Ruined by a Lady
(Spirited Storms #3)
(The Spirited Storms)
(A Novella)
** Previously published in Evading the Duke ***
There is nothing Samuel Storm wants more than to leave London behind
him and return to his plantation in Barbados, until he sees a portrait come to
life. At least he’s fairly certain the girl across St. Paul's is the same one
depicted in the scandalous painting he owns back in the Caribbean. But how can
he be sure? And why would a lady pose for such a painting?
Nathaniel,
You and Samuel must
return home immediately. The most horrendous circumstance has occurred and I am
so beside myself that I do not know what to do. It is far too distressing to
even write in a letter. Suffice it to say, nothing this horrific has happened to
our family in a very long time, and your presence is needed most urgently.
Mother
CHAPTER 1
April 18, 1817, London
Samuel
Storm sucked in a breath the moment those familiar blues eyes met his. It had
to be her. But how was it even possible?
He
took a step in her direction but Nathaniel, his twin brother, placed a hand on
his arm and handed him the missive that had been delivered as soon as they
stepped out of St. Paul’s Cathedral. Sam took it without removing his eyes from
her. The late afternoon sun shone on her head, making it appear as if her blonde
locks were laced with gold, and for a moment she glanced back. Her haunting
Caribbean blue eyes met his before she was assisted into a carriage displaying
the Duke of Eldridge’s coat of arms. An older man stood waiting. By his regal
bearing, no doubt he was Eldridge.
Either
the duke’s daughter at one time sat for a rather scandalous portrait, or a
woman who looked exactly like her had. That very portrait hung in his home in
Barbados, and Sam needed to know if the two were one and the same.
With
reluctance, Sam tore his eyes away from the duke’s carriage and glanced at the
missive. The one thing that had not changed in the five years he’d been gone
was the habit of his mother to succumb to hysterics.
“What
could be so blasted important that she thought it appropriate to pull us from a
wedding?” Nate demanded.
Sam
handed the summons back to his brother who promptly crushed it in his fist.
“At
least the footman ignored her dictate and waited until we exited the church or
you might have missed the wedding you stood to witness for Roxburg,” Nate
grumbled.
Sam
and Mark Easton, the Duke of Roxburg, had been friends for a number of years.
The last five of which they’d lived in Barbados, each managing their own sugar
plantations. Life had been good living on an island of beautiful women when one
was wealthy and a bachelor. Roxburg’s sudden change in title was what brought
them back to London. Not that Sam needed to return, but Roxburg had wanted the
one gentleman he trusted by his side when facing society once again. Not that
he needed Sam. In the month that Sam was away visiting his family, Roxburg had
met his wife, and the two had married just a short time ago.
“Let’s
make it quick,” Sam was resigned to deal with their mother, but waste no more
time than necessary on whatever crisis had arisen. He and Nate had planned on
going to their club until it was time for the ball. Roxburg managed to obtain a
Special License so that he could be married at the earliest time the church was
available, which happened to be today at five. He had also decided to forgo the
wedding breakfast in lieu of a ball, which he insisted would begin in a few
hours and not late in the evening as was tradition.
“If
Mother starts going on and on about torn flounces, stained gloves, or spilled
tea at the al fresco, I swear I’ll send her right back home and let Ben deal
with our sisters.” Benjamin, the Earl of Kenley, their older brother, could see
to their three younger sisters attending the Season.
“I’d
hate to see her reaction if something actually horrific occurred,” Sam grumbled after he followed his brother into
the carriage and relaxed against the squabs. As he glanced out the window, the
duke’s carriage passed and his eyes met those all too familiar blue eyes.
Could
it really be her?
He’d
first spied the painting in a gallery in New Orleans and knew instantly that he
must have it. Not so much because of the lush body that lay in repose upon a
fainting coach, a long leg extended and uncovered, though white gossamer
shielded the rest of her body, or because of the delicious breasts practically
spilled from a fitted corset, or the full, red lips beckoning for a kiss. Not
only did he want that woman on his own couch, clad similarly, but he wanted to
know her too. Those blue eyes conveyed innocence, seduction, spirit,
vulnerability, rebellion, and sadness that pulled him in. He longed to ask why
sadness lurked in the deep recesses of her blue irises. Why her mouth may tip
at the corner when there was no happiness? Why was she haunted?
It
was ridiculous, of course. The girl was a model and the artist was simply
excellent at his craft. Yet, when Sam spied the lady in St. Paul’s Church, not
only did the same emotion lurk in her eyes, but the sadness seemed deeper.
Yes,
she smiled, but it was forced. The tension in her jaw betrayed what she was
trying not to show.
Did
nobody else realize she wasn’t happy?
He
needed to know her.
Just because the lady in the painting bore a striking resemblance
to Eldridge’s daughter, it was impossible that it was her. A duke’s daughter
did not pose for erotic paintings, yet Sam felt the same pull towards
Eldridge’s daughter as he had experienced when he first viewed the painting, and
he had every intention of gaining an introduction.
The carriage pulled up before their townhouse and the gentlemen
jumped out and hurried to the door. Not because Sam believed distressing news
awaited them, but because he wanted to be done with whatever had fluffed mother’s
feathers this time.
They found their mother, the Dowager Countess of Kenley, in the
sitting room with three of their younger sisters. Hannah was pacing as if she
were too agitated to sit. Tabitha was stitching, which he learned she often did
when there was little else to occupy her time, and Deborah simply sat in a
chair by the window, watching the others as if in deep contemplation.
His oldest brother, Benjamin, relaxed with his lovely and
enchanting wife, Mary, sipping tea. It certainly didn’t appear as if there was
anything urgent that required his or Nate’s attention, which he already
suspected would be the case.
“What happened?” Nate demanded, his tone laced with the irritation
Sam felt.
“We were at Lady Emma Heathfield’s al fresco when we saw him.”
“Who?” Sam asked. He had not been back in England all that long,
but nobody had uttered a word about any gentleman his mother feared.
“I didn’t know what to do, so of course, we left immediately.” His
mother waived a handkerchief in front of her face. “Oh, I do hope he didn’t see us. Though it was highly
rude to leave so quickly without paying our respects to Lady Heathfield, but it
was necessary given the circumstances. I must send her a note of apology right
away.”
“Stop!” Nate yelled. “Who did you see that has you so upset?”
Her eyes widened and she looked at them. “His Grace! The Duke of
Danby.”
“I
don’t understand why this is important.” He was a
duke. Wasn’t he required to be here with Parliament in session, and what the
blazes did his great-uncle being in London have to do with them? “You do
realize I was at the wedding of my closest friend. I stood as a witness.”
His
mother’s eyes grew wide. “But, it is the Duke of Danby.”
“I
don’t care if it’s the Crown Prince,” Samuel yelled as he turned for the door.
Of all the ridiculous nonsense. He needed a drink and only in a place where reasonable
gentlemen were allowed.
“But,
you don’t understand,” their mother cried.
“What
the blazes is there to understand?” Nate demanded.
“He’s
going to ruin everything.”
Sam
turned just in time to see his mother’s eyes fill with tears.
“He’ll
ruin my family.”
Ben
stood and assisted Mary to her feet. “My wife and I are going for a drive in
the park.”
“But,
but, but….” their mother sputtered.
Ben
didn’t look back and stopped before his brothers. “As I need to deal with this
all of the time because neither one of you can be bothered to remain in
England, you now have the pleasure of calming her while I enjoy the afternoon
with my wife, which was ruined by her early return.”
“Forget
him,” the Duke of Eldridge ordered his daughter.
Lady
Jillian Simpson blinked at her father hoping her face conveyed innocence.
“Who?”
“That
gentleman you kept looking at in the church.” Her father frowned. “He’s beneath
you.”
She
knew better than to argue or question him further. Father had very specific
ideas about who he believed was worthy of her, not that she’d managed to marry
any of them. Save one, but as nobody knew of the marriage, they weren’t aware
of the annulment either. It’s as if it never happened.
“It’s
bad enough that those Valentines are marrying titles while you remain unwed, but
I will not tolerate them marrying better than you.”
They’d
just left the wedding of the Duke of Roxburg and Miss Bianca Valentine, which
meant Jillian had better set her cap on a duke. She no longer gave a wit of
what title a gentleman may or may not have, but even her father must realize
that finding an eligible duke to marry might be rather difficult. It wasn’t as
if they grew on trees, waiting to be picked.
“That
man you were watching is Mr. Samuel
Storm.” The mister was said with disgust. “His older brother is the Earl of
Kenley and there is another brother between Mr. Storm and the title.”
Heaven
forbid she marry a mister. Her father would have an apoplexy. As much as the
idea of acting in such a rebellious manner would give her great pleasure, Jillian
did not have the nerve to face the inevitable consequences and thus accepted
her lot in life. As the daughter of a powerful duke, she would marry the
highest title she could attain, and settle into her role as lady, wife, and
eventual mother. All she could hope for was that she at least liked her
husband, instead of any of the lesser emotions like love. Father hadn’t loved her
mother, the daughter of an influential marquess, nor did he believe in its
existence.
Jillian
glanced out the window. Of course she thought she’d been in love once. She’d
been a fool. Young and naïve. Never would she love again.
“You
know who you are to charm, Jillian. You are two and twenty, and I will see you married to an acceptable
title before this Season is done.”
Taking a deep breath,
Jillian straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, shut down all emotions. The
cloak of superiority she’d fought in her youth had since become her most
comfortable persona and the strongest of armor. As long as she let no one in,
she would be safe. And, she must put Mr. Samuel Storm from her mind, if that
were possible. There had been something arresting in his clear emerald eyes
when they met hers. Almost a recognition, then delight and something else she
could not understand. Her breath had caught and her pulse sped. It wasn’t a
reaction she was familiar with, and she wished she knew what it meant. 
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