Shaking his head, Samuel retorted, ‘Of course, I don’t wish to marry her.’
‘I do not claim to read minds, but from the expression on your face, I am pretty sure what you were thinking about her would require marriage banns to be read. She is certainly a goddess of a woman, a pocket of Venus. Ah, and you do not like when other men compliment her either. Am I to understand that you do not want her, but you do not want another man to have her?’
Samuel’s hands clenched into fists and his school friend laughed merrily at his expense. ‘Of course not.’
‘A piece of wisdom, Duke,’ Billy said, the first time he used Samuel’s new title. ‘Lie to others, but never to yourself.’
Clapping him on the shoulder, the prince left for the card room. Billy was overly fond of drinking, gaming, womanising, and, if the rumours were true, male lovers. He did them all with the enthusiasm of a king. Turning back to see Frederica, Samuel noticed that Colonel Scovell was by her side. The colonel was a man of lower birth who had risen in the ranks with his excellent cryptography skills. In the Peninsula, he’d decoded the Great Paris Cipher and employed army guides as intelligence officers.
Samuel sauntered over to them. Scovell was around forty years of age and quite bald on top with thick sideburns running down his cheeks. His small eyes were keen and Samuel doubted that the man missed any detail. He was Wellington’s spymaster after all.
The colonel bowed to Samuel. ‘Colonel Lord Pelford, I was just becoming acquainted with your betrothed. I would never have guessed that Lady Frederica was English. Her French is flawless.’
His betrothed gave the spymaster a beaming grin and Samuel doubted that the man was thinking about her French conjugations.
‘I am a lucky man, Colonel Scovell,’ Samuel said slowly. ‘Lady Frederica is a very accomplished young lady.’
Frederica’s eyes danced with mischief. ‘And you have not even seen me with a pistol, sir! Back at Hampford Castle, I could even best the duke in marksmanship.’
He had expected the proper gentleman, with an even primmer wife, to be shocked by Frederica’s unfeminine talent, but it was interest and not censure in the man’s countenance. He appeared pleased.
Contrarily, Samuel did not want Frederica to please any man but himself. Taking her elbow tightly, he nodded to Scovell and tugged her towards the dance floor. Like most insipid English balls, it started with a quadrille. He did not release his hold on her arm until she was standing in the right formation and he took his place next to her. The musicians began to play and Frederica weaved through the figures with him.
‘That was a cavemanlike manoeuvre,’ she whispered when their hands met. ‘A gentleman, even a duke, is supposed to ask a lady to dance before dragging her onto the floor.’
Clearing his throat, he felt the blood rush to his face. Frederica did bring out the basest parts of his personality. His spite, resentment, jealousy, and uncontrollable desire. He wanted to grab her and tell everyone in the room that she was his.
They were not allowed to look at her.
Or touch her.
Mine.
Samuel had never known himself to lose control of his emotions or his body before. He did not wish to be a wanton like his father, giving in to his primal lusts to the point that he ignored his responsibilities as a duke and his duties to the family. Samuel wanted to be better. He needed to be the sort of duke and father that his brother could look up to.
Like the Duke of Hampford.
While his own father had been whoring in town, Frederica’s father had taught him how to ride a horse, fish, shoot, hunt, swim, and race a curricle. He’d loved going to Hampford Castle in the summers and helping care for the menagerie of animals. He had enjoyed every part of it except for a loud, irritating girl that had followed him around like a golden retriever. She’d demanded to do whatever her brothers and Samuel were doing. And no matter how hard he and Charles tried to shake her, Frederica always found them. She even parroted what they said like their annoying yellow macaw with a missing claw, Mademoiselle Jaune. But what was worse, she always beat him at everything. She was a faster swimmer. A lighter rider. A better aim and swifter on her feet, but that was before she had grown in quite the opposite directions.
Frederica’s gaze met his.
‘Please forgive my rough handling,’ Samuel said, holding her hand for an instant longer than he should have. ‘I promise that it will not happen again.’
He would not be like his father. He would remain in control of his body. His emotions.
Wrinkling her nose, Frederica grinned at him. ‘I was only teasing, Samuel. I rather liked your caveman treatment.’
‘Shall I throw you over my shoulder and drag you to a nearby cave?’
She held her breath. A beautiful blush growing up from her neck and into her face. For all her talk of love and kisses, she was still innocent in the ways that mattered. ‘I would say yes, but I do not think we would make it past Mama. As you can see, she has placed herself near the door to the gardens. We will not escape so easily this time. It will be difficult for you, I’m afraid, but you’ll be forced to speak to me using real words, instead of grunting like a gorilla.’
His entire body bristled at the comparison to a great ape.
‘Alas,’ Samuel said in a voice barely above a whisper. ‘Talking with you is like speaking to a magpie.’
Frederica shook her head. ‘Unoriginal. I expected better from you. But since we cannot converse politely, I suppose we will have to dance instead.’
The hair rose on the back of his neck. Waltzing would have to do, but he wanted to be closer to her. To silence her saucy mouth by tasting her sweet flavour on his lips. Making polite conversation with Frederica was nearly as agonising as a battlefield wound and twice as deadly.