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She squared her shoulders. “Let’s get in there,” she said. “Best to get the whole thing over with.”

He looked at her for a moment, then nodded and followed her toward the door.

The foyer was crowded with guests, many of whom Amanda did not know. She was grateful for that, because it was easier to lie to strangers. If she’d had to spend the whole evening in close conversation with Dorothy, she feared the truth of her current plight might have spilled out. She didn’t want this evening to turn into a discussion of the trouble in her marriage. In fact, she didn’t want to discuss it at all. Dorothy would be much kinder and more supportive than her father had been, of course, but she wouldn’t actually be able to help. The only thing that would help would be a discussion with Sampson.

I’ll talk about it with him. Until I do that, I won’t talk to anyone else.

Sampson glanced at her. “Should we part company?” he asked. “That way we can speak to more people.”

Meaning that he didn’t want to spend time with her. No doubt they would be seated together at dinner. That was probably all he could stand. “It sounds like a perfect plan to me,” she said, lifting her chin. She wouldn’t try to beg for his attention.

She turned and walked the other way before he could change his mind, accepting a glass of wine from a member of the staff. Taking up a position near one of the fat columns that stretched from floor to ceiling, she surveyed the room, looking for someone she might be able to pass her time talking to. But most of the people here were couples, and although some of them had divided in two the way she and Sampson had, she could guess that approaching them would mean inviting a conversation about marriage.

If only there was a very young person here, with whom I might strike up a conversation about animals, the way I do with Rose.

Perhaps that was what she was best suited for—conversing with children. It was too bad, then, that she didn’t have and would never have children of her own.

But Rose is enough for me.

She thought of the offer Sampson had once made, to give her children if she wanted them. He was probably relieved that circumstances had changed and that he wouldn’t have to. It was impossible to imagine the two of them raising a child together now.

She gazed around the room. How had she made such a mess of her life? Married twice, and neither marriage could be called a success. Caretaker to a child she couldn’t seem to provide for.

And yet, if I look at all the choices I've made, would I change any of them? Would I do anything differently? She was pretty sure that the answer was no, and that only made things more complicated.

The crowd parted, and a familiar face appeared across the room, driving those thoughts out of her mind.

What is he doing here? Why would Dorothy have invited him? She had to find Sampson, to let him know that they needed to leave at once.

But it was too late.

Lord Oakwell had spotted her, and he was making his way in her direction.

Through a combination of fortunate events, Amanda was able to avoid Lord Oakwell, at least for a while. The call to dinner had come while he was moving toward her, permitting her to hurry into the dining room and pretend she hadn’t seen him.

To her chagrin, she hadn’t been seated with Sampson after all. Dorothy had apparently decided it would be a fun adventure to split the couples up at dinner, so she was seated between two people she hardly knew, and Sampson was further down the table. It meant that she wasn’t able to talk to him, to find out whether or not he had noticed Lord Oakwell’s presence. She didn’t see Lord Oakwell at dinner, but the table was large, and he might have simply been out of her line of sight.

Or perhaps he had gone somewhere else. That theory gained credibility when he appeared again once the dinner was over and the guests were moving toward the ballroom for after-dinner drinks. He caught Amanda by the elbow before she had time to notice what he was doing and steered her toward the doors.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, tugging at his grip to try to free her arm.

“Just taking you out into the garden.” He gave her a smile that felt sinister. “It’s lovely this time of year. You’ll like to see it.”

She tried to pull away again, but his grip was too firm, and by the time she thought to call out for aid, he was already pulling her through the doors. They were out on the garden path, utterly on their own. If anyone else meant to come walking here, they had not yet seized the moment.

His grip on her arm loosened, but did not release, as he hustled her along until they were out of sight and earshot of the door. “It’s a privilege to see you again,” he said, leering.

She tugged at her arm, and this time he let her go free. “What are you thinking, bringing me out here like this?” she demanded. “I am a married lady.”

His insincere smile dropped. “Do you think you need to remind me of that fact, Lady Amanda?”

“It’s Your Grace.”

“But perhaps not for very long, if your father is to be believed,” he said. “Dear, dear. Things with the duke are already beginning to fail, are they? I could see that he wasn’t much of a man. Tell me, was it his scars that put you off of him? He is hard to look at, and I imagine even more difficult from the perspective of a wife. If I had that in my bed each night I would also want to end my marriage. Still, it must be difficult for you to have two failed marriages at such a young age.”

“My first husband died, you oaf.”

“Your father says you might be in the market soon enough for something new,” Lord Oakwell said.