Page 80 of Tempting the Marquess

“And Lady Samantha. How wonderful to see you again.”

Samantha blushed. Mrs. Kingsley’s face was blankly polite and professional, but for heaven’s sake, the last time they had seen each other the woman had been organizing a bath and untorn clothes for her after the evening in William’sbed.

“Hello, Mrs. Kingsley,” she mumbled.

“If you will both follow me, I’ll take you to see his lordship. Dr. Murray has confined him to his bedchamber for a few days to ensure he rests, but I’m afraid he is not being a very good patient.”

“How...how bad is his injury?” Samantha asked tentatively, taking Alexander’s arm for courage as the housekeeper led them across the cavernous foyer and up the first set of stairs.

“Not as bad as we were initially led to believe,” said Mrs. Kingsley, glancing sideways and nodding approvingly. “The bullets missed his heart and lungs, and his shoulder will suffer no permanent damage save a few scars.”

“Thank God,” said Alexander. “Based on what my brother saw and the initial report we received from Whitehall, we held little hope Standish would survive, let alone recover enough to come home within a few weeks of the event.”

“It was a distressing time for us all, your grace,” she replied briskly, but her hands were twisting and untwisting themselves in the folds of her apron as they made their way along the painting-lined hallway to the master bedchamber. “However, I don’t think his lordship wishes to dwell on France. In fact, I believe he has, ah, other matters on hismind.”

Samantha frowned. For a strong and forthright woman, Mrs. Kingsley looked very nervous. “What kind of matters? Is something wrong?”

“Your grace, Lady Samantha, I must apologize in advance for what I’ve done. His lordship does not know I sent you a note. Actually, his specific orders were that he didn’t want to see either of you. At all. I believe he has heard rumors—”

“Excuse me?” said Alexander incredulously as Samantha’s jaw dropped in shock. What on earth was the housekeeper talking about?

Mrs. Kingsley lifted her chin. “It is not for me to comment on gossip, your grace. But it is my firm belief that wounds must not be allowed to fester. If there is a confession to be made or a misunderstanding to be cleared up, it should be done sooner rather than later.”

“For a plain-speaking woman, you are certainly spouting a great many riddles,” snapped Alexander is his coldest ducal voice.

“Again, I ask your grace’s forgiveness,” Mrs. Kingsley replied stiffly, knocking perfunctorily on the door of the master bedchamber.

At the muffled sound of William’s voice saying “come in”, Samantha nearly swooned. He had truly returned. Yet before she had time to compose herself, Alexander stepped around the housekeeper and into William’s room, dragging her behind him in a tight, painfulgrip.

“Alexander,” she muttered, annoyed. “I am not acart.”

Then a glorious sight filled her vision, and she forgot all about herarm.

William. In his bed, alive andwell.

A whimper escaped, followed by a sob as pure joy surged through her body. Dare she believe he was real? The only way to find out was to touch him, hold him, and she leaped forward to hurl herself onto the large bed, desperate to burrow against him and never, ever move again.

Until she saw his expression was one of complete disgust.

Halting, her hands twisting together as Mrs. Kingsley’s cryptic words repeated over and over in her head, Samantha stared back at William. Had he found out about her knife-throwing in Hyde Park? Or worse, about the baby she carried and wanted nothing to do withher?

“William?” she whispered shakily, terror twisting her stomach into knots.

“Ah. If it isn’t the Duke of Southby and his pregnant mistress,” he answered frigidly, his handsome face expressionless but his fingers gripping his blankets as though resisting the urge to knock them both into next week. “Or have you done the decent thing and proposed, your grace? Either way you are cluttering my bedchamber, and knowing how busy the two of you are together, I can only urge you to leave. Now.”

* * *

It almost madeWilliam want to laugh, the utter shock on their faces. And the way Samantha had flinched at his words as though he’d slapped her. What the hell had they expected, brazenly marching into his chamber holding hands? Warm congratulations on their news and an invitation totea?

“You still haven’t departed,” he snarled. “Do you need to be escortedout?”

Samantha paled and groaned, dashing across the room and falling onto her knees in front of an empty chamberpot.

Tsking rather sympathetically, Mrs. Kingsley, the latest addition to his list of betrayers, bustled into the room, soaked a cloth in the washstand and then leaned down to hold it to her forehead. “Dear, dear. ’Tis a terrible thing, the nausea, is itnot?”

“Mrs. Kingsley, if Lady Samantha is unwell, it is Southby’s problem. Not yours.”

“I will assist whomeverI—”