Chapter 11
Mid-march arrived with a flurry of activity. Added sunshine interspersed with bouts of rain helped flowers bloom in every London park and square. Daffodils, tulips, hyacinths, and crocuses added cheerful splashes of color to an otherwise dull cityscape.
Samantha savored it. Especially when she went for her daily walks with Adrian. Or with Murry when Adrian had other matters to tend to. Optimism permeated the air now, instilling in her a happy contentedness that made each day seem brighter than the last.
A sentiment that was likely accentuated by her impending motherhood. Doctor Wolf’s positive reassurance regarding her quickening helped as well by easing her mind.
Hand resting on her rounded belly, she smiled at her own reflection as she stood before the bedchamber mirror.
Lilac silk hugged her torso before cascading toward the floor in voluminous folds.
With the current high-wasted fashion, the changes in her body, while visible, were not yet too apparent. Unless she sat.
Her smile widened on that thought.
“What’s so amusing?” Adrian asked as he came up behind her and drew her back into his solid frame. His lips brushed her temple.
“I was just thinking that you may have to help me put on my stockings soon, as I won’t be able to reach my feet.”
Another kiss found the side of her neck. “I’m guessing that means I’ll have to help you remove them as well?”
She chuckled in response to his teasing tone, even as her blood heated beneath his touch. Because underneath the surface, she knew he was being completely serious.
As though to clarify this, he suggested, “Perhaps I can try my hand at it now.”
One hand was already sliding over her hip, pulling her more securely against him. Showing her where this would lead if she let him have his way.
She sighed. As much as she’d love to surrender, they really ought to get going. “It took me over an hour to dress, so the next time this gown comes off, it’s staying off.”
Adrian caught her skirts with his hands, began dragging them upward with shameless intent. “Whoever said anything about undressing?”
The look he gave her in the mirror was positively devilish. As the scoundrel no doubt expected, it instantly made her long for the intimate touch he promised. But where would that leave them?
She swatted his hands away and stepped out of his arms, then turned to face him. Lord have mercy, the man oozed sin, his dark gaze scorching her skin in ways that—
She squared her shoulders and cleared her throat. “We’re already horribly late and I’ll not have you rumple this gown or ruin my hair. Emma worked very hard on it.”
He sighed, arms sweeping outward before returning to his sides. “It’s just another ball.”
“It’s the first ball, Adrian. Of the Season. I’d like to attend, to dance with you and enjoy a good evening. See people we’ve not seen in months. Especially as the time of birth approaches more rapidly. There’s a chance I won’t be able to waltz soon — that I’ll be reduced to an oversized slug.”
He tipped back his head and laughed.
She scrunched her nose in response. “I’m glad you’re amused.”
His palm scrubbed his face, pinched the bridge of his nose, before he looked straight at her. A placating look erased most of his humor, though his eyes still twinkled. “Slug or not, I’ll still want to bed you.”
“That’s disgusting.”
He shrugged, sent her a lopsided grin, and waggled his brows. “Seems you have a certain effect.”
She rolled her eyes but allowed an answering hint of mischief as she snatched up her shawl and crossed to the door, all the while directing a pointed look toward the proof of his desire.
“We’ll take care of that later, I promise.
In front of that mirror if you choose. Or in the carriage on the way home.
Or perhaps even in the Moorland garden, if you’d like to be more risqué. So many possibilities, Adrian…”
The dumbfounded look on his face as she pulled the door open and stepped into the hallway was utterly priceless. Grinning, she started toward the stairs.
“I’ll have you moaning my name before the clock strikes twelve,” he shouted, causing Elks, who stood at the foot of the stairs, to cough and avert his gaze.
Samantha’s cheeks burned as she continued to make her descent, yet there was no getting rid of her smile. Two things were certain regarding her marriage. It was never boring and it never lacked passion.
* * *
Keith Orwell found it nearly impossible to concentrate on the conversation carrying on around him even though he knew it to be important for Luxury Imports, the family business.
One of the main reasons he and his father had come to Moorland House this evening.
Papa’s successful procurement of cocoa, spices, and fine tobacco, had not only enriched him, but ensured his invitation to numerous London events.
This was one such event — the first ball of the Season.
Keith had attended a few such festivities last year after Papa made it clear it was time for Keith to become more involved in Luxury Imports. None had made an impact on Keith back then. But now…
He stared at the woman who’d just been announced while doing his best to ignore the man at her side. The Duke of Wrengate would likely take issue with any interest Keith showed in his sister.
Lady Edwina. That was the name the butler had used.
Keith drank in her stunning appearance. Her oval face was adorned by a delicately shaped nose, full lips, and dark blue eyes fringed by long lashes. A thick mass of rich auburn locks were piled into a loose updo, allowing soft tendrils to frame her face.
To further accentuate her beauty, her sage-green gown hugged her curves in a way that sent Keith’s pulse racing.
This was no slender debutante, but rather a full-bodied woman worthy of exploration.
He knew he was likely gawking, yet he could not avert his gaze. And then…
Lady Edwina’s azure blue eyes met his and it was as though the earth paused its rotation. Keith’s breath caught in his throat. His heart tripped with uneven beats that sent his soul soaring when he was rewarded with a shy smile.
That was all there was time for before Wrengate steered his sister toward the other end of the ballroom, effectively ending the brief connection Keith had found with her.
“Don’t you agree?” Papa inquired.
Keith blinked. He’d no clue what his father refereed to, yet he nodded so as not to embarrass either of them. “Of course.”
“Then it’s settled,” the Earl of Glendale remarked, leaving Keith to figure out what the hell he’d just missed. A challenge, when his thoughts continued returning to Lady Edwina.
If only he knew someone who could make the introduction. If only the Duke of Wrengate weren’t her brother.
Keith had no desire to make an enemy of the man by showing an interest in his sister. No doubt Wrengate would not approve of her associating with a tradesman for any reason. A problem that would be hard to fix since Keith could do nothing about his parentage.
Unhappy with this awareness, Keith excused himself from the conversation with Glendale as soon as he was able, and went in search of a drink.
He was almost at the refreshment table when he became aware of Lady Edwina’s approach.
Another woman accompanied her. Miss Violet Greene, whom Keith had once danced with.
Mouth dry, he waited to see where the pair might be headed, shock heating the back of his neck when they stopped before him. Lady Edwina’s cheeks were a bright shade of pink, though she was even more striking up close.
Keith stared at her and she stared back. His heart pounded with equal parts uncertainty and expectation.
“Mr. Orwell, good evening,” said Miss Green. She turned to her companion.
“Lady Edwina, may I present Mr. Keith Orwell?” she asked. “Mr. Orwell, Lady Edwina is the Duke of Wrengate’s sister.”
“I…um…” Good God, the words stuck in his throat, but he finally managed to sketch a short bow and say, “It’s an absolute pleasure.”
He’d never felt like more of an imbecile. Miss Greene’s low chuckle suggested he’d come across as one too. When no one else uttered a word she finally huffed a breath and quietly suggested to him, “This is where you invite her to dance.”
Right. Of course.
“My lady. I’d be delighted, honored, that is, if you’d partner with me in a quadrille or minuet or maybe even a…um…do you have a dance card by any chance?”
Relief appeared to soften Lady Edwina’s features. “Yes. It’s right here.”
Keith took the card along with the pencil she offered and saw that all the sets remained open. He could have his pick, but did he dare to write his name next to the dance he truly wanted?
To hell with it, he decided, and claimed the first waltz of the evening.