Chapter 13
The worst part about ballrooms, Samantha decided, was the heat.
Even during winter, the number of people crowded inside made it near unbearable.
Or maybe she was more prone to feeling overheated due to her current condition.
She glanced toward the French doors. Despite the cold she knew she’d find on the terrace, it might be a welcome reprieve.
Later. After she’d parted ways with Lady Edwina.
She sent her companion a sidelong glance. “You weren’t in London last Season.”
“I’ve not been in London for any Season,” Lady Edwina replied.
She caught Samantha’s gaze, revealing a touch of melancholy that hadn’t been there before.
“My sister has been unwell for a number of years. The gradual weakening of her muscles makes it increasingly difficult for her to walk. Enjoying a debut when she was unable to have one felt wrong. I’d not have come this year either had she not insisted. ”
“I’m sorry to hear of her illness. Is there nothing the doctors can do to help her?”
“It seems not.” A sad smile followed the statement. “My brother, Wrengate, that is, ensured she was given multiple opinions. Unfortunately, it appears to have been money wasted though he’ll argue that point. There’s nothing he would not do for either of us.”
Samantha said nothing to this. It was curious to learn that the man she loathed above all others might have a heart after all. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that. The last thing she wanted, considering what he might have done, was to sympathize with him.
Something Lady Edwina had said, however, or rather the way in which she’d said it, stood out.
Recalling what Lady Moorland had told her some months before with regard to Wrengate’s siblings, Samantha decided this was a good chance to probe a bit deeper.
“It sounded as though you felt the need to clarify which of your brothers you were referencing just now. I gather you have more than one?”
“There’s also Lord Ryan. He’s two years younger than Wrengate and three years my senior.
Unfortunately, we’ve not heard from him in a number of years.
Not since our parents died.” Lady Edwina stepped slightly closer to Samantha’s side in order to better pass behind a group of young ladies who’d likely made their debuts the previous year.
“What of your family, Mrs. Croft? Have you any brothers or sisters?”
Samantha gave her head a swift shake and told her new friend all she needed to know, about being raised in an orphanage, how the Harlowes had brought her and four other girls to their home.
She repeated the tale about making a wish to attend a ball last year for her birthday and how this had led to her meeting Adrian.
“Your story is extraordinarily romantic,” Lady Edwina remarked when Samantha finished relaying a few vague details surrounding her marriage.
If only the lady knew of the ups and downs Samantha and Adrian had endured. How often their lives had been endangered since they’d first met. She’d gotten shot while he’d been stabbed. Disaster could easily have turned tragic when he’d been arrested, charged with murder, and sentenced to hang.
By some grace of God, they’d found their way through all of that. They’d persevered and would continue to do so. Together.
The thought allowed Samantha to smile in response to Lady Edwina’s comment before she delicately inquired, “Now that you’re here, I suppose you’ll be wanting to make your own match?”
The color that rose to Lady Edwina’s cheeks was enough of an answer, even though she said, “I worry about the impact of my potentially marrying.”
Samantha understood. “You fear it would take you away from your sister? Force you to abandon her in favor of living your own life?”
“The guilt would eat away at me.” The rawness in Lady Edwina’s voice made it clear she spoke in earnest.
They reached the end of the ballroom in silence and turned along the periphery. A footman appeared and Samantha eagerly snatched up a glass of chilled lemonade. If only she’d thought to bring a fan. She savored the drink’s cooling effect as she took several sips.
“We could step out into the hallway if you’d like to escape the heat for a bit,” Lady Edwina said.
Samantha nodded. “If you don’t mind, a reprieve would be lovely.”
They made their way toward the large double doors leading out of the ballroom.
A maid had paused directly ahead. The cold look in her eyes as she looked past Samantha struck her as odd, but something broke the maid’s attention and sent her hurrying off.
Samantha continued onward with Lady Edwina.
She felt the drop in temperature as soon as they entered the foyer. It was so much more pleasant out here.
She turned to Lady Edwina, intent on continuing their conversation from earlier.
“I realize you feel underserving of happiness when your sister has had to sacrifice hers, but is it not possible for you to find a balance? If it means so much to you, then make it a part of your marriage contract. Insist upon you and your husband having your sister live with you or speak with your brother and see if you might remain at his estate with your husband. At least for part of the year.”
Lady Edwina gave Samantha a dubious look. “No man would agree to live at another man’s estate. Least of all if he has his own.”
“Which is why I suggested it not be full-time.” Samantha drank some more lemonade while Lady Edwina took on a pensive look. “My point is there are options — solutions worth exploring so you can be happy.”
“Perhaps…” Lady Edwina said, her attention sliding toward the ballroom.
Samantha followed her gaze, until she spotted a group of young gentlemen. One of them tipped his head in their direction, prompting Samantha to say, “An acquaintance of yours?”
Lady Edwina’s flush from earlier returned in full force. She averted her gaze from the gentleman in question. “Mr. Keith Orwell. He and I danced the first reel of the evening together.”
“I gather it was a pleasant diversion?”
“Very much so,” Lady Edwina said in a rush. She bit her lip and appeared to struggle against Mr. Orwell’s pull from the other room. “Is he still looking this way?”
A quick glance provided the answer. “He is.”
Lady Edwina beamed for a second, then frowned. “I’ve no experience with such things, Mrs. Croft. How do you recommend I proceed?”
“That would depend on what…” Samantha’s next words died in her throat when her gaze slid sideways once more and she spotted Wrengate.
Worse, he’d spotted her and his sister. Samantha straightened her spine and drew back her shoulders as he strode toward them, eating up the distance much faster than she expected. He reached them before she’d fully prepared herself for what promised to be an uncomfortable confrontation.
“Mrs. Croft.” His voice was so curt it bordered on rudeness, the flint in his eyes so sharp she could almost feel herself getting skewered. “I was under the impression that I made myself clear when I spoke with your husband last. Yet here you are, socializing with my sister.”
Lady Edwina’s expression turned wary. “Mrs. Croft and I have been having a lovely chat. So much so, I’m happy to call her my friend.”
Wrengate’s expression turned so thunderous at those words Samantha feared his head would explode. He clenched his jaw, then turned that furious expression away from Samantha and toward his sister, who jolted with a gasp.
“Return to the ballroom,” he said. When Lady Edwina hesitated, her uncertain gaze flitting between him and Samantha, he added a perilously low, “Now.”
Lady Edwina swallowed, muttered something about being pleased to have met Samantha, and hurried away.
Samantha firmed her expression, her hatred for Wrengate climbing toward a newly discovered peak.
What a fool she’d been to think the man might be decent simply because he’d tried to help his sickly sister.
In all likelihood, he’d only done so because of some clause left in his parents’ will. On this uplifting thought she raised her chin and prepared to stand her ground.
The man stepped closer, sending Samantha’s pulse racing as instinct prepared her for battle. She held firm, forcing herself to stay still while he asked, “Did Croft not tell you to stay out of my affairs?”
She drew a slow breath. “He did.”
His eyes sparked with the kind of fury she knew could turn lethal. Her fingers flexed, prepared to retrieve a deadly hairpin and face the consequence later.
The next words he spoke were not only proof of his power, but of how dangerous he could be.
“I know it was you who killed the men I sent after Wycliff. That it was also you who broke into my home last September. The evidence I have in my possession is very compelling. So much so it can easily ensure your permanent removal from my life. I hear Australia is lovely this time of year, and with a baby on the way, you’ll no doubt welcome the added rest such a journey provides. ”
Samantha reminded herself to keep breathing, to not let instinct take over. Murdering a duke in another duke’s home would probably not be the best way forward. Her mind raced while her heart sent hard beats drumming through her.
What proof could he possibly have beside the few strands of hair he’d managed to pull from her head when they’d fought in his study? She’d worn a mask, both then and during the altercation he’d mentioned, when she’d killed the men he’d sent after Wycliff.
He’d not seen her face or heard her speak. No one had. She was certain of it.
With this in mind, she stared him down instead of retreating. “You’re bluffing.”
His lips curled with dark menace. “Is that a gamble you’re willing to take?”
She considered his question, considered his title, and knew her answer. For if Wrengate was truly as sinister as she believed, he’d have no qualms about producing whatever proof he required in order to rid himself of her forever.
“No.”
He remained where he was for a couple of seconds, shoulders hunched, hands fisted by his sides as he leaned toward her. “Stay away from my family and stay away from me.”
No additional words were uttered. He simply withdrew, like a storm cloud choosing to disappear to other parts, and marched off.
Samantha released a heavy sigh and closed her eyes for a moment. A few steady breaths helped ease the tension out of her shoulders. She relaxed and took another sip of her drink while silently cursing Wrengate to perdition.
One day, eventually, she’d see him in hell.
But not tonight.
She finished her lemonade and returned to the ballroom. Ensuring her path would not intercept Wrengate’s or Lady Edwina’s, she crossed to the opposite side and nearly sagged with relief when she spotted Adrian.
He was standing with Edward and Viscount Birchwood, his attention occasionally drifting toward other parts of the room, until he saw her. His lips broadened into a smile of pure pleasure, even as a few creases appeared on his brow.
Excusing himself to the others, he approached, meeting her halfway. “Is everything all right? You look a bit pale.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him before explaining. “I met Wrengate’s sister, Lady Edwina. A lovely woman with whom I’m sure I could have been fast friends. Until her brother ruined it all with his interference.”
“Ruined it how?” Adrian asked, his voice no longer warm and inviting but hard and unyielding. He caught her upper arm and drew her against him. “Did he threaten you, Samantha?”
“I handled it.” His grip on her tightened, his nostrils flaring as rage turned his eyes a beastly shade of black.
However dangerous Wrengate had looked, this topped it, prompting Samantha to turn more fully toward him.
Her palm settled gently against his cheek as she calmly repeated, “I handled it.”
His ragged breaths stirred the hot air around her. “You’re certain?”
Her nod wasn’t met by conviction exactly, but it was enough for now. There would be no altercation, no threat of Adrian losing his head, no reason for either of them to worry about Wrengate for the rest of the evening. They could discuss what had happened later, when they returned home.
“I think I’d like to dance with you now,” she said at the sound of a waltz starting.
The satisfied curve of his lips matched the roguish gleam in his eyes.
He offered his arm and she looped hers through it, allowing her to press up against his powerful frame.
The added closeness brought a whiff of his custom-made scent with it.
She inhaled, the fragrance of sandalwood mixed with bergamot and musk casting a spell on her senses.
Her fingers curled over his forearm, puckering the sleeve of his superfine wool jacket.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the suggestion you made before we left home,” he murmured, leading her onto the dance floor.
His words, filled with daring promise, danced across her nerves and sent her pulse racing. She did her best to school her features as they took their places across from each other. “What suggestion would that be?”
A soft growl accompanied the heated look he gave her. “I think you know, but I’ll be more than happy to remind you after this set.”
The bothersome heat in the room became an inferno. At this rate, he’d have to mop her up once the dance was over. She cleared her throat. “I do believe a bit of cool air would do me good.”
His teeth flashed. “So you do remember, you teasing minx.”
Her chance to respond was lost as the dance commenced in earnest and he swept her into his arms. Skirts swirling, she spun as he led her about the floor. Hands clasped, their steps in perfect synchrony, they transformed into one singular unit.
* * *
Keith Orwell scanned the note he’d just been given by one of the maids.
Meet me in the conservatory in half an hour. I’d like to speak with you in private. E.
His stomach tightened in response to the promising words, for while his dance with Lady Edwina had been delightful, Wrengate’s decision to step in and steer her away from Keith as soon as it ended had smarted.
He’d not had the chance to speak with her since though he had caught her gaze from across the room on a few occasions.
It bothered him that he’d lacked the backbone to stand against the duke.
To do so, however, might have a negative impact on Luxury Imports, in which case Keith would be faced by his father’s ire as well.
But now…
If Lady Edwina had the courage to summon him, then he would answer her call. Indeed, the very idea of being alone with her, of possibly holding her in his arms, of something…more…made him turn toward their designated meeting spot without second thought.
Never before had he wanted something as much as he wanted her, and after all he’d been through — after all he’d endured in that horrid war — he would let himself live a little. Even if it were only for one night.