Page 19 of His Scottish Duchess (The Dukes of Sin #5)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“ A re you sure I cannae live in a bathroom? They have so many of them. They willnae ken if I’m in one. They dinnae even have to worry about it.”

Catherine sighed, fond and exasperated. “No, Graham. You cannot live in a bathroom. Please, just get in the carriage.”

The departure of her family was a bittersweet ending to their stay. Sampson stood on the steps of Rosehall, a polite smile fixed on his face as he watched the flurry of farewells.

Fergus, his broad shoulders slightly stooped, embraced Catherine tightly, his familiar hand patting her back with paternal affection.

“Be a good wife to yer Sampson, lass,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “And remember, ye’re always our Catherine. Always a part of us. We love ye dearly.”

Mary followed suit, her hug equally fervent, tears glistening in her eyes as she whispered words of love and encouragement into Catherine’s hair.

With her siblings, the goodbyes were a mix of playful teasing and genuine affection. Catherine squeezed Graham’s hand, reminding him to stay out of trouble and to practice his riding. To Margaret, ever the capable older sister, she offered a heartfelt plea.

“Look after yerself, Meg,” she urged, her voice catching slightly. “As much as ye look after everyone else.”

Young Isobel, clutching a small posy of wildflowers Catherine had picked for her, looked on the verge of tears as Catherine showered her with kisses, her small face crumpling as Catherine finally pulled away.

Fergus clasped Sampson’s hand, his grip firm. “Thank ye again for yer hospitality, Yer Grace,” he said, his gaze sincere. “It meant the world to Catherine, and to us all.”

“The pleasure was entirely mine, Lord Spranklin,” Sampson replied, his tone genuine. He had found an unexpected enjoyment in the lively presence of the Lennox family. “You are all welcome at Rosehall anytime.”

As the carriage carrying her family finally disappeared down the long drive, Catherine turned to Sampson, a soft smile gracing her lips. “Thank you again, Sampson,” she said, her voice filled with warmth. “That was the most wonderful surprise.”

Then, a new light sparked in her eyes, a hint of excitement replacing the earlier sadness.

“Sampson,” she announced, her tone suddenly determined, “I believe it is time we hosted a ball here at Rosehall.”

Sampson raised a skeptical eyebrow, a familiar teasing glint in his blue eyes. “A ball, Catherine? Trying a bit too hard to play the dutiful Duchess, are we?”

Instead of bristling at his teasing, Catherine’s lips curved into a playful smirk.

“And you, Sampson? Always so quick to assume the worst. Perhaps I simply wish to throw a party. Or perhaps…” She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Perhaps I merely wish to see you looking dashing in your formal attire.”

Sampson found himself unexpectedly captivated. There was something undeniably attractive about her confidence, the way her eyes sparkled with amusement, the subtle challenge in her smirk. It made him curious to know if she would still be this bold if he pulled her to a quieter place and pressed against her. He wondered how long she could hold the bravado while shaking with pleasure.

The temptation to ravish her was growing rapidly, along with the urge to sink his teeth into her skin and mark her as his while she writhed in pleasure beneath him. This close, he couldn’t help but feel tempted to count the freckles smattered across her nose and the apples of her cheeks, making her beauty even more breathtaking.

A warm, unfamiliar feeling stirred in his chest, a sensation he instinctively tried to suppress. He had no desire to analyze these burgeoning emotions.

“Do as you wish, Catherine,” he said, his tone deliberately nonchalant as he turned and walked away, feeling a sudden, inexplicable urge to put some distance between them. “You may have your ball.”

But the farther he got from her, the more a part of him longed to stay.

Almost as soon as she had Sampson’s blessings, Catherine threw herself into the preparations for the ball with determined energy. The prospect was both exciting and daunting. While she had attended one grand ball in London before her marriage, the intricacies of hosting such a lavish event were entirely new to her. She found herself poring over books on etiquette and consulting with Mrs. Starling on guest lists and menus, a knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach with each passing day.

“I have to do well,” she said to herself one afternoon, whilst surrounded by books and gossip leaflets that spoke about the latest trends seen at parties. “I must make sure that I do not bring any shame to Sampson… or my family.”

Catherine had not been able to forget what those women had said about her at the ball she had attended with her husband, often finding herself recalling the way they had looked down on her for her origins. From the treatment she had received, it was clear many of them believed she was undeserving of Sampson and all the privileges that came with being his Duchess.

And it was rather unfair. She had not asked for any of that, but she was determined to remain worthy of all that was now in her possession—especially the attention and affection of her husband and the right to remain at his side.

Still, a ball was proving to be a rather daunting task to pick as the means of proving all those who lacked faith in her wrong.

Just as she was beginning to feel overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the undertaking, a familiar carriage pulled up to the front entrance. Catherine watched, confused, because Sampson was out and about on business, so she did not know who would come calling without prior notice.

To her surprise and delight, it was Eleanor, the Duchess of Ironvale, whom she had met briefly at the ball. Eleanor radiated a warmth and genuine kindness that Catherine had immediately been drawn to.

As Catherine rose to her feet, excited to see a friend with whom she could share her current woes, she noticed that Eleanor was not alone. Accompanying her were three other elegant ladies, all of whom carried an air of untouchable beauty and grace.

It made Catherine hesitate as she looked down at her dress, hoping she looked presentable enough to entertain guests and wishing she had chosen a more vibrant color, rather than the pale pink dress that hung on her body.

Eleanor spotted her in the garden and immediately waved at her with a bright smile. “Catherine, darling!”

Catherine couldn’t help but smile, already swept by Eleanor’s gentle charm.

“Eleanor, how lovely of you to visit!” she greeted, feeling happy to see the other woman.

“I do apologize for not sending a note first. You see, Sampson had mentioned to Frederick in passing that you had plans to host a ball, and my husband told me. I immediately thought you might need some assistance.” Eleanor frowned slightly, looking uncertain all of a sudden. “Was I being too forward? I would have called, but?—”

“Oh, no. No, I promise, you have come at the right time. I was getting rather overwhelmed with all the preparations, and frankly, your appearance right now is a godsend,” Catherine said, sounding close to tears.

Eleanor laughed, a light tinkering sound that somehow made her seem even more elegant. She took Catherine’s hands in her own and squeezed them gently.

“Do not worry, dearest. We are here to help in any way we can,” she promised, before gesturing to the women standing around them. “Catherine, my dear, allow me to introduce my friends. This is Selina Bolton, the Duchess of Crauford; Thalia Pratt, the Duchess of Ravenwood; and Nora Gale, the Duchess of Bancroft.”

Catherine, initially shy and feeling somewhat out of her depth, bobbed a polite curtsey, her cheeks flushing slightly.

Eleanor, however, immediately put her at ease. “Nonsense, Catherine! No need for such formality. We’re here to help you organize your ball! Hosting can be such fun, you’ll see!”

Her enthusiasm was infectious, and Catherine found herself smiling despite her earlier anxieties.

“All right. It is such a pleasure to meet you all. And… welcome to my home,” Catherine said, waving over a maid to fetch them some refreshments as she led them into the house and made for the drawing room.

It did not take long for the tension to leave Catherine’s shoulders, and she settled into comfortable conversation with the other women, although she was often happier to sit back and simply listen to them.

Just like Eleanor, they each had their own striking personality, and their closeness filled Catherine with an indescribable desire to have such wholesome friendships.

“I have not enquired in a while—how is your garden, Eleanor?” Nora asked as she stirred sugar into her tea, before turning to Catherine. “You simply must attend her annual spring house party, Catherine. She has an exceptional green thumb, and her garden blooms beautifully during that time.”

“I do hope your Aunt Cheryl has no intention of gracing us with her presence again this year. While I do love to watch a confident woman with high aspirations, it is rather annoying to fight one off when she expresses interest in your husband,” Selina huffed as she reached for a biscuit.

“That was a rather disturbing display. I was convinced you were going to pull her by her hair into the courtyard and throw her into the fountain.” Nora grinned.

Thalia sighed, smiling a little at her sister. “Oh, she had every intention of doing so. It took the intervention of my husband Benedict, Aaron, and me to stop her from outright ripping off dear Aunty Cheryl’s wig.”

“Knowing our dearest Selina, she likely would’ve done substantial damage—which would’ve put Aunt Cheryl off men forever,” Eleanor pointed out with a grin.

“You all know me too well, and it is rather disconcerting.” Selina pouted for a moment, then she grinned. “But you’re not wrong.”

“Oh dear,” Catherine gasped, very intrigued by the story.

They clearly had known each other for a long while, the familiarity and ease with which they interacted making her hope she could be just as close with them.

“So, why did you want to throw a ball so suddenly? There is nothing wrong with it, I promise. But you might feel more comfortable waiting for a little while until you get used to your title and familiarize yourself with all the important members of the ton,” Nora advised gently.

Catherine blushed, not sure how to articulate her reasons without seeming childish.

“I think that was the precise reason. Or, at least, one of them. I haven’t done much here since I arrived from Scotland. I simply remain within these walls, on these grounds, with the staff and my husband for company. That is not to say that I have been forbidden from going out, but… I am not sure I would be comfortable venturing out on my own here. But still, I would like to meet new people and make new friends. And what better way to make friends than at a party?” she explained quietly.

“That is a fantastic point, dear.” Thalia nodded serenely, in the gentle way that soothed Catherine’s nerves. “There is no better place to rub elbows with people with similar values than your own event. But perhaps you should have started witha small… soiree.”

“Oh,” Catherine murmured, looking down at her teacup.

“No matter! We are here to help you in every way possible! We have each hosted our fair share of balls. And we all have our strengths, so you have limitless resources at your disposal. Whatever you need, we are here to provide,” Eleanor assured her with a sweet smile.

Catherine found her words very encouraging. It was nice to know that they were going to support her, despite her less-than-sane idea of doing this with no prior experience.

“Thank you. I—you really have no idea how much of a relief it is to have you all here. Your presence means so much to me,” she sniffed, feeling touched.

Thalia reached over and patted her arm comfortingly. “Do not worry, dear. We are more than happy to help. We duchesses must stick together.”

Catherine smiled and nodded, excited for what was to come.

The Duchesses immediately got down to work. They gave Catherine advice and tips she could not find in the catalogs and books she had read, such as the best florist to employ in order to receive the freshest flowers, the most reliable decorator, and the most ideal selection of appetizers to serve the guests to have them talking about the ball for weeks to come.

Catherine felt as though she was being given lessons on arithmetic and history again, with how many notes she was taking. The other Duchesses thought she looked precious with her furious scribbling, but she pointed out it was merely to ensure she did not forget a single detail.

Selina, with her sharp wit and a keen eye for detail, eventually brought up the matter of the guest list, offering insightful advice, noticing that Catherine’s list looked rather short.

“You absolutely must invite the Abernathys,” she declared, tapping a delicate finger against the list Catherine had compiled. “They always make lively conversation. But steer clear of the Tremaines. Trust me, my dear, the scandal surrounding Lord Tremaine and that opera singer is still far too fresh for polite company.”

As Catherine drew a table with two columns titled ‘invited’ and ‘not invited,’ Thalia, whose gentle demeanor belied a surprising knowledge of gossip, chimed in.

“And avoid Lady Beatrice Ashworth if you value your silverware. There have been… whispers of her rather sticky fingers at recent gatherings. Things have often gone missing around places she had been seen.”

“And if you are inviting Lord Cullen and his family, ensure that they are kept far away from Lady Patricia and her sons. There is still the unresolved matter of Lord Cullen’s sister’s honor, for which a duel was issued but Lord Cullen never showed up. Lady Patricia’s son, Luke, has made it his solemn duty to remind Lord Cullen of his cowardice for the rest of his life,” Eleanor sighed, as though she found the drama more tiresome than anything else.

It was truly riveting, how much trouble the members of the ton got themselves into—and equally concerning, given the severe nature of the situations they seemed to constantly stir up.

Nora, with her practical approach, focused on the more logistical aspects. “We can help you with the seating arrangements, Catherine. And don’t fret about the music. Bancroft’s orchestra is quite exceptional, and Samuel would be delighted to lend them for an evening.”

As they worked together, a comfortable camaraderie began to develop between the ladies. They shared anecdotes about their own experiences hosting balls, offered helpful tips, and laughed as they recounted minor disasters.

Soon, the conversation turned to their husbands, and Catherine found herself drawn into their easygoing banter.

“Honestly,” Selina said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly, “Aaron can be utterly impossible when we have guests. He insists on discussing agricultural advancements at the dinner table. As if anyone truly cares about the latest turnip yields!”

Thalia giggled. “Benedict is the opposite. He spends the entire evening making jokes and talking up a storm with the guests. We only ever have a moment of silence when food is served.”

“And Samuel,” Nora added with a fond smile, “insists on personally vetting every single dish. The poor chef nearly had a nervous breakdown before our last ball.”

Catherine found herself laughing along with them, feeling a sense of belonging she hadn’t anticipated.

Eleanor, seeing her ease, beamed. “You see, Catherine? It’s not so daunting when you have friends to help you. And we are your friends now.”

As the afternoon wore on, the preparations for the ball began to take shape, and the initial dread was replaced by a growing sense of excitement. With her friends by her side, Catherine felt confident that her first ball as the Duchess of Rosehall would be a resounding success.

And more importantly, she was beginning to realize the true value of female companionship and the strength that could be found in shared laughter and understanding.