Her mother let out her breath. “I’m so glad to have thought of that. For a moment I feared— But it was merely panic! My heart nearly stopped when I thought you might have been hurt.” She embraced Samantha and kissed her cheek. “Sleep well, my dear.”
“Thank you, Mama.”
She closed the door behind her mother and leaned against it. Hardly breathing, she groped in her pocket. It was a coarse bit of paper, but it unfolded to reveal a familiar character: the rakish skunk had become a warrior, his fur bristled and his teeth bared. He was down on his knees, a sword clutched in his paws in the manner of a knight pledging himself. To anyone else it would look like a bit of rubbish, but Samantha gave a gulping sob of happiness at the sight. “George,” she whispered.
It was not farewell. He meant to fight for her.
Chapter Thirteen
Gray bounded out of the Rowland carriage the following morning.
“Not so quickly,” muttered his father, climbing down the step behind him.
“I have to see her again.” He’d barely slept all night, wondering if Samantha had interpreted his message correctly.
The duke grunted. “Be that as it may, I know Stratford well enough to know this: do not seem too eager. The more he knows you want something, the harder he’ll make you work to get it.”
Gray’s jaw tightened, but he had asked for his father’s help, and only an idiot would spurn the duke’s advice. He wrestled his impatience into order and fell into step beside his father as the footman rapped the knocker.
“His Grace the Duke of Rowland,” announced the footman when the butler opened the door. “And his son, Lord George Churchill-Gray.”
“Your Grace,” said the startled butler. “Your pardon—”
“Yes, yes,” said Rowland, striding past the man as if it were his own house. “I know Stratford’s here. We’ll wait.” The butler scrambled to direct them to a small morning room, and recovered his composure enough to bow his way out with a look of frosty disdain.
Gray prowled the room. It was spartan and immaculate, overlooking the street. “Sit,” said his father. “George, sit down.”
“If he’s whipped her I won’t be able to restrain myself.” Reluctantly he took a seat.
“You can and you will.” Rowland leaned back, stretching his legs out on front of him and clasping his hands over his belly. “You have come to make an honorable offer of marriage for the lady. I have come to show my approval of the union, even though I’ve yet to set eyes upon the bride.” He bent a wry look on his son. “This is a ramshackle way to go about marriage.”
Gray ran his hands over his head. “I know. I didn’t intend to do it this way, but now there’s no choice.”
Rowland grunted. “Are you certain you know what you’re getting into, setting your heart on Stratford’s daughter?”
He did. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, and Samantha’s sparkling eyes shone back at him, her blond curls sliding free of their knot as he swung her around the tiny confines of the Bull and Dog. Her soft voice whispered in his ear, pleading and encouraging and marveling all at once as he touched her. He felt her hands on his skin, recalled the taste of her mouth, and felt the flush of elation when he brought her to climax. “Yes,” he said softly.
The duke was quiet for a moment. “It’s rare enough you ask for my assistance, I can hardly refuse. God help a man in love.”
“Father.” Gray raised his head. “She’s not at all like the earl.” He glanced at the door and lowered his voice. “Once she’s my wife, I won’t let Stratford near her.”
Rowland cocked one sandy eyebrow. “You don’t just marry the woman, you marry the family. This is not a romantic escapade, where the two of you throw off all connections and decamp to America. Mark my words: Stratford’s not the sort to surrender what’s his lightly.”
Gray didn’t expect a surrender. He’d fight a war for her, though, and if Samantha never wanted to see her father again, Gray would ensure she didn’t.
They sat and waited. Eventually, just at the edge of having been left waiting for an insulting length of time, the butler returned. “His Lordship expresses his gratitude for your call today, but unfortunately he is unable to receive you at the moment—”
“We’ll wait,” said Rowland, still relaxed and unruffled in his seat.
The butler peered down his long, thin nose. “That will not be necessary, His Lordship bade me tell you. He regrets that he will be busy for some time.”
Gray rose. “I daresay Lord Stratford would prefer to have this conversation in discreet privacy. We have come to do just that. However, if he prefers a scene, I’m willing.”
The butler looked from one to the other and closed the door without a word.
Half an hour later they were shown into the study. The earl stood behind his desk, expressionless and collected. “Rowland.” A very chilly smile touched his lips for a moment, and he bowed. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
The duke returned the bow. “Stratford. My son, George.” Gray bowed. “’Tis his business we’ve come on today, very happy business.”
The earl’s pale gray gaze moved to him.
Gray had decided to assume the earl had learned everything about Samantha’s time in Stanhope Street, one way or another. Accordingly he met those arctic eyes squarely. “I would like permission to court your daughter Samantha, my lord.”
For a moment the earl didn’t react. Then he reached for the bell. “Send Lady Samantha down,” he told the servant who appeared almost instantly.
His heart skipped a beat at her name. “Excellent thought,” said the duke warmly. “Let the lady decide. It’s her hand at stake, what?”
Stratford looked as if he’d eaten a lemon. “She will not decide. I have a question to pose to her.”
Rowland just raised his brows. Gray kept his expression neutral. Several minutes later, the door opened and Samantha stepped in.
She was more beautiful than he remembered, in a pale green dress with a locket around her neck and her blond curls twisted up. Her eyes met his and Gray felt his lungs constrict. Even though she didn’t smile, he could tell she was pleased to see him.
“Samantha,” said the earl coldly. “Do you know this man?”
“Yes.” A blush of color came into her cheeks.
“Indeed.” The earl stepped from behind his desk. “Is he the man who aided and abetted your illicit flight from your family?”
“He is the man who saved me from villains and gave up his own apartment for my comfort and safety,” she replied.
“Is he the man who took you to a common tavern and plied you with gin?”
“Yes,” she answered. “And it was wonderful.”
Stratford stopped dead. “Is he the man who violated you?”
Gray scowled. The duke made a quiet, shocked noise. Samantha raised her chin. “No,” she said, her voice clear and calm. “He is the man I love.”
The earl’s face hardened. “Nevertheless, he has not behaved as a gentleman. And you are betrothed to Lord Philip Osbourne, son of the Marquess of Dorre.”
“I refuse to marry Lord Philip,” said Samantha, now flushed. Her hands were in fists, though she had pressed them into the folds of her skirt.
“I’m here to make my own proposal of marriage,” Gray said quickly. “One that is, I hope, more to Lady Samantha’s liking.”
Joy glimmered in her eyes. “Very much so.”
“Well done!” Rowland pounded Gray on the shoulder. “Shall we settle the terms?” he said to Stratford.
Gray glanced at the earl. Now he saw why Samantha had run, why she preferred to throw herself on the mercy of strangers rather than defy her father. Stratford was white-faced with rage, and Gray privately vowed never again to leave that man alone with Samantha. He looked like he could murder her.
“No.”
The one word, clipped and icy, made them all start. “Tomorrow’s just as good,” said Rowland, recovering. “I�
��ll send my solicitor—”
“No,” repeated Stratford. “My answer to your offer of marriage, sir, is no.” Now he looked like he would murder Gray as well. Samantha darted an uncertain look at him, and Gray drew breath to argue.
“George,” said the duke mildly, “escort Lady Samantha to another room. I fear my next comments shan’t be fit for a woman’s ears.”
“How dare you,” began the earl in a tight, furious voice.
Rowland turned toward Stratford. He was a big man, barrel-chested and broad-shouldered, while the earl was lean and wiry. Gray knew he was the most amiable man in the world, but when he wished to be, the duke could be a terrifying and imposing figure. “Let them go.”
Stratford jerked in shock. Without looking away from the earl, Rowland waved at Gray, who seized Samantha’s hand and led her from the room.
“Oh my goodness,” she whispered. “Oh my goodness!”
“Where can we wait?” he asked, and she pointed down the hall. Almost running, he pulled her into the small parlor, and barely shoved the door closed before she flung herself into his arms.
“You came!” She was laughing and crying at the same time. “You came for me!”
“Didn’t you know I would?” He kissed her before she could reply. “The skunk—”
“I didn’t know you would be here today!”
“As if I could wait.” He untangled her arms from around his neck. “Since I’ve done nothing else properly, let me do this well.” Retaining his grip on her hands, he went down on one knee. “My darling Samantha, will you marry me?”
Her smile trembled. “If my father—”
“He’s going to consent,” Gray promised her. “Why do you think I brought my father? Rather like calling in the heavy cavalry, that. I wasn’t taking any chances.”
She laughed, swiping tears from her cheeks. “Yes. Yes! I would run away with you if you asked.”
He hauled her down for another kiss, and there was no more talking for a while.
When a servant opened the door to admit the duke, they were sitting on the sofa, hand in hand. Rowland came directly to Samantha. “I trust my son has pulled his wits together and proposed to you decently.”
“He has.”
Rowland’s face softened. “Welcome to the family, my dear.”
“He—he consented?” she gasped.
Rowland nodded. “With some conditions. Your dowry, I’m afraid, is not what a lady of your position deserves, but no matter. George, I will double your income. A married man must live properly.”
Gray nodded, overcome with gratitude. That would give him four thousand a year.
“One of your paintings will be returned to the exhibition,” Rowland went on. “I pressed for both, but then he began speaking of waiting a year for the wedding, and I suspected that would not be acceptable.”
“Not at all,” said Gray. The paintings could go to the devil.
“Thank you, sir.” Samantha’s voice was choked with emotion.
With a rather sly smile, the duke raised her hand to his lips. “The final condition is that I shall give away the bride. Stratford feels a strong desire to remove to his country estate at once.”
Gray looked at Samantha. Her eyes were wide and dazed. “Then the wedding…?”
“Will take place as soon as George procures a license.” He winked at his son. “Get yourself to Doctor’s Commons, lad. I am going to purchase a wedding gift for my new daughter.”
Epilogue
Eight days later
St. George’s Church, Hanover Square
Samantha stepped down from the carriage and craned her neck, trying to see the clock near the base of the spire. “Are we late?”
Her brother raised a brow. “Do you think he wouldn’t wait?”
“No.” She gave him a stern glance. “I just don’t want to be late. Is my dress crushed?” She turned so he could inspect her skirt.
“Not a bit. You look beautiful,” Benedict told her. “But not because of the dress.”
Samantha could only beam at him in helpless happiness. Gray had gone to see her brother as soon as he’d got the license, correctly guessing that Stratford would prevent her mother from attending. Lady Stratford had defied her husband enough to order Samantha’s belongings packed and sent to her, but Stratford had made her accompany him back to Richmond. Elizabeth was too far away, and if not for Benedict, Samantha would have arrived at her wedding alone.
Some day, somehow, Samantha hoped to rescue her mother. This moment would be utterly perfect if only Mama were here to share her happiness. She strongly suspected, though, that her mother had gone quietly to Stratford Court to keep the earl from disrupting the wedding. As always, Lady Stratford put her children above herself.
“Are you pleased, Ben?” she asked, taking his proffered arm and starting up the steps at his side. “Do you approve?”
“I approve of him. I can’t say it was the best idea to run away, but I am very pleased it’s worked out so happily for you.” He smiled ruefully. “May we all be so fortunate.”
She squeezed his arm in silent agreement. They had reached the vestibule, where Rowland waited.
“I thought I was to escort the bride,” he said jovially.
“I’ll take my sister down the aisle,” Benedict replied.
“Very good. I’ll inform the impatient bridegroom that you have arrived.” He glanced at the stunning pearl necklace Samantha wore, which he had bestowed on her the previous day. “They become you, my dear.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He opened his arms. “From today on, you may call me Papa—or any other nickname that takes your fancy.”
Samantha caught her brother’s shocked expression, but she stepped into the duke’s light embrace and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Papa.” She’d never called anyone that.
He opened the sanctuary doors, and Samantha saw Gray—her George—waiting at the end. His three brothers stood with him, and the duchess sat near the front. It was real. Her throat felt tight and her heart was full to bursting. In an hour she would no longer be a Lennox, Lord Stratford’s daughter, but Lady Samantha Churchill-Gray, wife of a painter with long hair and a ready laugh and the kindest heart she could imagine a man possessing. And he loved her, enough to take her with nothing. Stratford had revoked her dowry and was probably writing her out of his will at this moment.
Gray looked back and saw her. His head came up, and even from a distance she could see the wide grin on his face.
“Shall we go?” murmured Benedict. “Before he charges back here to fetch you himself?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling broadly, and walked forward to meet her love.
End Notes
If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a review of it online. Thank you!
This novella is part of the Scandals series, featuring the notorious 50 Ways to Sin stories that Jenny shares so gleefully with Samantha. The novels in the series are Love and Other Scandals (book 1); It Takes a Scandal (book 2), which is about Sebastian Vane; Love in the Time of Scandal (book 3), which is about Samantha's brother Benedict; and Six Degrees of Scandal (book 4), in which the mysterious Lady Constance, author of 50 Ways to Sin, is finally revealed. All’s Fair in Love and Scandal is a novella, best read between books one and two.
About Caroline
Caroline Linden was born a reader, not a writer. She earned a math degree from Harvard University and wrote computer software before turning to writing fiction. Her books have won the NEC Reader’s Choice Beanpot Award, the Daphne du Maurier Award, and RWA’s RITA Award. If you’d like to be notified when her next book is available, visit her website to sign up for her newsletter. You can also follow her on twitter or like her on Facebook.
Other Books by Caroline
The Scandals Series
Love and Other Scandals
It Takes a Scandal
All's Fair in Love and Scandal
Love in the Time of Scandal
The Truth About the Duke Series
I Love the Earl, novella
One Night in London
Blame It on Bath
The Way to a Duke’s Heart
The Reece Family Series
What a Gentleman Wants
What a Rogue Desires
A Rake’s Guide to Seduction
Other Novels
What a Woman Needs
Short Stories and Novellas
Like None Other
Written in my Heart
When I Met my Duchess, novella in At the Duke’s Wedding
Will You Be My Wi-Fi?, novella in At the Billionaire’s Wedding
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
End Notes
About Caroline
Other Books by Caroline
A Study in Scandal (Scandalous) Page 12