Chapter Forty

Ravensmere Estate

Raven met with his majordomo, Randall, and was assured the manor house’s staff was prepared for the country ball. Over one hundred of Raven’s local gentry and head stewards would attend—the first time in years they hosted non-family occasions. Also, the added task of surveillance held their attention to the formidable endeavor.

Raven’s servant laid out his evening attire and attended to his needs while he hovered over his master like a mother hen. Raven looked at himself in the mirror; he approved of the picture presented. He eschewed black attire for the country ball. Instead, he wore a coat of dark blue polished satin with a waistcoat edged in silver lace embroidered with the ducal crest. White satin knee britches hugged his thighs, matching silk stockings, and of course, his kid leather shoes. A ribbon of the same satin confined his dark wavy hair at the nape. A sapphire neck pin glittered in the reflection of candlelight nestled in the ruffles at his throat while a large diamond ring adorned his right hand.

“Your Grace, you are resplendent indeed.”

“My London tailor did well by me.” He smiled in satisfaction. “It’s not necessarily country ball attire, but it does signify a change. The past is over. A new era begins at Ravensmere, and it’s all because of a particular lady.”

****

“Can you cut hair?” Samantha asked her housemaid, Diandra.

“Yes, my cousin in London attends to all the fashionable ladies and has taught me his skill. You have such beautiful long hair, are you sure you wish it shorn?” Her fingers moved through Samantha’s long tresses.

Samantha waged war on Raven. The first sortie would be to change her hairstyle so that she didn’t resemble the late duchess. “If you can be quick about it, I want the back cut so it just reaches my neck, and I want the sides short, yet long enough to hold my curls.”

When Diandra finished, the effect looked exceptional. Her natural ringlets fluffed at the sides and fell around her face with the top still long enough to hold her hair brooches. The maid weaved a ribbon through the waves at the top.

“Excellent, you are quite good at this. I’m most pleased.” She arose from the vanity, “Will you fetch my gown?”

“Which one, my lady?” she asked.

“Didn’t the duke send up a gown for me?” She went to her armoire and couldn’t find it. Did he change his mind? Was this a bad omen?

“Yes, but I believe your aunt removed it.”

“I will take my dressing gown.” The maid handed it to her. Samantha cinched it around her waist and went to her aunt’s room.

“Aunt Min, it’s Samantha. May I come in?”

“Yes, my dear, I’m almost finished.” Lady Minerva stood up and straightened her back.

“You look beautiful, Aunt Min. The blue color suits well with your dark hair. Do you have my dress here?”

“Yes, I do, but you will not wear it tonight,” she said in an imperial tone.

Samantha walked over to her aunt. “Why not?”

“Because it’s inappropriate at this time. I so informed Raven in private that such a gown would signify an attachment. Since he has not asked for any, you can’t wear his gift. I believe I said I would save it for your betrothal.”

She waved Samantha to sit down. “Trust me in this, child. You may be upset, but this is for your good. He wants to proclaim to all that you are his. There are respectable ways to do that. All he has to do is ask for your hand in marriage.”

Samantha asked incredulously, “Suppose I don’t wish to marry him?” Her foot twitched in response, and she became angrier by the minute.

“Of course you wish to marry him. You are besotted. I’m here to protect you from your fantasy notions and to make sure that you don’t make a fool of yourself and your family.”

She helped Samantha rise and propelled her toward her suite where Diandra waited. From the armoire, her aunt picked a dark gray silk gown with a dark blue-green iridescent shimmer made in the latest empire style and handed it to the maid. “Also wear your emeralds. Whatever did you do to your hair? I believe I like it. Quite different from anything I’ve seen.”

While Samantha finished, Lady Minerva whispered sotto voce, “You can tell him the color of your dress matches his eyes.” She proceeded to leave the room, and said over her shoulder, “I will wait for you on the landing.”

So much for independence and high spirits—Samantha was a widow and still followed orders like a child. She didn’t want this night spoiled, and so far disappointments increased, the painting of the duchess still hung in honor over the fireplace and Samantha’s purloined gown. When she calmed down, she turned herself around to view every angle. Yes, the dress looked quite beautiful, but most of all, she liked her short hair. What would Raven think? She joined her aunt in silence.

Her brother awaited them at the bottom landing, and all three joined the line to present themselves with formality to the Dowager and Raven. When she saw him, her heart turned a somersault and leaped at least twice. A more handsome man she didn’t see, regal and so superior.

She greeted Lady Margaret and curtsied.

“Lady Samantha, you look beautiful, as usual. I look forward to this evening.” The dowager’s smile beamed.

“Oh, yes, Your Grace, it holds great promise.”

“And your new hairstyle will change fashion, I’m sure.”

Samantha proceeded to Raven. Since she curtsied very low in a deliberate tease, he had little choice but to gaze at her breasts. When she rose, her eyes held his. She winked.

“Lady Samantha, you are beautiful, but that’s not a surprise.” He kissed her gloved hand with fervent lips. “The color suits you and your emeralds well.”

“My aunt has excellent taste, although I might have preferred to wear something else for you. Aunt Min instructed me to tell you this gray shimmer of a color matches your eyes.”

He held her hand yet another moment and whispered, “The first and last waltz?”

“As you wish, Your Grace,” said with a gracious but provocative smile.

Raven’s gaze, after last night, took good note of the woman who swayed from him. How well he knew those curved hips. Her weapons were lethal.

As the guests arrived, they waited in line to greet their patron. It would be a splendid night, and Raven looked forward to receiving all his gentry. He now recognized the need for seclusion no longer existed. He welcomed the thought. Food, champagne, and wines presented temptations. And of course, amour.

His Aunt Margaret questioned, “It’s time, nephew. The tenants need to know you are ready to live your life. They revere you because you are a good patron.”

“I know you’re right, Aunt. I’m having serious thoughts about Samantha.”

“Nothing could make me happier. After this endless receiving line dissipates, could you see to Lady Samantha? Raven, can you now remove the portrait? If it were me, I’d be upset. I do believe it’s an impediment to your relationship with the lady.”

“I think it’s time, Aunt. Thank you for always being there for me. I love you, Auntie.”

She became flustered. “Oh, my, this is the first time you ever said that to me in your adulthood. You called me Auntie the way you used to as a boy. I’ve not heard you say you loved me in a long time either.”

“Then I have been remiss. I’m a happy man tonight and may need your assistance. I don’t know if Samantha will marry me. She has endured more than her share of tragedies, Aunt.”

“I will help you, but first be sure she is the woman you want. I don’t want to incur Lady Minerva’s wrath at this old age.”

He laughed, and soon the reception line dwindled.

Samantha appeared quite engaged with Prince Nicholas and her brother. Raven walked toward them.

“Your Grace,” Samantha curtsied. “This is one of the most memorable moments of my life.”

Raven lowered his voice so no one else could hear. “Because of me or because of Prince Nicholas?” The realization hit him too late. He shouldn’t have asked such an unfair question.

Samantha’s light mood changed and she walked away out of sorts. “You do me an injustice.”

How dare he? Why was it always a battle with him? He ran hot and cold. What about the gracious gestures, fantastic bed sport, and then the battle of wits? In between, accusations, insinuations, and long, slow kisses that spiced their relationship and made her want more of the same.

Samantha looked for her aunt and could not find her. In her search, Prince Nicholas caught her attention. She didn’t need him either and turned her head away. It was too late because he came to her side.

“You look disturbed. Has something happened?” His tone was solicitous. Samantha took a good hard look at him in his dress uniform of cerulean blue with gold braiding and gold-fringed epaulets. “I’m fine, Highness. I seek my aunt, but can’t seem to locate her in this crowd.” Her eyes continued to peer as she directed her gaze in all directions. She didn’t find her aunt, but she found Raven with a scowl on his face. She scrunched up her nose and glared back. He smiled back at her.

The Dowager Aunt Margaret came up to them and whispered, “Highness, I would like to introduce Lady Samantha to some of our friends. May I steal her away from you?”

Prince Nicholas bowed. “Of course. Lady Samantha, save one of the dances for me?”

“Yes, Highness, but the first and last waltzes are promised to His Grace.”

He feigned disappointment. “Then the dance after the first waltz will be mine. Thank you.” He walked away straight as an arrow aimed at a pub target board.

With Lady Samantha in tow, Lady Margaret introduced her to many of the local gentries, and managed to partner her once again with her nephew.

“Thank you, Aunt.” He ushered Samantha to the balcony. “I need a breath of fresh air. I forgot how long reception lines could be. Darned nuisance, if you ask me. Especially because it takes me away from you. I do not appreciate your flirtations.”

Samantha snapped her fan shut.

It might have well been a jolt of lightning and then a thunderclap aimed at Raven.