Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

T rusting someone was one thing, but trusting a duke that had outright stated he could not stand her was something that Samantha did not know that she could do.

It was not as though she had much of a choice, of course. The Duke had given her his word, and she had thanked him, whether she thought he was capable of fixing everything or not. She had then returned to the house and been given some strange concoction that she had not dared ask for the contents of and was sitting in the parlor room, feeling the pain subside at last.

"Lady Samantha!" a familiarly bright voice came. "How are you this morning? You disappeared rather suddenly."

"I felt rather unwell," she replied meekly. "I am far better now, though."

She studied the lady in front of her. She knew that she recognized her, but she could not for the life of her remember why that was.

"You do not know who I am, do you?" she asked. "It is no bother, truly. You seemed out of sorts last night, and so I assumed this would happen. I am Lady Penelope Ipson."

"Lord Drowshire's cousin," Samantha nodded at last. "Yes, the Duke spoke of you."

"And you and I spoke quite at length," she laughed, "but it is no matter now. I am glad you are feeling better, especially if you have been speaking with the Duke. He can be quite… prickly."

And then some, Samantha thought.

"I apologize for forgetting," she sighed. "There has been so much happening that I am at quite the loss."

"It can feel that way around all of us, but I assure you that you will adapt. Now, what else did the Duke say about me?"

Samantha shifted in her seat. It was supposed to be unladylike to gossip, but she also knew it was the job of a lady to do it and to do it well. Then again, the Duke was helping her, and so it was not fair to him, was it?

"You do not wish to answer," Lady Penelope giggled. "It must have been terrible."

"Not at all! No, he simply said that you are a lot like me."

"Ah, are you also a spinster of four and thirty with no desire to change her situation?"

"I am a lady of twenty with a strong desire to change my situation," she corrected her, "though not in the way that everyone believes me to. I do not wish to marry at all, yet it is the first thing that everyone expects."

"I do not," she shrugged. "I think you are quite the capable young lady, and if you wished to make your own way, then you certainly could."

"And had I been born into the Ipson family and been afforded the opportunity, perhaps I would have."

"Ah, your father wishes for you to be married off, is that it?"

"I am promised to a friend of his," she confessed, "should I not find a better match for myself, that is."

"Well, there are eligible bachelors here."

"I have spent too much time convincing those around me that I do not want that for me to change my mind. Besides, nobody here would be a good enough husband for me to change my mind."

"Even my darling cousin? He is quite wonderful."

"He is and also a friend of my father's. I cannot simply avoid one friend of his by marrying another; where is the sense in that?"

"An excellent point. Have you considered a convent?"

"A nunnery," she sighed, and Lady Penelope laughed brightly.

"I suppose that you regret changing your mind about that sometimes."

"Only sometimes. You see, my sister lives with her husband, the Duke of Abaddon, and the two of them have been my greatest allies of late. When I tried to run away, it became clear that I would never see them again. There were other reasons for my staying, of course, but I realized that I do not wish to be without Diana forever."

"Your sister is fortunate to have someone that loves her that much."

"I am the fortunate one, I assure you. She spent her entire life taking care of me when our mother died, and I shall never be able to repay her for that, not that she expects me to."

"I do wish I had a sister, you know," Lady Penelope sighed. "I did not have a single brother or sister, and so Oliver was the closest I had. He is wonderful, but…"

"I know what you mean." Samantha nodded. "We had our aunt care for us when our mother died, and she was perfect, but she still could not replace our mother."

"But had I had a younger sister, I would have done the same as yours did. I would have been breathing down her neck all of her life to give her the best possible chances to make a match."

"Lady Penelope, if you do not mind my asking, why are you not married?"

Lady Penelope seemed to think for a moment, her hands folded in her lap.

"I never saw the use," she explained. "I never met a gentleman worthy of losing my freedoms for, and Oliver promised to take care of me if I never did meet one. Lo and behold, I never found the right husband, and so Oliver has ensured I remained comfortable."

"Then I suppose we are both quite fortunate."

There was another lady in the room, one that Samantha had not paid any attention to, but now that she was looking at her, she felt unease wash over her. She was staring at Samantha with her eyes narrowed, as if she were looking her up and down. She seemed young, younger than Samantha at least.

"Fortunate would be a word to describe you, indeed," she mumbled.

Her challenge had been issued, but Samantha was not going to give in to it. There had been enough whisperings about her in London for her to know that biting back never ended well and was only to be used as a last resort.

"I should like to meet your sister," Lady Penelope continued, rolling her eyes at the other lady. "She must be lovely."

"She truly is."

She was also, Samantha noted, very similar to Lady Penelope herself. Diana, much like her mother, could never be replaced, but just for a moment, it felt as though they were at home discussing everything and nothing all at once. Samantha had so missed that.

"Does she host parties of her own?"

"Would she invite you to them, Lady Samantha?" the other lady interjected. "Given your status, it would be quite surprising to me if she did."

"Enough, Emma," Lady Penelope sighed. "Now is not the time for that."

"You agree with me, and you know you do."

"I certainly do not; now, if you insist on being here, then you can at least show the other guests some respect."

The lady scoffed and left the room, flashing a last sour look at Samantha before disappearing.

"You mustn't listen to her. She thinks she is far more interesting than she truly is, not to mention important."

"At least now that she is gone, I can ask you who she is."

"Her name is Emma Norton. She is being courted by Nicholas, Graham's brother."

"Graham… Oh! The Duke?"

"The very one. Gosh, the day that I met her, she told me that my gown was outdated and my hair appeared as though a bird had gotten trapped in it and flew around trying to escape."

Samantha's mouth practically fell open.

"But she is so — and do not mind my saying this — but she seems much younger than you."

"She is, by five and ten years."

"But that is —"

"Incredibly disrespectful, yes. I would never dream of speaking to an elder in such a manner, but Emma is, well, Emma."

"And nobody has ever told Miss Norton how to behave?"

"Ah, yes, I forgot," Lady Penelope smirked. "You have never met her parents. They have never once told her not to do something. It was easier not to, they said. It was a rather radical choice, and now that it has had the effect it has had, they refuse to see her."

Samantha's brows furrowed. That was almost unfair to the poor girl; she had no choice in how her parents had raised her in the same way that Samantha had, yet while Samantha was pitied by at least some, Miss Norton seemed to be almost blamed for it.

"My apologies, Lady Penelope," Samantha's father said suddenly, "I require a moment with my daughter."

"There is no apology necessary, My Lord," she nodded, throwing Samantha a sympathetic look before returning to her father, "I have stolen quite enough of her time as it is."

Samantha did not wish to speak with her father. Had he discovered what she had done the night before, he would not be angry with her, quite the opposite. Instead, he would be overjoyed and planning their wedding which was the last thing she wanted.

He could not know. He could never know.

"Good morning, Father," she said politely once they were out of earshot. "I trust you slept well."

"Do not play innocent with me."

Samantha felt herself turn cold.

"My apologies, Father. I do not know what you are referring to."

"Of course, you do. Think about it. Why did I bring you here?"

"Because I was invited."

"Because you need a husband," he corrected, already sounding as though he was tired of her. "You shall soon be put on the shelf along with the other ladies too dim to understand their place. I made it quite clear to you that this is your last chance, and I meant every word that I said."

"Lady Penelope is a spinster," Samantha argued. "And she is quite happy as is Lord Drowshire. There are no demands for her to marry."

"And her situation is not as precarious as yours, you know that perfectly well."

"Regardless, do you not think that you might have given too much value to marriage? You are not married, and you never intended for Diana to marry. Why can I not be the same?"

"Diana was always going to marry. I simply did not expect to make such an advantageous match for her. You were always supposed to be the one I found success with, and Diana would marry whoever wanted her. As for myself, I am a man. I do not need help from anyone whereas you ladies require someone that can do everything for you whilst you sit with your needlework or whatever it is you fill your time with."

Samantha laughed. She knew immediately that he would be furious with her for that, but she could not help herself.

"So it was a man that dragged you home each morning?" she asked. "And it was a man that ran the household after Mother died, is that what you are trying to say? Because, if it is, you must know that you are wrong. We had to carry you inside each time you frequented your clubs, and it was my aunt that handled your affairs for you whilst you disappeared to Scotland for all those years."

"Do you think I do not know that?" he asked, his hand balled into a fist. "I did what had to be done, something you need to learn how to do."

"I do not know if abandoning your children had to be done, nor am I sure if it was utterly imperative that you practically resided in bars in Scotland all that time whilst we tried to do our best with what little we had."

His fist raised, and she silenced herself. She dared not look at him properly, but she was sure he was smirking at her.

"There. I much prefer it when you are quiet, you know."

Samantha did not respond.

"Now," he continued, "amongst those here, there is Lord Drowshire, who is an earl and bachelor, and then there is the Duke — a duke , and his brother is very well-off, and then there is also a baron present."

"For one, the duke's brother is courting a lady already."

"That counts for naught. Of all of them, one of them must be stupid enough to fall for you and want you as their wife. It is your duty to hurry that along."

"I do not want to. I do not like any of them. I told you, Father, that the moment I meet the man I love, I will marry him, no questions asked."

"And I told you exactly how much I care about you being in love, did I not? Let me reiterate, as you seem to be as lacking in intelligence as I need the gentlemen to be. I do not care if you are happy nor in love. That simply does not happen for people like us. You will marry the first man to show an interest, and you will leave my household so that my heir can have the best possible start to his time here. Am I clear enough with words, or must I use other means?"

"It is clear, Father," she sighed, looking at the ground.

"Good. Now, if there is any more of this nonsense about love and refusing to do as I say, there will be other consequences than simple conversations. You will be married, Samantha, whether you like it or not, and it will be done within the month. I will force it if I must, do not doubt that."

He left her no time to respond, leaving the room immediately. Samantha suddenly felt the ability to breathe properly return to her. It was not the first time that she had noticed that. Whenever her father was around, she was scared to do the simplest of things in case it angered him. It was strange because she still used her voice and had hardly ever been afraid to, but everything else seemed to scream at her to do what was necessary to survive, and it was only growing worse with time.

A desperate man would do unspeakable things as means to an end after all.

Samantha placed a hand on her chest, feeling it rise and fall as she steadied her breathing. She closed her eyes gently, waiting for it all to stop so that she could go back to the room with Lady Penelope and act as though nothing was amiss.

But it was. Everything was wrong, and she hated everything, especially the fact that there was nothing she could do to make it all easier. This was simply how it was for her now, and no amount of begging and pleading would ever fix it.

After all, what was there that a girl could do? It was as her father had told her — she had a role to fill whether she liked it or not, and she decisively did not like it, but who was she to tell him that? Any good daughter would have silenced herself and agreed.

Which meant, Samantha thought to herself, she was a terrible daughter indeed.