Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

" O f course, I am happy for you. Who wouldn't be?"

That had been the last thing that Samantha had said to her sister before leaving her home — a manor house that her sister shared with her husband, who just so happened to be a fabulously wealthy duke. Not only that, but he was a good and kind man and everything that a lady could possibly want.

Yet Samantha had rejected him, and her father had never forgiven her for that no matter how well things had ended for everyone involved but herself. She had not lied to her sister, either, for she was truly happy for her, but Samantha had to admit that she was quite miserable for herself, resigned to her fate as the hated daughter. It was simply a shame that the hated daughter had also received an invitation to a party thus had to spend hours in a carriage with her father.

"You will not be a disappointment to me. I hope you are aware of that."

"Yes, Father," she replied absentmindedly, watching through the window.

He had been saying it more and more of late, and she did not know why at first. She had always been perfect, thanks to Diana, save for a thirst for knowledge that he found quite unladylike. Then she remembered that she had tried to run away then spent time with her aunt and her sister rather than being in a woman's place, her home.

Perhaps her father had his reasons after all, even for —

"Are you listening to me?"

"Of course, I am," she said quickly, hoping that he did not follow with another question.

"Samantha, this is of utmost importance. After that little stunt you pulled, we are simply fortunate that nobody heard news of it, and we could salvage your reputation."

The reputation he had ruined throughout her life , she thought, but she did not say as much.

"I do not understand why I have to be here, that is all," she sighed. "I hardly know Lord Drowshire. He is your friend."

"He is as much your friend as he is mine. We are business partners, nothing more. Lord Drowshire simply enjoys the spectacle of parties, and it is an honor for the two of us to be welcomed into his home. So, I shall repeat myself. You will not embarrass me; is that clear?"

"Of course, Father."

After all, it was not typically Samantha that would cause a scene and ruin her family name.

At last, they arrived at the Drowshire estate. It was far more impressive than her own home, almost as grand as her sister's. Almost. In front of it, there stood Lord Drowshire, welcoming his guests into his home. Samantha had always hated that her father made them late to events, but on this occasion, she almost wished it had been the case.

He was not an ugly gentleman, quite the opposite in fact, but Samantha knew that her father was quite intent on marrying her off at the first opportunity, and so if she dared speak more than four words to the man, then she might see a marriage contract drawn up and signed in her name by nightfall. That was the last thing she needed.

She looked to Lord Drowshire's side and noted that his butler seemed quite strange. He was far too commanding to be a servant, that much was sure. Tall, muscular, dark hair that was in all honesty a little too long to be seen as proper and the brightest blue eyes. She could see those eyes from the pathway to the front door, and they only became brighter as they approached.

"Lord Colton!" Lord Drowshire greeted, "And Lady Samantha, it is such a pleasure."

"The pleasure is ours, Lord Drowshire."

Oliver Ipson, the Earl of Drowshire, was a good man, and a well-liked one. He was quite the opposite of Samantha's father, and in spite of Lord Colton's reasoning, she never could quite fathom the two of them having any real friendship between them.

"It certainly is," the butler muttered.

"I beg your pardon?" Lord Colton asked.

"The pleasure is certainly yours," he nodded. "It is quite kind of my dear friend to open his home to people such as yourselves."

Samantha took a step backwards. She was spoken to in such a manner in London often but never outside of it and never by a servant of all things.

"Graham, please," Lord Drowshire began, but the man raised a hand to him, silencing him.

"I shall skip the formalities. Lord Colton and Lady Samantha Winston, is it? Allow me to be the first to say that nobody wants you here."

"I cannot say that I have a particular desire to be here either," Samantha whispered.

"I cannot for the life of me understand," he continued, "why my friend extended an invitation to the two of you. Then again, I suppose that everyone deserves a turn at least once. Perhaps he simply wishes to gain more witty anecdotes for future dinners. Whatever the reasoning, you should know that I do not care for your presence, and I think it is terrible of you , Lord Colton, to drag your daughter here in a clear attempt to pawn her off to the first gentleman that so much as looks in her direction."

Samantha waited for her father to say something. She waited for him to explode, then drag her back to the carriage, and then somehow make the entire situation her fault.

He did not.

"I am sorry that you feel that way," he said instead. "I understand that gentlemen in my position might be seen a certain way, Your Grace, but I intend to change that. I am simply here to see a partner in business, and my dear daughter enjoys socializing and so was overjoyed to receive an invitation. There is nothing more to it."

Samantha should have been surprised by her father's lack of anger, but she was instead preoccupied by the way her father had addressed the man. It would appear that she had seen him incorrectly in terms of title.

"Father, His Grace is right," she nodded. "If that is his first impression of us, then he is quite within his rights to see us in such a manner."

"Yes, of course," her father agreed. "But you and I will change his mind with time, yes?"

"Yes, for we are not what he thinks."

This was not quite true, of course, for her father did truly intend to find a match for her, but the supposed duke had insulted her family, and even if her father was going to stand for it, she certainly was not going to.

"It is a shame, though," she continued, "that His Grace will not be capable of the same thing."

"Are you suggesting that your first impressions of me will not change?" the Duke asked, almost sounding bored, as if he had had such a conversation before.

"They already have, given that with the way you carry yourself, I had assumed you to be a butler rather than a duke."

At that, she seemed to have his attention.

"And let me be clear, Your Grace, that even if I were here to find a husband, I certainly would not be interested in you in the slightest. I prefer gentlemen that have even a hint of humility, even with titles that they value so much. In truth, with a countenance such as yours, you will dissuade even the most determined. If I were you, I would not be too concerned with ladies wanting to marry me and far more preoccupied with making myself seem more like a duke than a servant."

Not all of her anger was towards the Duke. A rather large amount was that she had been dragged away for a party that she did not wish to attend, but the Duke had been the one to send her over the edge, and she could not truly feel remorse for her response.

"If you believe me to be a servant," the Duke said quietly, gesturing to himself, "you either have an extremely high standard for your own servants, or you simply do not spend much time in the company of those with higher ranks, and I can quite easily assume which would be true."

"Is that so? Because I shall have you know that my sister is a duchess herself, and her husband has never been mistaken for such a thing, nor have I ever doubted his position."

"All the more reason for you to be here for a husband. It must sting to have a sister be so successful and be a failure yourself."

"I am not a failure. I shall have you know that I —"

She cut herself off before she could reveal that she had rejected that same duke; it would only provide him with more reason to mock her family.

"I simply have other priorities," she said instead.

"What other priorities could someone such as yourself have? Do not tell me that you are simply so invested in watercolors and pianoforte that you never thought to take a husband."

"The more time spent around men such as yourself, the more the idea entices me."

"Samantha!" her father snapped. "Do forgive her, Your Grace. She is overtired from the journey, that is all."

The Duke raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief, and Samantha had to admit that he was right to do so. It was a weak excuse, and it clearly was not going to work.

"Ah, I suppose that makes sense," the Duke said suddenly, but Samantha could see his wicked grin. "Lady Samantha, should you agree with your father, then I shall forgive you."

She did not agree with her father, nor did she care for his forgiveness. In an ideal world, she would simply turn on her heel, return to the carriage, and take it all the way to Diana's home and hide there forever.

Then again, she had learned her lesson about doing that.

Before she could respond, however, she saw the look in her father's eye. He was warning her, instructing her to swallow her pride and apologize and placate, placate, placate so long as the Duke stayed happy.

"I do," she said quietly, "agree with my father, that is. My apologies, Your Grace, for I am simply overtired."

"Very well. I forgive you."

"Now, now, Graham," Lord Drowshire laughed. "You need not be cruel to the girl. You have it on my authority that she has no interest in finding a husband. Lady Samantha is actually quite the intellectual, which I am sure you will come to see for yourself in time."

Samantha could not help but like the gentleman that she hardly knew. She had perhaps misjudged him, given that he was a friend of her father's, but he seemed quite kind.

Unlike her father, who kept his smile plastered across his face until the second they were shown their rooms. He stormed into hers and grabbed her wrist, furious.

"Would you mind telling me what that was all about?" he ordered. "The Duke of Gloryfield could be an incredibly strong ally for us, and you have ruined our chances of that immediately. How dare you?"

"He spoke ill of us, Father, of you. Do you truly expect me to accept that?"

"Yes," he sneered. "Yes, when someone in a position such as his says something like that, you simply smile and nod and agree. How could you possibly not know to do that?"

"I know that I should, but if someone disrespects my family, then I am going to defend them. I cannot believe that you refuse to."

"Had it been a lie, I might have refuted it, but you know as well as I do why it is that we are here, surely?"

"To attend Lord Drowshire's party."

"To find you a husband."

"I do not want a husband."

"I do not give a damn what you want and do not want!" he roared. "You seem to think that because you managed to escape marrying the Duke of Abaddon that you are capable of doing it again, but you will not disgrace me like that a second time."

Samantha did not think that it was the right time to remind him that the only reason she did not marry the Duke of Abaddon was because her sister had insisted on taking her place.

"I will marry," she promised instead, "when I find a gentleman that I love. You cannot expect more than that, surely?"

"It appears that you misunderstood me when I told you that I do not care what you want. Allow me to make something very clear to you, Samantha. There is a gentleman back in London, a friend of mine, who has offered to take you as his bride should nobody else want you. He is six and fifty, has very little hair left, is so large he struggles to walk, and he still expects to sire an heir. Now, if that life appeals to you, then you may continue to disgrace our family name over and over. If it does not, then I suggest you quieten down and allow a match to be made during this party. Am I making myself clear enough now?"

He did not give her time to answer, instead releasing his grip on her arm and storming out. Samantha remained still for a moment, trying to steady her breath before turning to her bed and sitting on it, staring at the wall.

He had to be bluffing. To her knowledge, he had few friends to speak of at all, and even then, she could not think of a single one that matched his description. It was an empty threat. It had to be.

Then again, her half-brother would be arriving soon. He would be coming to take his place in the family, and so desperate times had perhaps called for desperate measures, and some deal had been made simply so that her father could rid the family of her.

Walking out into the hallway, she saw the Duke of Gloryfield and Lord Drowshire walking towards her room, and so she ducked back inside.

"It is quite a shame that she is so unruly," the Duke sighed. "If I were her father, I might also have become as desperate as that."

"Leave the girl be, Graham," Lord Drowshire replied firmly. "She is a joy, I assure you."

"Then she can bring joy to another, for I want nothing to do with either of them. Scoundrels."

If Diana were there, she would have simply laughed at the Duke's behavior and made Samantha feel better about her dire circumstances, but she was at home with her husband and children, enjoying the very best things in life.

This time, Samantha was on her own.