Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

" A h, there you are, Samuel. I was wondering when you were going to come down."

Samuel grimaced, looking up. He had gotten so lost in thought as he replayed the events of the night before that he hadn't been able to escape his mother's usual matchmaking attempts. Usually, Samuel always managed to find a way to escape the young ladies and their mamas. However, that was not the case this time.

"Good morning, Mother," he said, going over to kiss her on the cheek.

Their relationship had never been like a proper mother-and-son relationship. There had always been a strain that he'd noticed from the moment he could understand things. His mother had never been able to accept the reality of her arranged marriage, although she'd found a way to have a respectful relationship with the former Duke.

Samuel had suffered as a result of this forced marriage. He wasn't close to either parent and had never known love from either of them—not that he had ever expected them to love him.

Although his mother hadn't treated him like his father did, she had always preferred to pretend like he didn't exist, putting a wall between them that a younger Samuel had tried on multiple occasions to scale through before he finally realized that she had chosen it herself and there was nothing he could do, unless she chose to let it down. Now, he was merely polite to her.

"Do you, by any chance, have plans today?" she asked him, her voice calm and commanding, as it usually was.

Samuel looked at the young lady. She was a tiny slip of a woman. Her blonde hair and blue eyes, coupled with her height, gave her an air of innocence. He was certain it was part of the reason his mother had chosen her. Or maybe it had more to do with the fact that he had escaped every single matchmaking attempt she'd tried and this was her next best option.

He could not deny that she was a beautiful woman. However, it was of no concern to him. this was certainly another trap that he didn't intend to be lured into.

"Yes, I was supposed to spend some time with Benedict today. There is business we have to discuss," he said, hoping it would be enough to dissuade his mother from whatever notions she had set in her head.

"Oh, I would hate to disrupt your plans, but couldn't you suffer a few moments to spend with your old mother?" she asked him, her eyes fixed in his direction.

"I don't remember us ever doing something like that before," Samuel said in a matter-of-fact tone.

The Dowager Duchess's head reared backward, taken aback. She lookedstared at the lady beside her, who was doing her best to pretend she wasn't there and hadn't heard what was said.

Samuel held back a grimace as his mother's cheeks flushed in embarrassment. He hadn't meant to embarrass her. He merely spoke the truth. She was asking him to spend time with her now, but at the time it would have mattered more, when he was younger and in need of her time and affection, she had withheld it from him.

She had let his father do to him whatever he pleased, turning a blind eye to all of it.

He was neither vindictive nor angry at her for it. He merely couldn't fathom how the conversation between them would go if he decided to stay, and he was in no mood to sit in awkward silence.

"Well, we could start now." Her voice was small as she uttered her suggestion.

Samuel looked at her. This time, he was the one taken aback. Not even after his father's death had she tried to get to know him as a mother would her son. She only ever sought him out when there was something she needed to be done.

She must be desperate to see me married.

His mother would never be so willing to suffer through this for any other cause. It amused him more than it bugged him, although there was the old sting that had remained with him as a child. The one weakness he tried to get rid of and yet hadn't been able to fully let go of.

"Mother, I really do not think now is a good time for this," he insisted, taking a step back as he prepared to leave the sunroom.

"Perhaps you could join us for some tea, Your Grace," the young lady said, daring to speak to him.

Samuel stared at her with raised eyebrows, It was the first time one of the ladies that his mother had tried to introduce to him had ever spoken up. The others had played coy, turning their gazes to the floor or merely batting their eyelashes at him whenever he looked in their direction.

Well, this one is quite brave.

"Apologies. I do not believe I have spoken to you," he said, staring straight into her eyes.

She blushed and looked away, setting her teacup on the table as her smile fell. She chanced a glance at him again. The light in her eyes had dulled, her face losing the air of innocence he'd first noticed about her.

How terrible.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace." She stood up and curtseyed. "My name is Lady Marina, Your Grace."

Samuel grunted. "I see."

His mother took a sip of her tea, her face stuck in a stoic expression. She would not interfere. Not after what he had said to her.

"As you are my mother's guest, I will leave you to your tea," he said, turning to leave once again when he was suddenly stopped by his mother. He truly hadn't expected her to speak another word to him.

"Samuel, don't be like this," she said, in what appeared to be a pleading look.

He held back a scoff. His mother never pleaded for anything. She only commanded and glowered until she got what she wanted, not that he had ever denied her much, save for the idea of finding himself a wife.

"Don't be like what?" he asked her. He leaned in close, his voice low, for her ears only. "I have warned you before, Mother. Do not do such things. I have told you before that I have absolutely no interest in this marriage scheme that you are plotting. I will be as respectful as possible to not embarrass your guest, so I suggest that you do not push me further."

He'd kept his tone low and his face blank for her benefit, so that he did not embarrass her in front of her guest.

She nodded, her eyes widening slightly.

He nodded courteously at Lady Marina, who blushed, unable to look up at him, much like she had done earlier.

Samuel exited the room, his mood slightly ruined. He went out to the carriage that had been brought around for him and climbed in, a bitter taste in his mouth. There was nothing more annoying than how his mother had been trying to match him with someone lately just to see him married.

While he had no intention of ever marrying, Samuel would've tried to oblige her if she'd ever tried to be a mother to him back then or even sought to be cordial with him now that he was older. Instead, the only time she ever sought to speak with him was in times like this.

His mind flashed back to a younger him, desperate for his mother. Samuel's abusive father was often in no rush to spare the rod, even on days when he'd done nothing wrong to deserve such wrath from the man who should've protected him.

Samuel walked up to his mother's art room, holding back a wince from the pain that shot through him with every step he took. He would not be able to sit down for some time, and he would only be able to lie on his stomach, otherwise his wounds would blister and peel.

He could still remember the last time he'd gone to bed after a beating and hadn't taken care to protect his hurting back from the sheets. He'd had to endure even more pain than he felt from the beating he received from his father.

He raised a hand to knock on the open door of his mother's art room, navigating through the various paintings and statues that she'd collected over the years. She never allowed him into the room, but he needed her and would take the risk. Moreover, now that he was already hurt, perhaps she would be more lenient.

She looked at him, her eyes scanning his form as he leaned over, a hand to his side. "Has your father acted up again?"

He nodded, swallowing as his eyes filled with tears. He closed his eyes to hold them back. She'd never cared for his tears and would only tell him to be a man or cry in the privacy of his quarters, where there would be no one to see him and consider him weak.

Her eyes went above his head just as he felt a presence behind him. His father towered over him, a blank stare on his face and his thin lips set into a straight line.

"Don't you think you're being too hard on the boy?" she asked, her expression not showing concern for him.

"You will not tell me how to raise my son," the Duke growled, his hands clamping down on Samuel's shoulder. "Come along, Samuel."

"Of course, Your Grace," the Duchess said, returning her gaze to her painting.

It was the last time the Duchess ever questioned the Duke when it came to how to raise Samuel. He'd been beaten by his father again in the evening for running to his mother for help instead of seeing what he had done wrong and making sure it never happened again.

"You'll never be a man if you hide behind your mother's skirt when you feel wronged," his father had screamed at him as he brought the whip down on his back.

Despite his father's words, Samuel had constantly sought solace with his mother after that day, but she'd completely distanced herself from him, often acting aloof whenever he went to her, her eyes just as cold as his father's, except she never beat him.

His family had been dysfunctional even before he was born, but he'd always assumed it was normal. They rarely spent time together, especially since his mother was often never home and was usually sequestered away with her art on the days that she was.

His father, on the other hand, only sought him out when he thought he needed a lesson on being a duke or when Samuel had done something wrong to offend him.

Samuel frowned, rubbing his hands together as he shook off the memory. He always kept them locked away because whenever he remembered them, they always dampened his mood.

He never went out of his way to be mean to his mother. That wasn't his intention in there. However, she made it very difficult for him. She had never been particularly affectionate to him, and watching her act this way now, feigning a relationship they did not have made it even more difficult for him to come to terms with it.

Samuel rapped at the carriage door and closed his eyes as he left the estate. He couldn't wait to be away from there so he could clear his head of the negative emotions he felt.