteem of an education, and, perhaps, the ability to seek good marriages. As the Foundation increases its funds, we might be able to provide small dowrys.”

“How many of these ladies have you helped, Lady Winston?”

“Since the foundation is rather new, we have secured good positions for five women.” She smiled as she placed the ratafia glass on the table.

He nodded. “I note you have retained your maiden name. Why so?”

“I preferred it after my short marriage.” She lowered her lashes.

Raven found it difficult to keep his eyes from the unique woman, so different from other young ladies of the ton. Her exuberance and vitality appealed to him. It could also be the short time he spent in her carriage where he enjoyed the prolonged memorable kiss.

“Lady Samantha, you continue to intrigue me.” He squared his shoulders, and they might have been sentinels on guard. “I wonder what possessed you to start this Foundation.”

“One day when you have time, I will tell you, but not tonight. It’s a sad story.”

“I do take it that your family supports you in this idea?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” She spoke in a confident manner. “I’m the most fortunate of women in a man’s world.” He noted her eyes flashed in response. “Do you think it an uncommon pursuit for a woman?”

“I think it’s an unusual one,” he stated in all truth. He liked the tinkle in her laugh.

“Your Grace, I have been told that I’m too advanced and high-spirited for these times, but I’m passionate about this cause. I’m also blessed my family allows me the independence to officiate the Foundation. My brother, Lord Winston, is solicitous of me, so is my Countess Aunt. Ours is a universal cause, but perhaps that, too, is another conversation.”

“Then it is something to which I look forward. I see your brother and your aunt. Allow me to return you to your family. I have monopolized your time.” He extended his arm, which she accepted.

“Thank you. I enjoyed our exchange.”

They walked in leisure to her brother. After a few words, Samantha joined her aunt and the other ladies.

Winston said, “Your Grace, my sister is quite an enchantress. She is a woman of great intensity with an inquisitive mind.”

“If you asked me to think of one word to describe her, that word would be vivacious.” Raven paused. “I find her intelligence refreshing. She seems to bring gaiety wherever she goes. It’s a pleasant combination and novelty.” His mind raced in remembrance of his late wife.

“Samantha’s marriage to the second son of the Earl of Foxton shortened when he became involved with a footpad who killed him when he left his club. These streets of London harbor felons. She’s been a widow for three years, and everyone believed they were besotted with each other. Two weeks is not long to be married and then widowed.”

“It’s a sad state of affairs,” Raven’s thoughts turned somersaults. Her simple presence and his reaction to her became an enigma. He needed to take control of himself. Now, at least, he could understand the rationale of her conversation and her need for a cause. Wrenched from her, the death of Foxton must have caused unbearable grief. “I do understand how the loss of a loved one brings the vagaries of life to maturity. Unhappiness and its twin, sorrow, can cause one to champion issues. I know this too well.” They shared that common bond, he and Samantha. Could it also contribute to part of the allure?

His mind drew back into the present. “It’s difficult to believe your sister is unattached.” Raven fingered his quizzing glass, a well-known trait of his when he was deep in thought.

“She has refused quite a few offers. I desire my sister’s happiness. I won’t force her into a marriage not of her choice.”

Raven assessed the tall man. He sought men of the nobility who desired to learn and make a difference to England and the world. No scandal blemished this young man’s reputation.

“I have enjoyed our talk, Winston. If you are at White’s Club or the Royal’s, do look me up.” Raven handed him his card. “I would like to get to know you better,” he said sotto voce. “I now recognize that you are a member of the Agricultural Committee which I head, but it would be of interest to me to know you and your family on a more familiar basis. There are many tasks to be assigned, and I would ask for your assistance if this is of consequence to you.”

Winston answered, “I’d consider it an honor, Your Grace.”

Raven returned his monocle to his pocket. “I also am in the midst of the formation of a cartel in which you may wish to participate. We could speak of the details at another time.”

“Thank you, I look forward to the opportunity.” His neophyte’s eager voice reminded him of his youthfulness.

Raven could have his pick of wealthy and titled nobles to invite to join the cartel. Why did he now decide to extend an invitation to this young man? There were many suitable answers. Lord Winston was a protégé on one of his committees, so he was duty-bound to take the man under his wing. The duke questioned his behavior but admitted the copper-haired angel aroused his interest.

Raven summed up the lady’s wit, charm, intelligence, and a spirit other men might fear because of her outspokenness. On the contrary, it attracted him like the siren’s call to a sailor. Some men wanted simple-minded women who didn’t care for involvement in national and world issues. He found it to be an aphrodisiac, a bewitchment to say the least. He no longer feigned his attraction.

His late wife, a countess of the Italian court, could converse on any subject at any time. It lent joy to their relationship. She fascinated his mind as well as his body. Since her death, though, the memories faded and didn’t sustain him in his physical world. He’d allowed loneliness and sadness to invade his life.

He had a mistress to fulfill his needs, but even though he just returned from the continent, he held no desire to visit the woman. Perhaps all this was a sign of changes to be made to his ordinary routine. While his regimen used to comfort him, it now made him uneasy.

Raven admitted a fascination to the green-eyed goddess. He took the measure of the man who now danced with her. It was so unlike him to experience possessiveness. The clench in his stomach clawed at him like the underbelly of a dangerous snake. Of a sudden, he found he wanted to kiss her again and get lost in her mystical eyes for a lifetime. Somehow every fiber of his being told him this woman would play a significant part in his life. He was ready to face the future if she were in it.

Raven left the room and walked through the reception area to the outdoor balcony. He sat on a cement bench, his back against the block wall, his mind a whirl. He raised his right hand to his chin in deep thought, listening to the music of night critters.

****

Samantha’s curiosity intensified; it was colored by the powerful emotions Ravensmere evoked walking through the crowd. Heads turned. Conversations stilled. With guarded eyes, she observed as the women stared at him, and perhaps coveted what they saw. How dare they?

Her mind returned to their first kiss, and how he’d managed to ignite her. Her typical arctic freeze never showed its iceberg head. In her engagement and brief marriage, Samantha came to a conclusion she didn’t know how to pucker lips well. Percival’s quite forgettable kisses she likened to brotherliness, so she didn’t know how to respond in any suitable way. It seemed the duke thought their kiss memorable.

“You appeared to have quite a conversation with His Grace,” her brother teased. “It’s rare for him to speak to anyone.” His voice lowered, and he whispered, “He is considered a bit high in the instep, you know.”

Samantha’s smile held a different purpose. Everything about Ravensmere fascinated her.

She couldn’t understand how his simple touch made her feel all liquid and heated, an unusual circumstance. She guessed him to be a bit older than she, perhaps in his early forties, but he carried himself with an air of aristocratic splendor. Ah, he held the weight of the world on his shoulders—a man who could be a charmer when he wanted, but also firm and resolute—a man who took good care of his people. He deserved a princess of the realm.

Her deep need for an exceptional love fueled her dreams. This magical lover would appreciate her intellect. Ah, imaginings, she sighed. If only such a man existed.

She again caught sight of her Aunt Min. “I’ve found you,” Samantha smiled at this beloved and treasured lady.

“I haven’t been lost. My dear, I see you have attracted a powerful admirer.” She touched her niece’s cheek with tenderness.

“By chance do you speak of His Grace, Duke of Ravensmere?” Samantha asked with coyness, happy to play this trivial game.

“Yes, child, you know to whom I refer. Does the man appeal to you?”

“I’m not sure at this moment. I’ve read about his vast holdings and efforts to industrialize the farms of his tenants. Brandon has said he is a person worthy of note as he attempts to convince other nobles of the need to secure England’s future. He quite challenges me.”

She smiled at the memory of their conversation. As a Member of Parliament and a true influential leader of men, he could do much to elevate her brother’s status—and, perhaps, her charity foundation.

“Samantha, you have a quick, sharp mind and the ability to allow your daydreams to run amok into the world you create.” She took her niece aside. “You always dream of a fantasy love.”

“I know this love exists somewhere, Aunt Min, yet I erect a façade around myself on purpose to frighten off the less hardy suitors. Any man who could scale my walls would be a person of interest to me, and my magical lover will appreciate my intellect and use it and me as strength.”

Her aunt patiently listened. “You expect too much from a mere man, my dear. Ravensmere is considered a most eligible bachelor now that he has returned from the continent. Lady Cowpur of Almacks mentioned him to me the other day. All the maidens’ mothers are anxious to introduce him to their daughters,” Lady Minerva commented as a matter of fact.

“Lady Cowpur, you say? I pity the poor man for the barrage of invitations he will receive. I’m glad to be on the shelf.” Her fan whisked. To be placed on display and engage in inane conversations bored her. She couldn’t help but compare its similarity to a meat market where the best cuts became available to the highest bidder. Well, she was not for sale to anyone.

The word was his revolutionary concepts propelled him as a man ahead of the times. There were those who said he ruled with a rigid discipline. It also appeared he didn’t smile much. What a pity. His lips were perfect when he did. Again, she returned to the fascination of his sensual lips and relived her experience with Ravensmere in her brother’s carriage. Just one kiss made her yearn for more. Oh dear, how ignoble. It was just a kiss and meant nothing. If she could just convince herself of that fact, it’d be better for them both.

It meant nothing to him. Yes, Samantha would forget about it all. Such a man was not for her. Not for her at all. She removed him from her mental list. Then she laughed at herself. The list did not hold too many names, and if the truth were known, he was the one and only name on the unwritten list.