Chapter Forty-Three

Samantha stormed down the path. God help anyone who might have gotten in her way. She climbed the steps to her rooms, and never looked back. When she reached her bedroom, her fury soared, muttering to herself as the unknown ramifications overwhelmed. Her feet paced the intricate woven carpet, back and forth, like a monstrous wild she-cat.

She spoke to the empty room, “I behaved like a common harlot this night. I would like to pummel him. There should have been no further compromises, and now I stand at the edge of my life. What have I done for this was not what I wanted.”

Tears flowed, and her sobs hurt her throat. She gulped and the knot twisted. Samantha sat at the vanity and looked at her tearstained face in the mirror. She spoke again to the emptiness and turned her face away. “Everything is spoiled. I no longer can be seduced by my illusions of magical and extraordinary love. My experience with Raven has made it impossible to be with any other man. I would always compare anyone else to him. My extraordinary Duke is gone. I hate him and his impossible arrogance. I hate myself as well. How can I ever redeem the happenings of this night in my eyes or his? Why do I still love him more than ever?”

As her rage abated, she gave a great deal of thought to all that she said to him. Dread flexed its horrific might. In his noble manner, he gave her time to consider his marriage proposal. Well, he could take that proposal and shove it up the proper orifice. Ultimatums would not work for her. There would be other prospects in the world. And that was the worst lie of all. She was his and always would be his, and his alone.

She looked about the room he had decorated just for her. It was then Samantha knew she wanted him no matter what. She’d never wanted to be a duchess. She just wanted to be loved completely for herself—by him.

And then a different type of fear showed its insidious face. What if there were consequences from their first night together? Then she would have to deal with it. She had a small fortune and could take herself and their child abroad. After all, she was a widow.

At the verge of emotional exhaustion, she remembered most of her assets were gifted to her brother. If there was a child of his seed within her, Raven would move heaven and earth to legitimize it. She remembered his exact words. I’d marry a she-devil to legitimize my heir.”

But what about me, Raven? Would it be a loveless marriage? No, I can’t go through that again. The tomblike quiet in the room deafened except for the tick-tock tick-tock of the sentinels of time in sequential harmony. Their pendulums swung back and forth without emotion and rationale—two sensations she now experienced. Most of all, she needed to sleep, but sleep would not come. Embarrassed by her behavior though she still justified her words and actions, Samantha tossed and turned most of the night.

She remembered he did get on his knees and apologize to her. What more did she expect from so proud and honorable a man? Her flesh quivered in a suffocating panic. Fear jolted her and beads of perspiration formed on her neck. Samantha no longer wanted to wage war on him in a battle she did not wish to win.

“I will never see him again. I set the rules, and now I have to play by them. Does any way exist for me to make this right again? Tomorrow? I’ll worry about it tomorrow. There’s always tomorrow.”

Behind her eyes was love. Behind her sad smile was sorrow. Behind her throat was a cracking knot.

Raven needed his displeasure to abate, so he tarried in his garden in the moonlight with the fragrance of the red Duchess roses that filled his lungs. Still angry, he realized the futility of his attempt to reason with her. More than a lover’s quarrel, it escalated into a disaster. His future life walked out on him, and he was helpless to stop her. So be it. The fates had spoken.

He rose from the bench, paced back and forth, muttering. Indeed Samantha could be too much. Her insolent behavior disturbed him. She’d never change. Perhaps it would be best to let her go. However, there existed the consequences of their first night together. If there were to be issue, could he trust the hellion to seek him out? Or would she be too damn proud? But if there were to be a child from their one night of passion, he’d move heaven and earth and find her. There was nowhere in the world she could hide that was beyond his reach.

Damnation.

The next morning, Raven went to his study and rang for Randall.

“You summoned, Your Grace?”

“Yes, I would like you to congratulate the entire staff for their conduct. All went well last evening, which allowed my guests to have a superb time. Take this purse and distribute the coin as you see fit and do be sure to take care of the farmers who assisted. The usual tea and candles should suffice, as well as the money. Inform Siegfreid we must still maintain our vigilance on dangers.”

He paused and touched the side of his face, his fingers rubbed one cheekbone. “I wish to see the master gardener at four this afternoon. See that he is available.”

“Yes, Your Grace. Will that be all?”

“No, most of the guests will leave today, and our normal routine will return. However, I would like you to remove the portrait of the duchess and provide a place of honor for it on the gallery wall. When I return from my ride, I would like to see it gone.”

Without the blink of an eyelash, Randall asked, “Shall I replace it with something else?”

“No, Randall, but I do wish the task completed before the house awakens.” He took his riding accessories and left his study, strode out the rear door and down to the stables. His black Arabian, Ruffian, awaited him. A wild ride in the cold air would help clear his mind and allow him time to think about his insolent lady.

Samantha might wage war, but he would win the battle, even if it killed him. And it just might. In his mind’s eye, he envisioned the stirring image of his naked lady with rolled up stockings and silk slippers, and him on his knees for her in such an ignoble position for a duke of the realm. He tasted bile. What more could she want of him? If she thought to make him suffer, she succeeded. Precious time wasted away. How much did he have left? The omens seemed not to favor him.

Things with the charter application delay concerned him. A foreboding of evil rained over him. Raven tasted the fear and scowled back at it. He rode across the bluff like a wild man while the wind careened around his jaw. The raw tension within dissipated, and he held the reins in tight command. Ruffian appeared to enjoy the fast pace. In complete control, Raven gave his horse a loose rein. An hour hurried by, and soon he slowed their pace to return. His mind cleared with the brisk wind’s invigorating power.

Raven returned to the manor house. He greeted everyone with reserved warmth, in perfect command of his senses. The Winston family partook of the English breakfast. The Ballantyne’s soon joined them, and so did Prince Nicholas, who looked rather well outfitted this morning in his riding gear.

“Ah, Raven,” he said as a servant poured coffee. “Have you been out already?”

“Yes. I needed the fresh air to clear my head. All that wine and brandy you know can muddle one. Will you ride also?”

“I thought it best to take a quick jaunt before I left. We have a long journey ahead of us. There are some estates that need my attention so if I could depart right after lunch, would that be sufficient?”

The Prince appeared in a jovial mood. So far the two of them were the only ones who conversed in polite courtesies.

“Lord Winston, when do you depart?” the Prince asked.

“Your Highness, I believe the ladies wish to leave right after breakfast. He addressed the duke. “We have an appointment on Friday, Your Grace, at Winston House.”

“Yes, there may be some news about our venture that we can discuss then. I will see you sometime after lunch.” Raven preferred not to meet at the clubs for fear of eavesdropped conversations.

It was Lady Minerva who thanked the duke for his hospitality. “Your Dowager Aunt Margaret and I spoke last night, Your Grace, and she would like to see us in London if you have no objection. Samantha and I would love to entertain her.”

Samantha gave her aunt a concerned and distant look.

“Of course, if my aunt wishes, I’d be pleased to have her reside in my town residence,” said the duke. “She does not get out much, and I’m sure she’d enjoy the Bond Street shops.” He addressed Samantha with measured politeness, “And you, Lady Samantha, what will you do when you return?”

With well-mannered words, she answered, “I have many letters to write and important items to accomplish about the Foundation, Your Grace.” She thanked him for his graciousness and looked away, and never cast her eyes on him again.

The Earl and Countess Ballantyne also indicated they would leave after breakfast. Raven’s voice was reserved, “Randall will let me know when you take your leave. We can make our final goodbyes. Ladies and gentlemen, it was our pleasure to have you here.”

Raven rose and asked the Prince to join him in the library and excused himself from his guests.

Samantha would not meet his eyes, but he wanted to memorize her as she was now, a silent Madonna whom he’d hurt. In return, she retaliated with cruel, harsh words. If it was simply a lover’s quarrel, he could accept the events, but unfortunately, it was so much more.

He left the room to return to his sacrosanct study. The time had come for strategic plans all around. Raven wasn’t sure about repentance for a foolish error in speech, but he did know his fiery lady might be surprised at the strong weapon he’d use when he got her back into his bed. He now planned as a general ready to do battle. Let the games begin. A smile crossed his face in contemplation.

Oh, Samantha, you have no idea what you have wrought.