Page 38 of His Scottish Duchess

Though, truthfully, a restless energy simmered beneath his composed exterior. He couldn’t deny that he had been anticipating this evening with a strange mixture of excitement and… something else he couldn’t quite name.

He shifted his weight, adjusting his crisp white cravat. He had seen Catherine in her finery before, of course. However, it had been their wedding day. There was something undeniably thrilling about the anticipation of a grand ball, of seeing her amidst the glittering ton, that had him more on edge than he cared to admit. He had told her to dress with the goal of impressing everyone. He was now realizing that he should have been more specific.

She should only aim to impress him.

After what felt like countless minutes, she finally appeared.

As Catherine descended the stairs, Sampson’s breath caught in his throat, startled by the vision that she was. The gown, a shimmering emerald green silk, draped her figure with a grace that made his hands itch to tear it off her. The color made her auburn hair shimmer with an almost ethereal glow, and the gleaming emeralds at her throat and ears made her green eyes sparkle like precious jewels.

He felt a surge of something heavy and all-consuming—which he quickly tamped down. But it was hard not to feel so much at the sight of her so radiant, so utterly captivating. His Duchess was good at making it difficult to maintain his carefully constructedfaçade of indifference, and to his surprise, it intrigued him, rather than bothered him.

“Well,” he drawled as she reached him, “it seems you have taken my advice to heart. Did you find it absolutely necessary to wear something that would surely turn every head in the room?”

Catherine’s lips curved into a soft smile. “The only attention I wish to draw is already mine,” she replied, her voice laced with a playful boldness that made his heart skip a beat. “And it belongs to my husband.”

Sampson felt a strange itch in his chest, a fluttering sensation that he quickly dismissed as indigestion. He let his gaze wander over his beautiful wife once more.

He was pleasantly surprised by her forwardness and aimed to reward her in kind.

“My attention is all yours, whenever you desire it,” he said, his voice a touch huskier than he intended.

She blushed, her cheeks taking on a delicate pink that only seemed to enhance her beauty—much to his irritation.

He offered her his arm, and she took it, her fingers light on his sleeve as he led her to the waiting carriage, the silence between them charged with tension.

It was when they were comfortably seated inside the carriage and well on their way that Sampson found something to say.

“Enjoy yourself, Catherine,” he said simply. “Don’t concern yourself too much with the machinations of the ton. Do not worry about their concerns or their impression of you. They are not worth the hassle. And I will be by your side all evening.”

Catherine smiled softly at him and nodded. “All right. I will do as you ask and trust you.”

The carriage rattled through the London streets, and soon they arrived at the home of their hosts.

Sampson had mentioned that the host was a business partner, and as such, making an appearance at the event was a sign of good faith.

“Usually, I would rather avoid events like these,” he told her as they walked down the hall towards the grand ballroom. “They tend to do nothing but wear me out, so I do not make a habit of attending unless it is absolutely necessary. However, since this ball is being hosted by a potentially invaluable partner, I must yield, just this once.”

They reached the top of the stairs, and after a nod in the direction of the master of ceremonies, the man nodded back and announced, “The Duke and Duchess of Rosehall!”

It seemed as though the chatter intensified, spreading curiosity as Sampson led them down the stairs into the sea of guests.

Catherine clung to him tightly, both thrilled and overwhelmed to be at such a social event. The ball was brightly lit, and the air was filled with music and conversation, providing the guests with several forms of entertainment in one setting. The din made Catherine miss her family, as she was sure it was something they would have enjoyed greatly.

She could feel Sampson’s gaze on her, a constant, unwavering presence. His hand rested on the small of her back, his steady, warm touch sending a shiver down her spine. Although the touch was light, it felt as if the heat of his palm was on her bare skin, rather than the layers of silk and lace. She tried to ignore the sensation, to focus on the glittering chandeliers and the elegantly dressed guests, but it was impossible.

Just as it had begun to overwhelm her senses, a beautiful woman approached her with a smile.

“These balls do tend to be overwhelming, do they not?” she asked, startling Catherine slightly.

She glared at Sampson playfully and made a shooing motion at him, and to Catherine’s surprise, he sighed and lowered his possessive hand.

“I am quite familiar with their tactics. Welcome to London, Duchess. I am Eleanor Montague, the Duchess of Ironvale.”

It was a pleasant surprise to meet a fellow duchess, and Catherine couldn’t help the glee spreading through her.

“Oh, how do you do? I am Catherine Richards, the Duchess of Rosehall. But I suppose you already knew that.” Catherine smiled shyly. “Pleased to meet you, Duchess.”

“The pleasure is all mine! You have no clue how long we’ve kept our fingers crossed that Sampson would finally find a wife. It feels as though we’re witnessing nothing short of a miracle in this moment. My husband was the only one who got to attend your wedding. How are you settling into London?”

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