She told herself she didn’t care if she were scrutinized by the masses. There were plenty of other reasons for them to fix their attention upon her.
Like the fact that her husband was Adrian Croft and that this was his first entry into Society since he’d been pardoned last year. A reminder that made her own concerns seem incredibly small.
So she rolled her shoulders back and raised her chin, the pride in being the woman he’d decided to marry expanding her heart. This was the man she’d chosen to walk side by side with through life. She’d die for him if it came to that, kill for him too if needed. The same was true of their child.
Next to that, the rest of the world became insignificant.
“So lovely to see you again,” said Lady Moorland when Samantha and Adrian finally greeted her and her husband. The marchioness’s warm gaze swept over Samantha, lingering briefly on her abdomen before returning to her face. She smiled. “You look well, Mrs. Croft. May I ask when you’re due?”
“Toward the end of June, according to Doctor Wolf’s estimation,” Samantha replied.
“The time between now and then will go quickly,” said the marquess. A wry look filled his eyes as he asked Adrian, “Are you prepared?”
“Is one ever prepared to become a parent?” the marchioness countered with a mild chuckle.
“People have been having children since the beginning of time,” Adrian muttered. “I believe we’ll manage.”
“Of course you will,” Moorland said, though his expression suggested he was enjoying his own private joke. “For our part, we look forward to meeting your son, or daughter, once they arrive.”
“Should you have any questions,” Lady Moorland said to Samantha, “you need only ask. Having brought three children of my own into the world, I’m happy to advise you in any way I can.”
With no mother to turn to, Samantha appreciated the offer and thanked her for it before she and Adrian moved off, leaving the Moorlands to speak with other guests.
Adrian threw a look over his shoulder after they’d gone a few paces, then dipped his head and quietly asked, “Am I missing something?”
“About what?” She’d spotted the refreshment table and was eager to head in that direction.
“Parenthood,” he clarified. “Moorland made it sound like it will be unexpectedly difficult.”
“Aren’t most new experiences challenging to begin with?” She glanced at him while steering him toward the awaiting tarts she’d spied. “As you said, we’ll manage.”
“Hmm…”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“I’m just wondering if we ought to be making more preparations. With the whole Finn O’Leary business to deal with, I must confess my attention has been elsewhere these past weeks.”
She arched a brow at him. To say his attention had been elsewhere was a bit of an understatement. She’d never seen him more on edge. After the stolen crates of wine and champagne, O’Leary had once again managed to catch Adrian by surprise.
Chapman of all people, the explosives expert who made up part of Adrian’s crime syndicate, was the man who’d brought the stabbing at The Mad Bull tavern to his attention. Apparently Chapman and his cousins had gone to the tavern to watch the fights that evening. They’d been there when someone realized the man slumped over in one corner was dead.
When Chapman had described the man he suspected — the man the victim had fought in the ring – Samantha was sure it had been O’Leary.
Kendrick confirmed it later when he stopped by to let Adrian know of the new threat London faced. The note in the dead man’s pocket had made that abundantly clear.
Let this be a warning to any man daring enough to cross Finn O’Leary.
It had been signed with O’Leary’s full name so there was no confusion about who had done this.
In the days that followed Adrian had grown increasingly tense. He spoke with Murry in private, and whenever Samantha left the house, Turner and Ward now accompanied her as well. It was clear that Adrian expected O’Leary to make his next move. When Samantha brought it up, however, it was also clear that Adrian had no idea what such a move might entail.
And then…
Nothing happened.
Granted, Chapman did say O’Leary had been severely injured during his fight with the man he’d killed. He’d need time to recover. Yet as the days had come and gone with still no glimpse of as much as his shadow, discomfort set in.
It felt as though they were sitting prey waiting for an imminent attack with no clue about which direction it might arrive from or when. Despite Adrian putting all his associates on alert, no one had managed to figure out where O’Leary resided. As such, the man was able to bide his time and calmly prepare his next move.
