December 1822

“How long will the trip take?” Samantha asked.

Gray shrugged. Unlike her, he was lounging on the chaise in their dressing room while she flitted anxiously about the room, packing. “A few days. We’ll stop at nights, of course.” He watched her put a bonnet into a hatbox, bite her lip in worry, and put the bonnet back in the wardrobe. “Perhaps stop for a day or two. I’m not in any great hurry.”

“But it was so kind of your parents to invite us to spend the holidays with them at Salmsbury,” she protested. She’d been preparing for it for ages, too. Already packed in her large trunk were gifts for each member of the family, tied up in multicolored ribbons. Gray had said they weren’t necessary, but Samantha had persisted, combing London for the last two months until she was satisfied she had something suitable for everyone.

“If you say so.” He was laughing at her, the infuriating man, sitting there idly sketching while she worried over what to take. “It’s a sorry excuse for a wedding trip, if you ask me.”

“Oh no!” She abandoned her packing and came to cup her hands around his jaw, smiling helplessly at him. “You must know this is a wonderful idea. I’m so eager to become better acquainted with your family.”

They had been married almost five months now—five very eventful months since she had stood next to him at the altar in St. George’s. Samantha had known it was the beginning of a new life, but she’d had no idea how different that life would be.

Partly that was due to several twists of Fate, some wonderful… some not. On the side of wonderful, her brother Benedict was married—rather suddenly, but brilliantly, to Penelope Weston. Samantha was thrilled to have a new sister, especially one so bold and confident and besotted with her brother.

On the other side of the balance had come the shocking and unexpected death of her father. A fatal heart attack, striking out of the blue while he was on his yacht. At times Samantha could hardly believe he was gone. For weeks she’d woken in a terror, thinking he had survived and come to find her. Gray had always held her in his arms and soothed her until the panic subsided, but it would take a long time to obliterate the shadow Lord Stratford had cast over her life.

In fact, even though it made her feel cold and heartless, she wasn’t terribly sorry he was dead.

Because now Stratford Court was bright and warm with laughter and love. Maids hummed on the stairs as they dusted. Samantha’s mother came to breakfast in her morning gown, with her hair in a simple knot. Penelope and Benedict were frequently spotted kissing in some sheltered corner, or even in the middle of the hall. Samantha’s sister, Elizabeth, had come for the funeral, but then boldly decided to stay and have her baby there, with her mother at her side. It was as different as one could imagine, compared to the way things were before that fateful day she ran away to London and landed in Gray’s arms.

And on the morrow they would depart for Lancashire, to spend the holiday season at Salmsbury Abbey, the Duke of Rowland’s principal residence. Samantha had met Gray’s parents and brothers, but this would be her first chance to get to know them, and she was determined to make a good impression.

“It’s entirely their honor to have you,” Gray declared with a wink. “Although I hope we may have a quieter visit than we had in Richmond.”

Samantha fell silent and turned back to her packing. After her father's death, she and Gray had spent a month at Stratford Court. Lord Stratford’s exquisite art collection was discovered to contain several stolen pieces, smuggled out of France after the war with the help of a man named Lord Clary—an evil man who had nearly killed Penelope, when he thought she had information about more stolen paintings. Benedict wanted Clary disemboweled and his remains burnt to ash, but the coward fled town.

To help catch him, Gray agreed to copy a priceless Titian portrait of Saint George and the dragon. He’d painted for six straight days, almost without sleep, to get it done. Everyone, especially Samantha, had marveled at his work.

And then someone shot a hole in his painting and broke it to pieces. Gray said he was glad. Samantha was even happier that the plot worked, and Clary was currently in Newgate Prison.

“Yes, let us hope there are no art thieves at Salmsbury,” she said. “Although you’re quite as good a painter as Titian.”

He made a face, though she could tell he was pleased. “I’ve certainly got a much more beautiful model than he ever had.”

She laughed, her shoulders easing. He’d put her in several paintings, even the mural he’d painted on the dining room wall of their new house by Green Park. “Future generations will speak rapturously of your talent, but think you lacked imagination, always painting the same ordinary woman,” she teased.

“Ordinary!” He raised his brows. “You, Lady George, are extraordinary in every way.” He caught her hand and hauled her into his lap.

She put her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. She did want to know her new family but she was also nervous about spending a month with them. All three of Gray’s brothers had been at their wedding, but barely long enough to be introduced. The eldest, the Marquess of Westmorland, had departed almost as soon as they signed the register. Lady Westmorland was expecting her first child, and Gray had joked that Rob must have had his travel chaise waiting outside the church. The next eldest, Tom, had returned to his regiment in the army, and Will had stayed in town for a short while to buy horses before returning to Salmsbury. Only the Duke and Duchess had remained in London through the fall. “Tell me what to expect.”

“At Salmsbury?” His fingers stroked up and down her back. “It’s a massive pile of stone, befitting a former abbey, but without any monks or priests, thank God.”

“Is it not comfortable?”

“No, no, my mother has made sure it’s all quite modern and cozy. It’s just that Tom used to tell me and Will there were ghosts, and it is a very old building… ”

Samantha gasped. “No! Are there really ghosts?”

He hesitated. “I’m sure not.” He gave her an abashed look. “But we’re not going to the wine cellars. Tom once shut us up in a room down there and… well, I’m not going down there.”

“Of course not!” Her arms tightened around him. She knew what it was to be frightened, and even though she didn’t think Gray was truly scared of ghosts, she loyally resolved never to set foot in the wine cellars, not even on pain of death. “Who else will be there?” she asked instead. “Besides Terrible Tom?”

Gray laughed. “I hope you call him that! He’ll be there. And now he’s the only one left unmarried—sad, miserable wretch.” He leered at her. “I may have to incite my mother to badger him about that.”

She smiled. “Will he like me?”

“If he doesn’t want a fight, he will,” said Gray with amusement. “But I know he will. He generally likes women who aren’t trying to marry him.” He paused, then added, “Not that I could guess why anyone would try to marry Tom.”

She gave his hair a gentle tug. “I’ve already married the best of the brothers anyway. Who else?”

“Will, of course. He’s got a house of his own on the grounds of Salmsbury but will likely stay at the Abbey for the Christmas season.”

She beamed. She liked Will and his wife very much, although they’d only met a handful of times. “How lovely.”

“And of course Rob will be about.”

“Why do you call him Rob,” she wanted to know, “when everyone else in the family calls him West?”

“To tweak him,” he answered, making her laugh. “Because he was not born the Marquess of Westmorland. That was our father, until Grandfather died when I was about six or seven. Until then everyone called him Rob. Only I refused to change, when Father became the Duke and Rob stepped into the Westmorland title. The same way you called your brother Benedict instead of Atherton, I suppose.”

Her mood dimmed. “Ben didn’t want to be called Atherton, not by me or Elizabeth when we were young. He hated it because it reminded him he was Father’s heir.”

Gray sobered immediately. “That’s all over with.” He’d said that several times since her father’s death.

She managed to smile. “Yes. Tell me more about him.”

“Rob?” Gray pretended to think before giving a shrug. “An old married man. He’s not that interesting.”

“That can’t be true of any Churchill-Gray! I’ve met enough of you to know by now.”

He grinned. “There are rumors about how he met his wife, Georgiana. Shocking, scandalous rumors.”

“Really? What are they?”

Her husband settled her more comfortably on his lap. “One rumor is that she won his heart in a card game.”

“What? How could she win his heart in a card game?” she said, delighted and shocked at once.

Gray shrugged. “I’ve no idea. I suppose she beat him, and that brought Rob to his knees in a fit of awe and admiration. He always was an uncanny hand at cards.”

“Really?” Samantha was astonished. “No! Surely she wasn’t a cardsharp.”

“It’s even better if she were not and beat him nonetheless,” countered Gray. “I savor the image of her beating him, at any rate, whether or not it really happened. It was the talk of London when he married her. Everyone thought she was engaged to another man, and then Rob made off with her right from under the fellow’s nose.”

“Was there a scandal?”

“Of course. Rob used to cause scandals from dusk until dawn. Stealing someone else’s fiancée would be his coup de grâce.”

“What are the other rumors?” she asked with a laugh. Won his heart at a card game—how ridiculous! She was sure Gray was teasing about that.

“Tom once suggested she’d beaten him about the head and worked some sort of sorcery on him.”

“That’s a very unkind thing to say!” she exclaimed, sitting upright. “Why, he might make a similar charge against me—you had to rescue me from drowning in the river, and then you were forced to give up your rooms for me, and all along I lied to you—”

“A most splendid plot it was! Everything worked out exactly as I wanted it to happen.” He stole a quick kiss. “Tom was thoroughly foxed when he said it. After he sobered up and I asked him about it again, he denied saying anything like that.” He saw her face and quickly added, “Truly, he didn’t mean it! Tom’s one of those suspicious fellows who sees plots and scandal lurking around every corner—I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s got a secret life he’s keeping from everyone, and the strain of keeping his mouth closed overcame him one day. After all, it would take sorcery to get Tom into a church.”

“Don’t say that,” she said, torn between shock and indecent amusement.

Gray scoffed. “You’ll know it’s true, once you know Tom. And I promise you, he is very fond of Georgiana now.”

“Well, I hope he comes to like me, too,” she said, only partially reassured.

He lowered his voice. “To be perfectly honest, I suspect Tom’s mind is going. He’s the last one of us without a loving wife at his side, and once he sees how well I’ve married… Well, I fear his competitive spirit may cause him to combust on the spot in a fireball of hopeless envy.”

Samantha laughed, and he grinned, and she had to kiss him.

“So what is the truth about Rob and his lady?” she asked some minutes later.

“The truth,” he murmured, looking at her mouth. “The truth is that he’s desperately in love with his wife, and all for the better. He used to be quite a devil, notorious in London for his wild friends and high stakes gaming and infamous pranks. Now… ” Gray flicked one hand. “Now he’s utterly respectable.”

“And in the Home Office,” she added. It was the one detail she really knew about the Marquess of Westmorland.

“Dull and respectable,” said Gray under his breath.

“Being happily married is dull?” she exclaimed in amusement.

“No, being happily married is enthralling,” he growled. “My brother is dull—the whole lot of them are. Why are we talking about them at all?”

Samantha giggled as he nuzzled her neck. “Because I want to know what to expect, so that I can make a good impression. I do so want your family to like me, Gray…”

“My family,” said Gray firmly, “already adore you.”

“I haven’t even met them all!”

“You’ve met the worst of them, who all like you. The others are bound to greet you with cries of delight.”

“Stop,” she said, blushing even as she laughed.

His arm around her tightened. “They will adore you. Father is the hardest one to win, and you’ve got him eating out of your hand. He likes you better than he likes me.”

“Oh, no,” she said in horror.

Gray laughed. “Oh, yes, he most certainly does! But that’s quite all right by me—I completely understand it. I like you better than all the rest of them put together.”

She touched his chin, still caught off guard by how fortunate she’d been to fall into this man’s arms, and this man’s heart. “And I like you more than anyone else in this world.”

His dark eyes warmed. “Exactly the way I want it to be. If you tire of my family, or this visit, or the possibly haunted halls of Salmsbury, you have but to say the word and we’ll be off for Italy. I quite like the idea of making love to you in a palazzo overlooking the vineyards… ”

She smiled as he leaned in to nuzzle her neck, his lips whispering wicked, thrilling things against her skin. With a low growl he turned them both sideways, lowering her onto the chaise. His sketchbook slid to the floor as he did, the pencil clattering away, and Samantha caught a glimpse of the page. The sight made her gasp and lunge for the book.

“Leave it,” murmured her husband, his large hands running over her hips.

“Gray!” Pink-faced, she scrutinized the sketch. He’d drawn her, again—the man must have a dozen sketchbooks filled with nothing but images of her—reclining on this same chaise, with her hair loose and a dreamy smile on her face, her arms gently curved around her body. She turned it around accusingly. “Why did you draw me like this?”

His lips quirked and he gave a faint shrug. Samantha looked at the sketch again. He’d drawn her with a round, pregnant belly.

“How did you know?” she asked forlornly. “I meant to tell you at Christmas.” She had a silver rattle, engraved with their initials, hidden among the other gifts. She’d been pleasurably anticipating his reaction for three weeks.

“Tell me what?” he asked innocently.

She tapped the sketch, right on the charcoal curve of her belly, in silent reproach.

“Are you expecting?” he asked in a good imitation of delighted surprise. “Are you really? Samantha darling, that’s the most wonderful news!” He fell on her with a profusion of kisses.

“You already knew!” she accused him even as she smiled and untied his cravat.

“It was more of a guess,” he murmured against her throat. “A hopeful one.” His hand cupped her breast before sliding down to stroke her stomach. “It struck me the other night, when you were sitting naked on top of me, that you were a little bit plumper here… and here… But I might have been wrong, so allow me to take off this dress and make a closer study… ”

She burst out laughing, her arms around his neck. “Yes, you rogue, you guessed rightly. And now who shall be the boring and respectable old married man, with a wife and children?”

He smoothed his thumb over her mouth, his hands cupping her face. “I will never be bored with you, or with our children. You are more wonderful than I ever dreamed a wife could be.”

Her heart might burst. “I love you,” she whispered.

He grinned. “And that is the best gift you could ever give me.”

If you want to see Samantha and Gray again, they make an appearance in Six Degrees of Scandal.

Wondering how these books fit together? Gray is the youngest brother of Rob, the hero of When the Marquess Was Mine, in which is is revealed how Rob was beaten about the head, lost his mind, and won his wife's heart in a high-stakes card (which he lost).

The scandal that sent Samantha fleeing her home in the first place is described in It Takes a Scandal.

And if you are curious about Samantha's brother, Benedict, his story is Love in the Time of Scandal.