Page 19 of His Scottish Duchess

Sampson’s smirk faded, and he sighed dramatically. “Not this again.”

“Yes, this again.” Frederick’s jaw tightened. “You were being unreasonable.”

“I was being practical,” Sampson corrected. “There was no reason to turn my wedding into a social gathering.”

Frederick scowled, clearly disliking the impression Sampson had of his intentions. “Eleanor would have helped Catherine. Did you not think about that?”

Sampson laughed, truly befuddled by the idea. “You make it sound as though my wife is some trembling fawn, unable to stand on her legs.”

“She left her family and the only home she’d ever known, and traveled across the country—all to marry a man she does not know.” Frederick arched an eyebrow. “A man who—shall I remind you—she saw saying his farewells to the women he had bedded as she arrived.”

Sampson smirked at the memory. “Ah, yes. A rather dramatic entrance on her part, wasn’t it?”

Frederick gave him a flat look. “You never expected her to show up, did you?”

“Of course not. Can you think of any sane father who would deem me a suitable husband for their daughter? Even as a last resort?”

Frederick exhaled, shaking his head. “Perhaps your reputation does not precede you as much as we thought.”

Sampson chuckled. “Apparently not.” He tipped his glass in Frederick’s direction. “But tell me, if you’re so concerned about my wife, why not go visit her yourself?”

Frederick didn’t rise to the bait. “Because I know you, Sampson. I know that you will make the necessary provisions for her comfort and well-being. And I know that despite all your games—and general love for mischief—you will not take another woman to your bed while you’re married.”

Sampson hummed in amusement. “Speaking of the things I may or may not be capable of. Catherine had the gall to command me not to bring another woman into our marriage.”

“Did she?” Frederick exclaimed in surprise. “And I suppose you found that amusing.”

“Immensely,” Sampson replied, his eyes twinkling. “She has a rather feisty spirit, I’ll give her that.”

Catherine was turning out to be more than he could ever have imagined. Her spirit intrigued and challenged him, and he found himself constantly preoccupied with thoughts of her and her flushed cheeks and bright, uncertain eyes. It was strange, how fixated he had become on all matters concerning his wife.

“What a pair you both make. Eleanor will be pleased to know you haven’t scared her off.” Frederick sighed in mild relief.

“How is your dear wife? Is she ready to admit that I am the best between us both?” Sampson questioned, refilling their glasses.

“Do not be ridiculous,” Frederick chastised without heat, nodding in thanks. “Eleanor is doing well. As is Maxim. There is nothing he loves more than following his mother around. Eleanor is so thrilled to have a miniature gardener with her at all times. When he’s not in awe of the vibrant flowers in our garden, he’s curled up on my lap while I work in my study. He does seem awfully attached, and I wonder if it will be a problem when he gets older.”

Although Frederick had only been a father for a short time, the way his face softened whenever he spoke of his son was proof enough of his devotion. It was clear that he’d known no greater wonder or joy—not including his wife, of course—in his life.

Sampson, for his part, listened with mild interest. He was glad for his friend. Truly. Frederick’s life had been difficult, and it had been very rewarding, watching him find the happiness he deserved.

But fatherhood was not something Sampson desired for himself. After all, he could barely attest to being a good child himself. Should he entertain ideas of fatherhood when he did not even meet the requirements?

The conversation continued into the night, but in the back of his mind, Sampson couldn’t quite shake away thoughts of his wife.

She truly was unlike anyone he had ever met. He had not expected her to be so bold, so stubborn. And yet he found that he admired those parts of her, and he thought she was quite intriguing to be around.

Especially when she had laid down a condition for their marriage, asking for nothing more than fidelity. The very same fidelity he had already promised to her as soon as they were married.

He knew many women who did not mind sharing their men with others, as long as they would come back to them. But Catherine wanted to be the only one he went to, the only one to grace his bed.

Although she had not said as much, she did not deny it or refuse him when he asked for her company.

You really are something else, Sampson mused, downing the rest of his drink.

“You are still having difficulties sleeping, aren’t you?” Frederick asked suddenly, his voice softening, the words a gentle probe. “I have found something that might help.”

Sampson’s smile faded, replaced by a hint of weariness, the shadows of sleepless nights etched beneath his eyes.

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