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“How was your journey to England? I imagine it was quite the trip.”

She nodded, wishing his attempt at small talk would ease the knots forming in her belly.

“It was a wee bit—I mean, slightly longer than I thought it would be. And cold. Very cold. But fine, nonetheless.”

He nodded, his eyes flickering with an emotion she could not put a name to as he stared at her silently.

“I have to say, I am still surprised that your father sent you to be my bride. How intriguing,” Sampson noted, eventually.

“You did not leave us with much of a choice, since our debt incurred a hefty interest over the years,” she snapped, not liking how his tone implied that they could’ve avoided this altogether.

It had been the best way for them to move forward with minimal losses. If her father had attempted to tackle the debt head-on, it would have cost him immensely. Catherine had all but eagerly volunteered to relieve her family of this burden that had hung over them for so long.

“When Spranklin suggested I take the hand of his daughter as payment for what I was owed, I did not really expect him to send you over. After all, I have yet to meet a father in London who would willingly hand his daughter to a man like me. Yours must be quite brave to be so trusting,” Sampson said with a little shrug of his shoulders.

His words confused Catherine, who couldn’t imagine him experiencing any difficulty finding a willing bride.

With a face like that, he must have lassies from far and wide throwin’ themselves at his feet , she mused, still a little stunned by his handsome face.

“If you assumed my father would be reluctant to part with his children, banish those thoughts. I have many siblings, and if it means my family will be free from the shackles of a debt to you, I would do even more than marry you,” Catherine retorted.

The corners of Sampson’s lips twitched, as though he was going to smile.

“Whatever it was that led to you being my bride, I have to admit that I do not find any fault in it for now. I had expected a meek, little thing. Your spirited character promises to be entertaining, at least.”

His tone hinted at some information she was not privy to, and it irritated her how this man’s very existence seemed to grate on her nerves.

“In any case,” he continued, his expression turning irritated for a moment, “you arrived a day earlier than expected, and as a result, you ended up witnessing me with my guests. I apologize if such a display upset you.”

Sampson seemed sincere, at the very least, but something about the situation still bothered Catherine, like a bothersome itch she had been scratching but could not be rid of.

“Do you have… guests often, Your Grace?” she blurted out, unable to hold back her curiosity.

The image of the women clinging to him at the top of the stairs lingered in her mind. She could hardly keep herself from wincing whenever she recalled how they touched him and how he indulged them with that charming grin that was beginning to irk her immensely.

But then she recalled how defined his body seemed beneath his robe, how strong his form appeared to be, and heat filled her cheeks.

“I enjoy having company,” he replied simply.

“Company? What manner of… company requires such… numbers? If one requires company, it can be found in the presence of friends or family. If those do not suffice, there is nothing wrong with obtaining a pet.” She folded her arms, before adding, “Your Grace,” as an afterthought.

She knew that because she wasn’t his wife yet, she did not have any right to question him as she was doing now. It was not her place, but still, she couldn’t dismiss the thought completely.

Sampson smirked and shook his head. “The sort of company I require is a particular sort. A little mutt cannot exactly solve that problem.”

“How would you know? Have you tried?” Catherine pressed, a little vexed by how he was obviously taunting her and somehow managed to look good while doing it.

“My, my,” he murmured with a grin, stepping closer towards her. “We are not married yet and you are already taking on the role of the nagging wife.”

Infuriated beyond comprehension, Catherine snapped.

“A naggin’—after I find ye wi’ two hussies in yer hall? Ye have the gall to call me a nag? I wouldnae have bothered myself with such clarty behavior if ye knew how to conduct yerself properly. I am to be yer wife, and ye’re cavortin’ like a common… a common randy laddie!”

As soon as the last word had hit the air, she gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth, mortified by what she had just done.

Her days and nights of practicing her posh accent seemingly withered away in the face of her annoyance with this man. As if the embarrassment curling up her spine was not enough, panic shot through her.

She had promised her father that she would be on her best behavior to ensure that she remained in the Duke’s good graces.

And yet she had scolded and insulted him—in her native tongue no less.

What if he found her unworthy to be his bride? What if he demanded that they pay him in full like they were meant to because he had no desire to marry her anymore?

She was pulled out of her thoughts as he stepped closer to her, his eyes bearing a light that surprised and confused her as he leaned forward until mere inches separated their faces.

“So this is who you really are… I like it.”

He reached out and tucked a lock of hair that had slipped out from her simple tie at the back behind her ear, his fingertips lightly caressing her neck and sending shivers down her spine.

Catherine blinked up at him, stunned.

He straightened, dropped his hand, and nodded in the direction of the door. “You should begin your preparations because our wedding will take place tomorrow.”

He took one step back, then turned around to leave the room, tossing over his shoulder with that infuriating smirk of his, “Good night, Miss Lennox.”