“But surely there’s some romance? Some passion? The way he looked at you at your wedding …” Jane sighed dreamily. “It was like something from a Gothic novel! Dark, intense, and absolutely thrilling.”
Samantha’s steps faltered slightly as memories of Ewan’s kiss flooded her mind. The way his hands had framed her face, the desperate hunger in his voice, the fire that had consumed them both for those brief, intoxicating moments.
“Samantha?” Jane’s voice sharpened with concern. “You’ve gone quite pale. What is it?”
“Nothing,” Samantha said quickly, then found herself unable to meet her sister’s penetrating gaze. “That is… there was an incident. A moment of… confusion.”
That was the only thing she could call it now.
“Confusion?” Jane’s eyes widened with interest. “What sort of confusion?”
Samantha glanced around to ensure they weren’t being overheard, then leaned closer to her sister.
“He kissed me,” she whispered, her cheeks slowly heating.
Jane stopped walking entirely, her mouth falling open. “He kissed you? Your husband kissed you, and you call it confusion?”
“It wasn’t… it wasn’t a gentle, matrimonial sort of kiss,” Samantha explained, her voice barely audible. “It was… intense.”
“Oh my goodness,” Jane breathed, her eyes now sparkling with romantic fervor. “Samantha, don’t you see? This is exactly like something from a novel! The brooding duke, overcome with passion for his reluctant bride. The kiss that changes everything. The?—”
“Jane, stop,” Samantha interrupted firmly. “You’re romanticizing what was clearly a mistake. Men like him… they have certain appetites. The kiss meant nothing beyond physical desire.”
“You don’t truly believe that,” Jane said, studying her sister’s face intently. “If it meant nothing, why are you blushing? Why do you look as though you’re remembering something wonderful and terrible at the same time?”
“Because it was terrible,” Samantha insisted. “Terrible because it reminded me how foolish I can be when it comes to men.”
Jane shook her head vigorously. “You’re wrong, Samantha. The way His Grace looked at you… it is a look of passion and?—”
“You’re being fanciful,” Samantha said, her fingers curling into fists that dug her nails into the soft flesh of her palms.
“I do not think so.” Jane said stubbornly. “Mark my words, sister. Your story is far from over. In fact, I suspect it’s only just beginning.”
Samantha was not all that optimistic, however. She knew that just because something begun, did not mean that it would… continue, or bloom into better.
No. It could just as easily meet a premature end.
That evening, Samantha found herself seated across from her husband at the elegant dining table in their London townhouse, with Percy holding court at the head of the table. The young viscount seemed particularly animated this evening, his conversation flowing with unusual enthusiasm.
“Uncle, you simply must hear about my triumph at Lady Pemberton’s this afternoon,” Percy announced, gesturing dramatically with his fork. “I managed an entire conversation about the weather without once mentioning mythology or poetry.”
“Remarkable,” Ewan replied dryly, cutting into his beef with perhaps more force than necessary. “A breakthrough worthy of celebration, I’m sure.”
“Indeed it was! Though I must confess, it required tremendous self-restraint. When Lord Ashford commented on the beauty of the sunset, I nearly launched into a comparison with Helios driving his chariot across the heavens?—
“Percival.”
“—but I caught myself just in time.”
Samantha found herself fighting a smile at Percy’s earnest pride in his accomplishment. “That does sound like quite an achievement, Lord Stonehall.”
“Oh, you must call me Percy, Aunt Samantha. We’re family now, after all.” Percy beamed at her with such genuine warmth that she felt a flutter of affection for the dramatic young man. “On that note, I’ve been wondering… how long were you two in a secret courtship? Uncle Ewan has been terribly secretive about the whole affair.”
Samantha nearly choked on her wine, shooting a panicked glance at her husband, his uncle. Of course, she hadn’t expected the duke to reveal the truth of their circumstances to his nephew, but it was still jarring to say the least.
“Perhaps,” Ewan said smoothly, “some stories are better left private.”
“But surely there’s no harm in sharing a few romantic details,” Percy persisted. “I’m attempting to understand the nature of true love, you see. For research purposes.”
