Page 42 of A Countess Captured for the Captain
The maid blushed and turned away, and Samantha smiled at him, for the thought was attractive. She felt stifled in London and was desperate to get away. The house felt almost like a prison, though more to the mind than the body. Nox’s uncle and aunt barely spoke to her, though they were always civil. It seemed as though they had determined to ignore her, though for what reason she did not know.
“It sounds delightful. All I want is for us to be together, away from all of this,” she said, not naming Nox’s uncle and aunt, though her implication was clear.
“And soon we shall be, I promise. You will see,” he said, kissing her again, before turning to inspect himself in the mirror.
Nox had not yet grown accustomed to the formalities of the dress he was expected to maintain. His life at sea had been lived in waistcoats and breeches, a cravat the most he had ever tightened around his neck, and only on the most special of occasions. Samantha had grown used to correcting his dress, and now she glanced at the maid and smiled, before going to him and adjusting his collar.
“You are not used to the starch, are you?” she said, as he squirmed beneath her touch.
“The collar has been starched to a point where it is as sharp as a guillotine, I can feel it cutting into my neck,” he said, and Samantha laughed.
“And now perhaps you will understand the pain of the corset,” she said, holding up her arms, as the maid pulled her in.
Soon they were ready and made their way downstairs to the hallway, where Nox’s uncle and aunt were waiting for them. Samantha did her best to make conversation, but the pair paid her little attention, though for once they could not dismiss her and take Nox aside.
“A marvelous evening awaits us,” Nox’s uncle said, rubbing his hands together gleefully.
He seemed overly excited at the prospect of the ball, and Samantha could not help but be suspicious of his motivations. She told herself that she was simply used to seeing the worst in others – several years of Regina’s company having given her something of a cynical disposition – and tried her best to ignore Nox’s uncle and aunt, knowing that the evening would bring with it further problems of its own.
She had not spoken to her father or to Regina since the day of her official betrothal to Nox. They had sent no word of congratulation on their marriage, but the invitation to the ball that night was a chance for reconciliation, one that Samantha was willing to accept. Despite everything, she still loved her father, even if she had been all too willing to go against his wishes. Hehadagreed to her marriage and had placed no barrier between her and Nox, only that of mild disapproval.
They traveled together by carriage, and it seemed that the entire ton was making its way to Hampton Manor that night, a dozen or so carriages already lined up outside the gates. Samantha hoped they could slip in unnoticed, and she was at least looking forward to seeing Rebecca and Catherine, both of whom were all too aware of Regina’s appalling treatment of Samantha and the history of her tempestuous relationship with her father, the Duke.
“I do love these English balls, zee waltz is such a delight,” Nox’s aunt said, and Samantha suppressed a smile.
“Is the waltz not an Eastern European tradition?” she asked, and Nox’s aunt eyed her with disdain across the carriage.
I enjoy zee dance,” she replied, turning to gaze out of the window.
It was a delightful early summer evening, the sun not yet setting when they stepped out of the carriage, greeted by a footman who walked with them up the steps and into the house. It felt strange to be introduced so formally in her father’s home, the home which had been hers for so long, and now that she had returned, Samantha felt like an intruder.
The house no longer seemed to be hers, but rather had all the marks of Regina stamped upon it. In the short while since Samantha had left, the hallway had been entirely redecorated, the paintings which Samantha’s mother had so cherished were replaced by gaudy mythical landscapes, depicting scenes of cherubs and mythical beasts. The furniture too was different, all of a matching light oak, rather than her mother’s favored jumble of style and periods. Regina had made her mark and with the arrival of the baby it was clear she intended to stay.
“The Earl and Countess of Brimsey, Lord Albert Osmond and Lady Bernadette Osmond,” the footman announced.
The house was already busy and Samantha was forced to endure the glances and whisperings of those around her, as she and Nox were led into the salon. It too had been transformed for the occasion, the furniture rearranged to create an open space for dancing and a quartet playing at one end – the waltz which Nox’s aunt was so eager to dance.
“You see, it is not that bad,” Nox whispered, though Samantha was not convinced.
Regina was holding court at the far end. She was sitting on what could only be described as a throne, a chair covered in red silk with gold trim, mounted upon a dais, so that those who came to greet her were at least a head in height below her. Next to her, equally vaulted, was a lavishly decorated cot, in which presumably lay the heir to the Duke’s title. The sight of it was both ridiculous and comedic and Samantha had to repress a smile, as Regina called them over.
“Samantha, come and see your brother – your stepbrother,” she said, beckoning Samantha from across the room.
Samantha glanced at Nox, the two of them making their way through the throng to where Regina sat presiding over the proceedings as though she were the queen herself – which at Hampton Manor she was.
“My congratulations to you, Regina,” Samantha said, and Regina laughed.
“You do not mean that, I know it. But it hardly matters. The child is a boy, an heir to the line. My son will be a Duke, how delightful is that?” she said, as Samantha peered into the cot.
The baby was asleep and bore no distinguishing marks. A baby is a baby and Samantha could summon little enthusiasm. Her overriding feeling was one of pity for the child who would grow up to have Regina as its mother. She had brought a small gift for the child – after all, it was hardly the baby’s fault that it should have Regina as a mother – a rattle, which now she placed into the cot, Regina nodding approvingly.
“My father must be pleased,” she said, and Regina smiled.
“When he learned Hubert was a boy he wept,” she said, and now Samantha could not help herself from laughing, for the very idea that her father had wept over anything was quite ridiculous.
“We are glad to share this happy day with you, Duchess Hampton,” Nox said, glancing at Samantha, who nodded.
“Oh yes, very happy,” she said, as Regina pouted.
