Page 28 of His Scottish Duchess

She continued to sift through the portraits, pulling out another that looked like it had been done long before the first. This one had a man and a woman in it, with the woman seated demurely in a chair in front of the man. The man had Sampson’s eyes, and the woman had his hair.

“Och,” Catherine mumbled, staring at the portrait. “They must be his parents.”

She studied their expressions, wondering if she could find out more about them from the way their gazes seemed to bore through the canvas. But all she could do was stare at them and try to make heads or tails of the situation. There was something about their countenance that filled her with distrust, and she quickly set the portrait aside and picked another.

This one appeared to be a family portrait, with the parents sitting down on a chair and two boys standing behind them.

Catherine recognized Sampson immediately, clearly far more familiar with his facial features than she would have initially presumed. However, when she studied the other boy, it was clear that he bore some resemblance to the former Duke.

Sampson has… a younger braither?

“Anna?” she called, unable to take her eyes off the boy’s face, quite perturbed by his hollow, sad expression.

“Yes, Your Grace?” Anna responded, scurrying over to her side.

Catherine pointed at the boy’s face and then gestured to her husband’s. “The Duke has a brother? Why did ye not mention this before? Where is he now?”

Anna blinked in surprise, peering closer at the portrait. “Oh goodness—it appears he does! My apologies, Your Grace. I did not inform you because I had no prior knowledge of this,” she replied, looking simultaneously in awe and extremely confused.

“That’s not possible—I thought ye said that ye had worked here for over a year,” Catherine pointed out, also growing confused.

“Two years, to be exact.” Anna nodded. “But during my time here, I have never heard anyone mention the Duke’s brother.”

Mrs. Starling walked towards them then, her arms laden with heavy-looking books. Anna reached forward to help lessen her burden, and Catherine decided to ask someone she was sure would have answers for her.

“Mrs. Starling, where do ye think the Duke’s brother is?”

The housekeeper faced her, her raised eyebrow telling her that she would have more questions for her than answers.

“What do you mean, Your Grace? What brother?”

Catherine pointed at the portrait, growing a little frustrated.

She was only just realizing that her desire to get to know her husband a little more ran deeper than she had initially thought. And as someone who loved her family so much, it irked her how she had married into another and had little idea who they were or what they were like.

It was humiliating, almost, realizing that despite everything that had transpired between them, Sampson had succeeded in keeping a wall between them, managing to keep away his life while intruding on hers.

“This one here. This is a family portrait, is it nae? Are those nae the former Duke and Duchess? The Duke’s parents? Why would they include a complete stranger in their family portrait, eh?” she asked.

“They wouldn’t…” Mrs. Starling replied. “But I have not heard about the Duke having a brother.” She peered closer at the portrait. “A younger brother, for that matter.”

“How is that possible?” Catherine questioned, exasperated.

“The Duke has never once mentioned having a brother. He barely speaks about his parents—prefers to refer to his father as his predecessor than anything else. I know I am meant to have all the answers, Your Grace, and I apologize for disappointing you. But you see, I only came to the estate two years after the Duke inherited the dukedom. And by then, he had gotten rid of the staff that served his father,” the housekeeper replied gently.

The longer Catherine thought about it, the less it made sense. What would her husband want to hide so much that he would go to such lengths?

“But why?—”

“Pardon me, Your Grace.”

Catherine turned around as the butler came up the stairs, looking a little out of breath as he finally got into the attic.

“Oswald? Are ye all right? Ye look as though ye are about to faint,” she said in concern.

The butler nodded his head, but he continued to huff and puff, trying to catch his breath.

“Your Grace… I have been—I have—dear God—” he wheezed, looking alarmingly flushed.

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