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“I had that same experience,” Dorothy assured her. “It does start to feel more natural after a while, don’t worry. One day someone will say it and you’ll answer without even thinking. Although I know right now that probably feels like a very far-off thing.”

“It does, but I believe you,” Amanda told her friend. “It will give me something to look forward to. I’m glad to know that there’s that feeling in my future.”

Sampson hadn’t realized that Amanda was having such a difficult time adjusting. He, too, was fairly new to his title, having only taken it up after his father’s death had summoned him home from the war. But it didn’t feel so odd to him. Perhaps that was because he had grown up in his father’s house, always knowing that he would be duke one day. It was still a bit of a surprise to realize that it had actually happened, but it was nothing he hadn’t thought about before. He’d spent his entire life thinking about it.

Amanda has probably never imagined being a duchess. George was not a duke, and once she married him, she probably never thought about having another husband…until very recently.

He watched her as she laughed with Dorothy, as she smiled at Nathaniel. She was radiant. She was every inch the perfect duchess. If he could have dreamed up a wife, he thought, this was what he would have come up with—someone charming, someone with the social graces to carry a conversation so that he wasn’t forced to step into every interaction and speak on her behalf. She would do just fine if he wasn’t here at all.

It was funny. He had just been thinking what a favorable quality of hers that was…and suddenly he found that he didn’t like it one bit.

I want her to need me. I don’t want her to feel as if she’s just fine without me by her side.

Without thinking, he stepped forward and put an arm around her, his hand coming to rest on her waist.

She froze momentarily at his touch, having not expected it, and he almost drew back. What had he been thinking, putting a hand on her like this? There was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that they were going to present themselves as a couple in love, in the throes of wedded bliss, but this was different. He could stand by her, dance with her, show that he was proud of her, without indulging in such intimate contact.

He pulled his hand away.

For a distraction, he turned and surveyed the rest of the room. They’d been right in their predictions about the attention they would get. People were looking their way. As he watched, a lady leaned over to her friend, her eyes locked on Sampson, and whispered something. She wasn’t even trying to disguise the fact that she was talking about him.

It should have bothered him, but for some reason, it didn’t. Sampson’s mind was occupied with other things.

He was unaccountably aware of the woman standing next to him. Without even looking at her, he perceived every move she made, even the rise and fall of her breath. He had no idea when he had become so alert to her. Was it just that they were out together for the first time and he felt a duty of care?

That must be it. What else could it be?

Still, he was uneasy about how distracted he felt in her presence. People were clearly talking about them, and he couldn’t even bring himself to care. The whole reason he had agreed to come to this ball had been to confront the rumors people might be spreading and to put a good face on things. Now he was here, and he couldn’t even bring himself to take notice of them.

“Should we get a drink?” Dorothy asked.

Amanda nodded eagerly. “That sounds lovely,” she said.

Sampson took her by the arm quickly. It was only after they had begun walking that he wondered what his rush had been. Why had he been so anxious to take her arm? He had done so almost as if he was fearful that she was in danger, but, of course, he wasn’t worried about that. The only danger here lay in the possibility of wagging tongues, and that wasn’t going to be helped by holding her arm.

I just wanted to. I just wanted to be close to her.

A prickle of unease ran down his spine.

This marriage wasn’t supposed to be about satisfying his desire to be near a woman. He had done this for George’s sake, not because he wanted to take George’s wife. He wasn’t supposed to feel that way about her.

Was it a betrayal?

He wasn’t sure. He only knew that it made him uncomfortable to register these feelings in himself.

“Here we are.” Dorothy had reached the drinks. She picked up two and handed them to Amanda and Sampson. Then she turned back and collected two more, one of which she gave to her own husband. “Lord and Lady Kensington really outdid themselves this year, don’t you think? I heard they spent twice as much money as usual on the flowers alone.”

Amanda laughed. “I haven’t had occasion to throw any parties yet,” she said. “But I’m sure that when the time comes, I’ll feel as if I need to live up to this one. The flowers are beautiful.” She turned to Sampson. “Don’t you think the flowers are lovely? I told Rose I would try to get one so that I could bring it back for her. Don’t let me forget.”

“Excuse me.” Someone leaned behind Amanda, reaching for a drink.

Sampson acted without thinking. He wrapped his arms around Amanda and pulled her close so that her body was pressed against his. She let out a gasp, but didn’t resist.

A moment later he registered what he had done and released her, setting her back on her feet.

“What was that?” she murmured.

Sampson looked around. No one else seemed to have registered that anything strange had happened. The only person who’d noticed the interaction at all was Dorothy, and she was smiling as if she’d accidentally witnessed something sweet that wasn’t meant for her eyes—not as if Sampson had done something shocking or inappropriate.