Page 9 of His Scottish Duchess (The Dukes of Sin #5)

CHAPTER NINE

“ I think it would be much cheaper to rely on Mr. Simmons for the supply of our fruits and vegetables. He has proven that he can be relied on, and his produce is always quite fresh. I say we give him a chance.”

The butler nodded, scribbling down in his little notebook. “Very well, Your Grace. The gardener would like to show you the nursery he set up in the garden.”

Catherine immediately rose to her feet, startling Anna and Mrs. Starling, who had been sitting on either side of her.

“Excellent. Let us go to him at once,” she said, heading for the door.

“B-But, Your Grace! It’s long past noon! Perhaps you should take a break and have something to eat? You barely ate your breakfast,” Anna called, following her mistress.

“I’m fine, do not fret,” Catherine told her dismissively.

“Anna is right, Your Grace. The nursery is not going anywhere. Surely you can take a short break? You have been running about all day,” Mrs. Starling pointed out in her usual calm and unfeeling way.

Catherine hesitated, feeling bad that she had worried her staff this much. But she was still reluctant to give in to their wishes, due to the circumstances that had led her to run around this much.

If she wasn’t running, then she was thinking of him .

Her husband. His cheek. His kiss.

Her attempts to focus on anything other than her memories of his kiss never seemed to be enough. With each new day that dawned, the sensations she had felt in that bathtub grew more intense.

She could still feel the warm water seeping through her clothes, the heat that had followed his touch, the way her insides melted at the press of his lips against hers.

The horrifying thing about that whole affair was that she had wanted more, and had started to crave his scent and his teasing smirk.

I must be out of my mind , she decided and chose to stay away from him until all those odd feelings faded away.

It seemed to work just as well for her because Sampson hadn’t called for her ever since that night. But somehow, that did not provide her with the reassurance she thought it would. Because her yearning did not stop—if anything, it intensified.

“I insist,” Mrs. Starling said, gently steering her back into the drawing room. “In fact, I think you should leave the gardener be for today. If you are so incredibly keen on keeping yourself busy, then you can accompany me while I search for some of the Duke’s old business records that we keep in the attic. Perhaps something there might catch your interest.”

“Would that be all right? I do not want to impose,” Catherine said, worriedly biting her lower lip.

“It is best if you know where the attic is, as well,” Mrs. Starling added. “So that you can have the maids fetch whatever you might need whenever you need it, in the future.”

Catherine saw no problem with that, especially not with the activity serving the purpose of keeping her too busy to think about her husband.

“All right. I suppose there is no better time to get acquainted with the attic than the present,” she finally agreed.

“I am glad you think so.” Mrs. Starling nodded, before pointing at Anna, who just walked back into the drawing room. “We shall go after you have some biscuits and lemonade.”

Catherine, who had not noticed Anna leaving, was a little surprised—and strangely betrayed—by the tray the maid set in front of her.

Begrudgingly, she nibbled on a biscuit, letting her gaze wander around in a bid to find something to fixate on before her thoughts ran away with her, again.

But that proved to be a bad idea, because she managed to peer out of a window, just out of curiosity, and she spotted the gardener she was supposed to speak with. Just as her lips parted to tell Anna to inform him that they would discuss the garden another day, she spotted a man slowly approaching him on horseback.

It took a moment for her to realize that the man on the horse was her husband, and another moment to notice that he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

With a groan, she flinched, as though it had taken a lot of force to tear her gaze away, the biscuit crumbling between her fingers.

“Your Grace? Is everything all right?” Anna questioned, looking quite worried about her.

Catherine nodded, quickly brushing the crumbs from her hands.

“Aye—yes! I am quite all right,” she said hastily, downing her lemonade at once. “In fact, I think Mrs. Starling and I should go to the attic. Right this moment.”

Anna and Mrs. Starling glanced at each other but did not say anything—which Catherine was thankful for.

The last thing she needed was to try and distract them from the fact that she had lost nearly every single thought in her mind at the sight of her husband’s body.

That man and his penchant for forgoing clothes , she seethed, leaving the room quickly.

It frustrated her how carefree and nonchalant he looked, going about his day with no thought for how he had wrecked her. Somehow, it made her believe the tales of his devilish nature a bit more. Because he seemed to derive a lot of joy from getting under her skin while bearing no consequence for his actions.

It was unfair, and she despised how much he affected her.

Mrs. Starling led the way to the attic, occasionally giving her inquisitive looks, but not deeming the situation dire enough to warrant any comment. Even Anna had a concerned expression on her face, but she chose to remain silent, rather than voice her worries.

When they arrived, Catherine had to remind herself that everything she had seen since her arrival at the estate was certainly on a much larger scale than what she was used to.

For one, the attic was incredibly organized, with old furniture, paintings, and documents assigned a corner to dwell in. It made the entire room look even more open.

“His Grace said that some of them were part of his father’s business model, so I’ll need to check thoroughly because there are quite a few things here. I might take a while, Your Grace, so feel free to do as you wish.” The housekeeper curtsied before wandering off.

Catherine pouted over how quickly the elderly woman went away before she could even offer her assistance, and then she looked around the space.

“Are you sure you wish to be here, Your Grace? It is rather… stuffy up here.”

Catherine nodded. “I do not mind. It is certainly better than simply staying in my chambers. Do not worry.”

Anna nodded and lingered nearby, glancing around the room while the Duchess moved around.

It seemed as though someone frequently came to clean the attic because it was neater than Catherine had expected.

While she explored the area, she couldn’t help but notice that some of the furniture there did not seem particularly old or worn. And some of the pieces appeared to be expensive enough to suit the taste of a duke.

“So, why are they here?” she wondered out loud.

“Your Grace? Did you say something?” Anna stepped closer.

“No, I…” Catherine paused, glancing back at the lovely armchair that was covered in very detailed embroidery patterns. “Actually, why are these here? Unlike some of the other armchairs and settees downstairs, this one looks as though it is good enough to be in any part of the house.”

Anna peered down at the furniture in question, and her face lit with recognition.

“Oh, that is the former Duchess’s favorite furniture. I do not know much about her—a lot of us here do not know much about the Duke’s family—but apparently, he had all the furniture she liked moved here for a while,” she explained, running her fingers over the carved wooden ridges.

The younger girl’s words drew Catherine’s attention to the fact that she had barely heard anything about the Duke’s family since her arrival.

Catherine loved and revered her family. They were all she had, and she couldn’t imagine a life in which she did not think or talk about the family she had grown up with. And yet she barely knew anything about Sampson’s family.

Even with the other strange titbits she had picked up about him and his life, he had somehow failed to mention anything about his childhood or parents.

Confused, Catherine continued to peruse the attic, sifting through objects carefully, her curiosity guiding her.

Moments later, she had been studying a rather spectacular armoire, wondering if she could ask for it to be put in her room, when she noticed something peeking out from behind the furniture. Curious, she took a closer look, surprised when she realized it was a portrait. Upon further inspection, she realized there were multiple portraits, all of them seemingly hidden behind the armoire.

She carefully began to take them out, noting that they were turned around to face the wall, so she had to turn them towards herself to see what they were about.

The first was a portrait of Sampson. He looked no older than nineteen, but he was missing his usual charm. His gaze was hollow, and his expression was somber.

The image struck a chord in her chest, and she felt concerned over this side of her husband, wondering what had happened for him to look like that.

She continued to sift through the portraits, pulling out another that looked like it had been done long before the first. This one had a man and a woman in it, with the woman seated demurely in a chair in front of the man. The man had Sampson’s eyes, and the woman had his hair.

“Och,” Catherine mumbled, staring at the portrait. “They must be his parents.”

She studied their expressions, wondering if she could find out more about them from the way their gazes seemed to bore through the canvas. But all she could do was stare at them and try to make heads or tails of the situation. There was something about their countenance that filled her with distrust, and she quickly set the portrait aside and picked another.

This one appeared to be a family portrait, with the parents sitting down on a chair and two boys standing behind them.

Catherine recognized Sampson immediately, clearly far more familiar with his facial features than she would have initially presumed. However, when she studied the other boy, it was clear that he bore some resemblance to the former Duke.

Sampson has… a younger braither?

“Anna?” she called, unable to take her eyes off the boy’s face, quite perturbed by his hollow, sad expression.

“Yes, Your Grace?” Anna responded, scurrying over to her side.

Catherine pointed at the boy’s face and then gestured to her husband’s. “The Duke has a brother? Why did ye not mention this before? Where is he now?”

Anna blinked in surprise, peering closer at the portrait. “Oh goodness—it appears he does! My apologies, Your Grace. I did not inform you because I had no prior knowledge of this,” she replied, looking simultaneously in awe and extremely confused.

“That’s not possible—I thought ye said that ye had worked here for over a year,” Catherine pointed out, also growing confused.

“Two years, to be exact.” Anna nodded. “But during my time here, I have never heard anyone mention the Duke’s brother.”

Mrs. Starling walked towards them then, her arms laden with heavy-looking books. Anna reached forward to help lessen her burden, and Catherine decided to ask someone she was sure would have answers for her.

“Mrs. Starling, where do ye think the Duke’s brother is?”

The housekeeper faced her, her raised eyebrow telling her that she would have more questions for her than answers.

“What do you mean, Your Grace? What brother?”

Catherine pointed at the portrait, growing a little frustrated.

She was only just realizing that her desire to get to know her husband a little more ran deeper than she had initially thought. And as someone who loved her family so much, it irked her how she had married into another and had little idea who they were or what they were like.

It was humiliating, almost, realizing that despite everything that had transpired between them, Sampson had succeeded in keeping a wall between them, managing to keep away his life while intruding on hers.

“This one here. This is a family portrait, is it nae? Are those nae the former Duke and Duchess? The Duke’s parents? Why would they include a complete stranger in their family portrait, eh?” she asked.

“They wouldn’t…” Mrs. Starling replied. “But I have not heard about the Duke having a brother.” She peered closer at the portrait. “A younger brother, for that matter.”

“How is that possible?” Catherine questioned, exasperated.

“The Duke has never once mentioned having a brother. He barely speaks about his parents—prefers to refer to his father as his predecessor than anything else. I know I am meant to have all the answers, Your Grace, and I apologize for disappointing you. But you see, I only came to the estate two years after the Duke inherited the dukedom. And by then, he had gotten rid of the staff that served his father,” the housekeeper replied gently.

The longer Catherine thought about it, the less it made sense. What would her husband want to hide so much that he would go to such lengths?

“But why?—”

“Pardon me, Your Grace.”

Catherine turned around as the butler came up the stairs, looking a little out of breath as he finally got into the attic.

“Oswald? Are ye all right? Ye look as though ye are about to faint,” she said in concern.

The butler nodded his head, but he continued to huff and puff, trying to catch his breath.

“Your Grace… I have been—I have—dear God—” he wheezed, looking alarmingly flushed.

“Take yer time, Oswald. I’m here,” Catherine assured, not knowing what else to do.

The butler nodded again and took a moment to compose himself.

When he had regained some of his senses, he looked right at her and said, “I was searching for you, Your Grace. The Duke has requested your presence tonight.”