Page 42 of His Scottish Duchess

He stared at her in shock, clearly not expecting her to go along with his joke. She began to feel as though she had made a mistake, but then he laughed, lightheartedly and loudly.

“That is true. I am.” He smiled at her. “So, tell me, Duchess, what brings you to the study of your fortunate husband?”

Catherine inhaled deeply, sobering up when she recalled why she had come to see him.

“I came to thank you.”

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on her. “Thank me? For what, pray tell?”

“For defending me at the ball,” she said, her voice sincere. “I… I did not know what to expect, and I was quite concerned about the… reception I would receive.”

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “And were your concerns justified?”

“Perhaps,” she admitted, her gaze dropping to the intricate patterns on the rug. “But you… you made it clear that their opinions were of no consequence.”

She looked up at him, her green eyes earnest. “I was quite concerned about my ability to cope in a strange place and in a marriage with someone I knew nothing about. But, despite the entertainment ye find in my general discomfort, ye have shown me that ye will support me, and that means a great deal.” She paused, a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. “I did not know what would become of us, Sampson.”

Using his name felt foreign, yet it rolled off her tongue easily. She wanted to call him by his name some more, to experimentally drag it out to see how long it would take before it became second nature to her.

Sampson was silent for a moment, his gaze searching hers. Then, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

“And what do you think will become of us, Catherine?” he asked, his voice low.

She hesitated, unsure how to answer.

“I… I do not know. I still don’t know,” she admitted. “But I am grateful for your… your protection. And your care. There is so much I have felt since my arrival here, and you have shown me that perhaps I have fewer worries than I think I do.” She took a step back, preparing to leave. “Thank you, Your Grace. I should not keep you from your work.”

“Catherine,” he said, his voice stopping her in her tracks. “Stay.”

She turned back, her eyes questioning. “Your Grace?”

“Stay with me tonight,” he said, gesturing towards the chairs near the fireplace. “I find I am in need of some… distraction. You do not have to if you do not wish to. I know that up until now, I have merely instructed you to do what I want. And it is quite fair if you choose not to. But I would like you to stay.”

Catherine hesitated, a maelstrom of emotions swirling within her. She had come to thank him, to express her gratitude, and now the welcoming tone of his voice sent a wave of excitement through her, especially as she realized she would get to spend some time with him.

There was no reason not to accept his request, not when she could see the tired shadows beneath his eyes and the way his shoulders drooped. She meant what she said when she expressed her interest in his health and well-being, and as such, she needed to be here for him now.

She moved towards the fireplace, settling into one of the plush armchairs.

The fire crackled merrily, casting a warm glow over the room, and the silence between them was charged with unspoken words. Catherine wondered what the evening would hold, what new dynamics would unfold between them.

“Very well, Your Grace,” she said eventually, her voice soft. “I’ll stay.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“All right, that’s the last one,” Sampson announced to no one in particular.

Catherine looked up to see his brow furrowed in concentration as he scribbled on a document.

It almost felt necessary to clap when the quill dropped from his fingers and he held both his arms up and stretched, a groan making its way past his lips as he tried to release all the tension that had been trapped in his shoulders.

When he finally lowered his arms, he blinked blearily in her direction. “Shall we retire?” he asked, his voice low.

Catherine nodded, trying not to laugh when he shot up from his chair and hurried to her side to gently tug her out of her seat.

“You won’t change your mind?” Sampson asked as he led her by the hand to the door.

“I won’t,” she reassured.

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