She gathered her niece by her arm, turned and propelled her outside. Samantha was in a daze. She couldn’t utter a word. While she might have bantered with him about his mistress, never did she expect to meet the flesh and blood woman. Sweet heaven, the lady was beautiful beyond mere words.
About to enter the coach, Lady Minerva called back, “Mr. Pilgrim, don’t forget. My niece’s pendant and earrings must be ready for Saturday without fail.”
Mr. Pilgrim nodded and shrugged.
Raven called on his control in this situation. Lady Buxton still clung to him, but he extricated his arm.
In an instant, Mr. Pilgrim handed the jewelry case to a clerk. “Instruct the jewel setter to see me at once. Lady Harrington has just gifted her niece with extraordinary emeralds and they must be ready for Saturday.” Mr. Pilgrim turned to Raven. “Your Grace, I trust everything was to your satisfaction?”
“No, it’s not.” Raven moved toward the door with Lady Buxton following.
Damnation. Samantha remained the last person in the world he wanted to meet with his mistress in hand. Why did he feel unsettled? He knew the answer all too well. He wanted Samantha to think of him in the most honorable terms. The escort of his mistress around town didn’t lend itself to those noble intentions.
Raven noted the totally oblivious Lady Buxton smile as she fingered the magnificent gems. He might have been stoned with bricks, his temper rising as he led her to the curricle without conversation, and headed in the same direction as the ladies Minerva and Samantha. His conveyance passed theirs. Raven nodded and acknowledged them once again. He could not help but note that Lady Samantha turned her face from him.
Chapter Twelve
“Oh, Aunt, I’m mortified.”
“You will survive mortification, Samantha. It does not matter at the moment.”
Lady Minerva snapped, “Samantha, close your mouth,” She adjusted her shawl around her small shoulders. “Should I assume your apparent shock is because of the enormity of the gift I’ve just bestowed upon you, or is it that you are upset at the sight of His Grace with his mistress?”
Samantha tried to emulate her aunt’s calm composure, but tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Aunt Min, be serious. How could he? To see his mistress there, so real, so beautiful, and clinging like a choking vine, I wanted to dash him to pieces.” She took a linen handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed at her eyes. “Tell me the truth, Aunt Min. Is she more beautiful than I?”
“She has a mature beauty and has lost her youth. As far as I’m concerned, you are a beautiful and rare woman. You have intellect, a warm heart and embrace fantasy notions, but I love you. There is more to a woman than mere beauty, you’ll learn. I see your blatant flirtations with him, but I thought you didn’t like Raven. Since when does he have to be concerned with how you feel about him and his mistress? Men and their courtesans are part of our polite society. They are accepted and appreciated by many a wife. I would’ve killed my husband if he had a mistress, but then I’m of a different opinion. Why are you upset?” She took Samantha’s hand in hers and held it close. “You’ve said to me time and time again that you don’t wish to marry. Why? Could it have been painful for you?”
Samantha bared all in unbearable detail, like an unexpected monsoon. Samantha sobbed as the tears trickled down her cheeks. “It was not a marriage, Aunt Min. It was a sham.” She held her aunt’s hand and tightened her grip. “He… Percival could not…” Her breath raced and her eyes widened.
“Could not what?” Aunt Min asked.
“Percival was unable to…” She paused and blurted out, “Consummate the marriage.”
Aunt Min’s eyes engaged Samantha’s. “Because?”
“Im-impotence. How do I know? He was a liar and deserted me on our wedding night.” She released her aunt’s hand to dab at her tears again. “I lived with the lie and allowed people to refer to us as the ideal couple, besotted with each other. In truth, I hated Percival for what he did to me. My husband took a whole and romantic young woman much in love and deceived me into marriage. His deviousness knew no bounds.” With her other hand, she reached for her aunt again. “Aunt Min, if he didn’t die when he did, I know I’d have shot him at some future point…or at the worst, compromised my principles with a lover. I have always wanted children. Percival knew that. How could I have children if he didn’t want to touch me? Was I that abhorrent? How could he have been so cruel? Why did he marry me? Was it only for my dowry? I hate this society and its inequality toward women.” Samantha agonized.
“In all this time, why didn’t you tell me, Samantha? I could’ve helped and guided you. You know I would’ve been discreet.” She hugged her niece and held her close.
“Yes, Aunt Min, but it was such an embarrassment. I couldn’t tell anyone, not even you. Forgive me. You know how much I love you. Shame poured over me like a tidal wave. It was like everyone could read my mind and know, as if I was unclean, unwanted, and unused.” She reached for her aunt’s jeweled hand. “How could I tell you—or anyone—my new handsome husband left me alone on our wedding night because of his impotency, while he went out to his club or some other haunt I didn’t know. How could I suffer the slander if the ton knew when my husband died, he left behind a virgin wife? What would they have said of me? Would they think me frigid? How would an annulment affect my brother and all that he tries to do for us?”
Minerva whispered in her niece’s ear in sympathy. “What a turn of events, Samantha. I need to dwell on this further. To have all the pain of your marriage with none of the joys is more than a disappointment to a young bride.” She shook her head, perhaps in reminiscence. Her hand caressed Samantha’s tear-stained face. Lady Minerva stated in a low, firm voice, “Tell no one about this, not even your brother.”
They rode back to the house in stony silence. Upon their arrival, they ran into Winston.
Lady Minerva’s tone indicated no concern or restriction. She removed her bonnet and gloves. With nonchalance, she smiled. “Ah, Brandon, while at Mr. Pilgrim’s, we met His Grace, Ravensmere, with Lady Louise Buxton.”
Samantha sulked her way up the steps, desolate and ashamed. Hurt beyond all measure, she yet again allowed another man to deceive her. She would never trust him. He was a brute of the tallest order. How would he feel if she were with another man and Raven came across them in a jewelry store? She chastised herself at the question. They meant nothing to each other—at the moment. She determined never to see him again under any circumstances.
The ensuing days passed at a slow pace for Samantha. Even the auction for her Foundation didn’t excite her.
When the day of the Almack’s auction arrived, in the tumult of the preparation and afternoon festivities sponsored by the premier social committee, Samantha busied herself with attention to details. She slipped in and out of the room, cognizant of the conversations, but did not participate. Her aunt reminded her brother of his promise not to bid for his sister’s picnic basket. “Better to let it be unsold than let the ton know her brother saved her face.” She smiled at Winston. “I know you would spare her this, but she has to accept whatever happens on her terms. Respect Samantha’s wishes. It’s better she learn life’s lessons in preparation for her future.”
Winston acquiesced, as usual.
The porters assisted in the transfer of baskets and passengers in the carriages and landaus under Samantha’s watchful eye. The picnic lunches graced the head table while the invited guests waited in line for their names to be crossed off the invitation list and announced.
True to his word, Raven came alone and joined Lord Winston and Lady Minerva. He noted the auction’s decorations showed a high degree of good taste. Damask-covered tables and chairs added elegance across the lawns. Expensive china headed each place along with silver and gold plate ware. Crystal glasses sparkled and complemented each setting. Flower petals lay on each table for their scent. Floral candelabras substituted as centerpieces and although a picnic lunch, the au
ction would not commence until three in the afternoon as was appropriate for the special event.
“Winston, I find that this is a well organized affair. As I gaze around, everyone seems to enjoy the festivities. Just look at those young ladies sauntering up and down the verdant gardens. They are flirtatious with the eligible men of their acquaintance,” Raven said.
Lady Minerva said, “It promises to be a wonderful afternoon. Mothers will hover nearby to keep a watchful eye in case there would be a need for their protection.”
“This will be a well-remembered occasion,” Raven commented to Winston. “I do hope your foundation will reap sufficient monetary funds for its needs.”
“Your Grace, er, Raven, the foundation is funded by my sister. I thought you were aware of the fact.”
“No, I wasn’t. Such sponsorship is an expensive endeavor,” he commented while deep in thought. This became another side of the lady and her far-reaching magnanimous nature. Duly impressed, he concluded there was much more to know about this unusual woman.
“My mother left her a sufficient inheritance, and my father’s trust fund remains endowed in her name. She had a large dower when she married Sir Percival. I believe I mentioned to you her frugality, but she is also passionate about this charity.” Winston paused and reviewed the crowd of gatherers. “I do feel at times there is sadness within her that she can’t share with her family because it’s too painful.”
Raven took note that even her brother believed Samantha harbored a secret. He was curious to find out what it was and decided at some point he’d find out from her willingly.
“I’m sure when she is prepared to tell you, she will. Most likely, she waits for the appropriate time. Don’t be overly concerned. Sometimes it’s best not to know.”
Chapter Thirteen
At Almack’s
Reverend Carlson stepped to the podium and announced the auction would begin. Raven collected his thoughts. Each lady sat behind her picnic basket. The single ladies were first. The Reverend read the individual menus and managed to make each sound like a gastronomical feast. Exclamations pierced the air. One hundred pounds would not be an uncommon sum to be offered and accepted.
When it came to Lady Samantha’s turn, she seemed confident, but she twirled a curl around her finger perhaps to calm her uneasiness. The basket’s menu revealed an exquisite fare of roasted duck l’orange, a salad of endives, roasted root vegetables of the season, brandied bread pudding, champagne, and red wine.
The Reverend pounded his gavel again and asked for the first bid. Sir Roger Dudley, a well-known libertine, offered one hundred pounds. A silence thundered through the crowd. To Raven, a moment of uncertainty crossed Samantha’s sweet face. Their conversation about rakes and disreputable men came to his mind. Her worst fears were now at her doorstep. He gazed upon hands that clutched the handle of her basket with whitened knuckles.
Lady Minerva placed her gloved hand on Lord Winston’s arm.
Raven took note of this and perceived Samantha as vulnerable. An impossible urge to protect her came over him. She’d placed herself in this position. Damnation.
Anyone who looked as she did in that dress should expect men to offer for her and the picnic lunch. Beautiful and seductive, mere words would be insufficient to compliment her. Her empire-waist chiffon dress shimmered blue-green with a band below her breast line, which accentuated the décolletage and called attention to her soft curves. It occurred to Raven that with this woman everything emphasized some other part of her body. Her magnificent emerald became a lone sentinel who guarded her generous breasts. For his irreverent thoughts, imprisonment came to mind.
The gentlemen who participated in the auction sat on the lawn chairs provided while Raven sat with Winston and her aunt. Lady Minerva continued to hold on to her nephew’s arm in a steadfast manner.
Samantha’s wide eyes seemingly implored Raven to help. How could he not come to her rescue reminiscent of Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere? He raised his walking stick and caught the attention of the minister. He spoke out with deep clarity, “And five pounds, Reverend.”
Lord Dudley peered at the bidder, nodded, and raised his sum to two hundred pounds.
Raven lifted his walking stick. “And five pounds, Reverend.”
Lord Dudley appeared amused and raised the bid to three hundred pounds.
Raven raised his walking stick. “And five pounds, Reverend.” The guests stopped the conversations to watch how the challenge would end.
Lord Dudley raised the bid to five hundred pounds. The audience gasped at the extravagant sum.
Raven nodded. He stole a glance at Samantha, enjoying the experience. He raised his hand, and silence befell the group.
The Reverend asked, “And five pounds, Your Grace?” with a chuckle.
“No, good Reverend,” answered Raven. He engaged Samantha’s eyes. Her expression was one of blatant terror as her hand lay at her throat. He bestowed a knowing smile to calm her.
The auction appeared over and dreaded silence followed. The Reverend set about to announce the winner until Raven spoke in a resonant tone, “I bid one thousand pounds,” with the utmost alacrity.
The hushed assembly looked almost in unison to Lord Dudley, who laughed. “Enough of this amusement. No damn lunch is worth that kind of money,” he grumbled and walked toward the duke. “I capitulate, Your Grace. Good sport, don’t you think?” He bowed and strode away. Meanwhile, Lord Dudley gave the duke a sharp glance, which made Raven surmise Dudley noted the apparent attachment to the Winston family. It could be of interest to certain people who wanted such information about him.
Raven didn’t acknowledge Dudley in any way. Lady Minerva gave a sigh of relief.
Raven rose from the chair, handed the appropriate bank voucher to the Reverend, and stepped lively to Samantha and her picnic basket. “Shall we?” He extended his arm. Samantha clung to his left arm, and he became cognizant of her quaking. He took her expensive picnic basket in his right hand. “Stay calm. I’m here and you are under my protection. No harm will befall you.” Raven escorted her to a secluded table, which he had prearranged, and his name appeared on a place marker. It adhered to propriety while offering privacy.
“You did want me to offer, didn’t you?” Raven shook his head and grinned since he now admitted he had every intention of offering for her costly basket. He much wanted to be with the enchantress, especially after the Lady Buxton fiasco. Samantha enriched his life in ways he dared not imagine. He couldn’t remember a day he enjoyed more and looked forward to the evening.
Samantha flushed and said in a cool utterance, “Thank you, Your Grace. You’ve saved me from a horrible fate and I am grateful. Tell me my brother didn’t put you up to this. I would reimburse you if he did.”
“Is that a statement or a question, dear lady?” He held the chair for her to sit; the scent of her hair so close intoxicated his senses. Raven inhaled for all it was worth and momentarily closed his eyes to enjoy her presence.
“Both.” Samantha took a deep breath to soothe her frazzled nerves. If her brother didn’t put him up to this, why did Raven spend such an extravagant sum for a few hours with her? She needed to pause and take hold of her emotions, or the rest of the afternoon would be a disaster. Raven, of course, looked resplendent. He wore light doeskin gloves and his walking stick sported the ducal crest, but always his sharp angular face attracted her attention.
Her conversation became quick paced, and words flurried out faster than she could think and weigh them. Control finally returned to her busy head. Visions of his mistress flooded her head. She closed her eyes a moment to shoo them away. Not now, her thoughts cautioned. “Thank you, Raven. It’s such a worthy cause.” She lifted the lid of the basket, but he grasped her gloved hand with superb gentleness.
“Allow me. Let us remove our gloves. Do you need assistance? Perhaps a glass of champagne in celebration would help us relax? I can’t remember when I have enjoyed the outlay of so much money be
fore. Of a certain, there are no dull moments when you’re around. I do believe you are a sorceress.”
Those steel eyes tinged with blue-gray in the sunlight held her sight. His face appeared somewhat darker complexioned than she remembered and displayed a strongly pronounced countenance. She could not forget such a man for a thousand years.
Since no words emanated from her, Raven said, “I believe you’ve noticed I’m a determined man. Your brother and I didn’t discuss my bid. I did so because it pleased me. I couldn’t allow Lord Dudley to attempt to compromise you in any way. He would’ve tried. His reputation embarrasses our nobility.” To protect her at all costs became a necessity to him.
Raven popped the cork, something he didn’t have a flair for, since usually his servants performed the task, yet he succeeded and poured champagne into her glass. “The sum will not bankrupt me. I had it reserved to purchase a new horse.” In effort to sound nonchalant and gallant, he realized she might think he compared her to good horseflesh. He attempted to recover from the faux pas by adding, “As you have stated, it’s for a cherished cause, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Your Grace. Congratulations. You found a way to acquit yourself from an awkward situation with your usual finesse and charm. However, I would remind you, I cannot be purchased with such ease.”
“Perish the thought. I’m well aware of the fact. I bid for a few hours of your time. Don’t read anything into my actions and let it discomfit you. If lunch with me is so distasteful, I am prepared to leave you alone.”
He realized he was a bit curt, but it appeared with her, the conversation always held a challenge. Raven rose from the chair.
Chapter Fourteen
The gentle hand that restrained him relieved Raven. Samantha removed her gloves and placed them in her reticule. “I fear you might have misunderstood me,” she said with a sly smile. “I’m happy to be with such a handsome man at this event. Because of you, its success has exceeded any expectations. There will be sufficient funds for the school. I owe you a debt of gratitude.”
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