Samuel let out a watery chuckle. ‘I do not doubt it.’ She felt his arms move around her waist and he gripped her tightly. ‘Even now, I could not bear to tell my little brother the truth. I did not want him to have to carry the family shame.’
She squeezed him tighter. ‘It is not your shame, nor Jeremy’s, and you do not have to carry it.’
He buried his head into her neck, moving his head back and forth. ‘I should have been there for my mother. I should have helped her. Instead, I ran away.’
She caressed his soft curls with her fingers. He seemed so vulnerable and she wanted to comfort him. ‘You were little more than a child and your mother is a very capable woman. She managed to keep your father’s condition and confinement a secret from all theton. Your father’s mistakes are not your responsibility.’
But as she spoke those words, she realised that they were not true. The only reason that Samuel was marrying her was because of his father’s choices. His debts. Samuel had not chosen her, but she had chosen him. Or at least, she had chosen to accept the bargain with her mother to marry him in exchange for the perfume business. Her hands dropped and she slowly backed away from him. She could not release him from his promise to marry her. It would break her heart to do so.
Frederica got to her feet, her knees a little shaky. ‘I am feeling a bit thirsty.’
‘Shall I ask that fellow for some water?’ Samuel asked, standing beside her. His expression blank, retreating behind his wall of implacability.
‘Oh, no,’ she said with a forced smile, tucking an errant curl behind her ear. ‘I am thirsty for something a little stronger. I believe there is an inn, not too far down the road. Shall we mount up and go find it?’
Samuel held out his arm and they walked back to where the horses were tethered. They led their animals to a trough and allowed them to drink their fill, before Samuel assisted her into the side-saddle. He mounted the magnificent horse, and they rode to a small inn called La Belle Alliance. The paint on the exterior of the building was chipping, and there was no private parlour. Frederica waited in the saddle while Samuel went inside and purchased two tankards of ale. He handed one to Frederica, and she sipped it cautiously. It burned down her throat and she coughed as black spots filled her eyes.
He took several large gulps and laughed at her. ‘Not had much experience with tap drinks?’
Taking another sip, she made a face. ‘I do not think I have missed much.’
Samuel held out his hand to take the tankard and drained it. ‘I shall see if the rascally barman has any milk.’
He returned with a glass of milk.
Frederica took a hesitant sip. It was a little tepid, but otherwise tasted familiar. ‘This is much more to my liking.’
She finished the glass and he kindly took it back inside the inn. They set off for Brussels in silence. Samuel had shared his most intimate secrets with her. His shame. And she had been unable to comfort or absolve him. She could not even kiss him, even though she’d wanted to. She was just another burden that he did not want. That he did not choose.
When they reached her house, Samuel helped her dismount her horse and handed the reins to Jim, who stood waiting.
‘Shall I see you tomorrow night at the King and Queen of the Netherlands’s fête?’
She cocked her head to one side. ‘To be sure.’
‘May I have your first waltz?’
‘I am afraid Captain Wallace has already claimed that dance, but you may certainly have the second.’
‘Why do you dance with that Scottish fellow so much?’
‘We are discussing military secrets, of course,’ Frederica said with a laugh and walked into her house on Rue de Lombard.
It was obvious from the expression on Samuel’s face that he did not believe her. Jealousy looked rather good on him.
If only honesty became her.
Chapter Fifteen
Frederica had attended many parties with her mother since arriving in Brussels, but none that impressed her as much as the King and Queen of the Netherlands’s fête. It was truly a splendid affair. The rooms were filled with men in a colourful array of fancy dress uniforms. Countless chandeliers hung from the ceilings and their candles burned brightly. She was introduced to the King and Queen of the Netherlands and danced the first country dance with the Prince of Orange. A slender but handsome young man with receding chestnut hair and a winning smile. Unlike Samuel in every way.
‘It is a great honour to dance with you again, Your Highness,’ Frederica said as they made their first turn of the set.
‘No, no, Lady Frederica. I have been most eager to get to know Samuel’s fiancée better and could not resist the opportunity to spare myself a dance with one of the old high-ranking frights.’
Raising her eyebrows, Frederica giggled. ‘A prince’s lot is a hard one.’
Prince William smiled broadly at her and agreed readily, ‘One is always forced to dance with and talk with people whom one would least wish to.’