Murmurs began to ripple through the growing crowd. Samantha felt the familiar sensation of walls closing in around her, of becoming the center of unwanted attention.
“That’s not what happened,” she said, but her voice sounded too sharp, too defensive, to her own ears.
“I must return to my husband immediately,” Lady Willington announced. “I cannot bear to remain in such dishonorable company.” She gathered her skirts and swept past them, Lord Eastwich following in her wake.
“Lady Willington, wait!” Samantha called, but it was too late. The woman had already disappeared into the crowd, leaving behind a wake of whispered speculation.
“A duke and a spinster,” someone murmured.
“Well, he is known for his… associations.”
“And she’s been on the shelf for years.”
“Most inappropriate behavior for a garden party.”
Samantha felt the duke’s presence beside her, solid and warm, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. The damage was done.
Tomorrow, all of London would be buzzing with talk of their supposed tryst.
“Samantha?” Jane’s voice cut through the crowd, bright with confusion. “What’s happening? Why is everyone?—”
“Jane!” Relief flooded through Samantha as she spotted her sister approaching through the crowd, looking perfectly respectable and utterly bewildered.
“Lady Jane!” Lord Stonehall’s voice carried across the garden as he emerged from the direction of the house, his cravat slightly askew. “I was looking everywhere for you. Are you quite well?”
“Uncle William,” Jane said, her eyes wide as she took in the scene. “Samantha, what’s wrong? Everyone’s staring.”
Lord Norfeld appeared at Jane’s side, his face grave as he assessed the situation. The murmuring crowd was growing larger, and Samantha could see the calculation in various faces as they weighed the social implications of what they believed they’d witnessed.
“We’re leaving,” Uncle William said firmly. “Now.”
“Your Grace,” Lord Stonehall said, approaching the duke with obvious confusion, “what’s happened? Is Lady Jane?—”
“Your Grace,” Lord Norfeld interrupted, his tone cool and formal, “might I request a private word?”
The duke inclined his head slightly. “Of course.”
“Not here,” Lord Norfeld said, glancing meaningfully at the crowd. “Perhaps you might call upon me tomorrow morning?”
“Uncle,” Samantha began, but he silenced her with a look.
“Tomorrow morning,” he repeated to the duke. “We have much to discuss.”
The duke’s jaw ticked once, but he nodded. “I shall be at your disposal.”
“Come, girls,” Lord Norfeld said, taking Jane’s arm and gesturing for Samantha to follow. “We’re going home. Immediately.”
The carriage ride to Norfeld Hall passed in oppressive silence. Samantha sat rigid in her corner, staring out at the dark countryside while Jane fidgeted with her gloves and shot worried glances between her sister and their uncle.
Finally, as they turned up the drive to their estate, Lord Norfeld spoke.
“Samantha,” he said, his voice heavy with disappointment, “I am at a loss to understand how you could have been so careless.”
“Uncle—”
“Do you have any idea what this will do to your sister’s reputation? To our family’s standing in society?”
“It was a misunderstanding,” Samantha said desperately. “I was looking for Jane, and I encountered the duke by chance. We were searching together when we came upon Lady Willington and Lord Eastwich in a compromising position. She lied to protect herself.”
