Chapter Twenty-Two

Samantha twirled again and urged her aunt down the stairs. “We mustn’t be late. I wonder what happens to us if we are. Are we guillotined or sent to the dungeons?”

“The guillotines are a French custom—perhaps the dungeons? I’m not sure. This staff is anxious to accommodate. It’s nice to be so pampered. I believe you are right, Samantha. Let’s enjoy. Whatever happens will happen, but do promise me you will be wise.”

“I can’t promise that, Aunt Min. My heart will dictate. I so want happiness for all of us. Brandon is content with the fact that he will be allowed to enter the sacred circle. Do you know he purchased a quizzing glass? What about you and me? Well, you have pointed out time and time again, we are women. Oh, Aunt, what I have learned from you these past years is I want to be like you.”

Aunt Min grinned. “I do not think the world can handle two of us. This is your turn to shine.”

Samantha paused in thought, “My mind has been altered about independence, thanks to your counsel. Strength through a strong man can be a powerful ally.”

“I think you now get the connection, child. The power is often behind the throne. I recall you indicated you wanted to be beside the honorable man you love.”

“Do I love him, Aunt Min? I don’t know him well enough yet. He sets me afire. It’s hot and cold all at the same time. The portrait of his late wife in the drawing room is of a woman with extraordinary beauty. However, I can’t help but feel she could be someone acquainted with me, but that is absurd.”

Aunt Minerva shuddered and spoke, “That is because you are a replica of the lady, except for your hair and eyes. Child, I worry about you. Is it you or his late wife he wants? You can deal with another woman who is alive, like Lady Buxton, but you can’t compete with a dead, beloved wife. It can devastate.”

Lady Minerva followed her niece down the curved circular staircase to the drawing room where some people waited. The guests were the Earl of Ballantyne with his Countess and daughter, Lady Sue Ellen. Everyone chatted about the arrival of the fabled Prince Nicholas on the morrow.

The duke proceeded with courteous introductions to the earl and his family. He inquired if the rooms were adequate. They smiled their replies that everything was more than satisfactory “Lady Samantha, do you like your quarters?” Samantha gushed about the beauty of the colors and the ceiling that took her fancy. She tried not to be too effusive, but since she knew Raven designed the rooms for her, she was thrilled, and somehow she wanted him to know how much it pleased her.

The conversation passed back and forth when Winston entered the room resplendent in his new finery. She noted her brother held his quizzing glass.

She spoke to Raven in a whisper, out of earshot of the others. “My rooms are large, and I’m impressed with the lavatory. It feels decadent to soak in the tub and have warm water poured over me. It’s innovative, Your Grace.” Her eyes sent a hidden message. She wanted to tell him she wished he would be there to pour water over her. Perhaps he read the intent in her eyes?

****

Raven’s mind now envisioned a naked beauty languishing in the tub of warm water, her long hair afloat around her shoulders and breasts. He envied the water that embraced her body and wanted to bathe her in scented water and oils which he would personally hand rub with meticulous care over every inch of her porcelain body.

“I wonder if it could fit two people. Do you have an opinion?”

“Samantha, I would venture it’s a definite possibility. As a caution, they would have to stay close to one another. It would be an experiment of interest, wouldn’t it?” A smile crossed his face. “Would you like me to take measurements?”

“Of me or the tub, Your Grace?” Her eyes engaged his. “However, that will not be necessary. I have determined it would fit two consensual persons.”

She bestowed him with a sunny smile, walked toward her aunt and brother, and fanned herself. Visions of her against him in the tub, her back to his chest, danced in his head, the warm sultry water that poured down on them would not douse their ardor. He would wager she envisioned the same images he did and surmised he could be right when he observed Samantha flutter her fan a little harder to cool herself. Yes, he fisted his hands to control the urge he had to rush to her, take her upstairs, and soak her in the very tub where he would join her in wicked delight.

Randall came to announce the dinner service. All the guests entered the dining room and sat at the elegant classic table. To the duke’s right, Lady Samantha was seated. While he conversed with everyone, in a small whisper to Samantha, he said, “I do believe you are correct in your assessment that two can fit in that tub.” He saw her blush at his flirtation and relished her modest discomfort.

He enjoyed the opportunity to spend time with the woman who had caught his attention and so much wanted to be alone with her as a man—her man.

The music played by the trio soothed and convivial conversations abounded until the meal concluded. After dinner, the gentlemen retreated to the library for drinks, and the women ambled to the drawing room.

****

Samantha sat near the two dowagers who occupied a small divan. She held a book of poetry in her hands, but clearly, her attention was woolgathering elsewhere, conscious of the amiable chatter of the two dowagers sharing tidbits from the past about their late husbands, their children, and the current social activities. Bored with the book, Samantha arose and walked around the room to study the art and furniture.

“Minerva, a question I would ask of you?” Lady Margaret placed her teacup on a table.

“Your niece, Lady Samantha, is quite a beauty. Is there no one to whom she is attached?”

Minerva handed her teacup for a refill and commented her niece didn’t have any attachments. “She received some marriage offers but has refused them all. She is involved in the establishment of her charity.” Lady Minerva explained all about the Winston Foundation for Ladies.

“Quite admirable,” Lady Margaret said, “but most unusual.”

“I assure you, Margaret, where Samantha is concerned, everything is unusual.”

“Lady Margaret, my aunt is anxious to marry me off to some unfortunate man. I’m much too headstrong for I enjoy my independence. Besides, she brings joy to my life in all she does.”

Samantha motioned to the portrait above the mantel. “I believe that is the late duchess? The artist seems to have caught her vibrancy, yet there is an ephemeral look about her.”

“Raven loved her more than anyone can know. They married in Italy at the Italian court. He didn’t wish to wait for his return to England to have a large family wedding, although a reception followed afterward here. She delighted and loved him so much. When she died, it appeared the world came to an end for him.” She proceeded to tell the story of the woman’s death. “I believe he mourns her still in his heart.”

At the mention of his name, Samantha came to full attention and studied the portrait over the mantel.

Lady Margaret spoke of the funeral as a tragic and sad event in their family. “Everyone wore white with black armbands. My nephew provided his staff with mourning garments of white, and they grieved for a year also. As you know, that is the de rigueur for a woman who dies in childbirth. My nephew is a strong man, but I don’t know how he got through the day of burial. As he laid the black beribboned white calla lilies on the caskets, I saw him unsteady at the final sight of the two white coffins, one larger and one much smaller.” Lady Margaret added, “It made the angels cry.”

She recounted those days. Lady Margaret added that with the advent of time, he immersed himself into his business and political affairs, and managed to move on with his life.

“You liked her?” Minerva inquired and sipped her cinnamon tea.

“Yes, Liana’s manner invited friendship, and was open to love in return.”

Samantha continued to listen from a distance. She could not help admire Raven’s personal strength to endure such a tragedy.

Minerva commented the portrait was a powerful reminder.

“Yes, I know. I have told my nephew he should remove it to the gallery where all our forbearers are, but Raven has refused to do so. When I see it removed, I will know he has come to terms with her loss ten years ago. Until then, Minerva, I can hope. Life is for those of us who live and are left behind.” Her smile saddened.

Lady Minerva nodded her head in agreement. “I’m fond of my niece. She is a high-spirited, intelligent person and can be hurt. Somehow I think, Lady Margaret, Raven has not quite moved on with his life. He has not yet let go of the past, it seems.”

“You are right, but maybe things will change. I’m fond of my nephew, also.” Lady Margaret deftly changed the subject.