I had a maid," Sam told him once they were alone.
"I can't have my wife doing housework." He was prepared for her fight, and smiled when she didn't challenge him.
"I never liked mopping floors. You'll get no argument from me."
Such blatant honesty and about the simplest of things, pleased him.
"You won't have time for that anyway," he informed her. They sat out on the veranda and watched the sun setting over the Pacific.
"Why's that?"
"I need you to talk to the caterers and designers about the reception at Albany Hall."
"You want me to plan a party for a place I've never been, for people I've never met?"
Blake sent her a sympathetic look. "I need you to approve what they come up with. I trust my staff there completely, but I need them to be prepared to ask you about these things when we get there. It's best we start that relationship now."
She stretched her legs out on the chaise and tucked them under a blanket. "Is this the first party you've thrown at your home?"
"No."
"Then who planned them before? I can't see you doing it."
Her mind was so sharp. "My mother did most of the party planning." Although his mother would want to continue planning everything in his ancestral home, he wanted to make certain Samantha had choice over everything.
Sam's curiosity didn't sit long before she started asking more questions. "Where does your mother live?"
"Albany Hall."
"She lives in your house?" There was a small amount of surprise in Sam's voice.
Blake wondered how much he should reveal, how much truth he could trust his wife with. He started with the facts that would be easily obtained if Samantha bothered looking.
"My mother was the Duchess of Albany for the time she'd been married to my father. After his death, she kept the title, until I married you."
"Ouch. Talk about a wedge between a mother and a daughter-in-law. This can't be a good thing."
Blake shifted in his seat to look at his wife. "It's expected. She knew the day would come sooner than later. Once my father's will was read I'm sure she realized I'd do everything in my power to secure my inheritance."
"How close are you and your mother?"
"We do okay."
"That doesn't sound hopeful."
The air around him started to chill. There was a time when he and his mother had been close. When they had a common goal of hating his father. "You don't have to worry about her."
Samantha seemed to gather the information, process it, and then kick out a solid assessment. "But there is someone I need to worry about, isn't there?"
He wanted to lie, but couldn't. With Sam, if felt wrong to let white lies begin and possibly wedge between them. "My cousin. He's on my short list of people who might have planted those cameras in your home."
"You're kidding?"
"I wish I was. Howard stands to inherit a hefty sum should our marriage fail."
"I take it the two of you aren't chummy."
"Barely tolerate each other is a better description. He stays at Albany as often as he can manage. My mother is too kind to send him away."
"Why don't you?"
"I'm not there enough to care. Though now that will change."
"How so?" Samantha said.
"My mother has the right to live in the house until the estate turns over to me next year. It's understood that once I took a wife, she, you, would take on the duties of Duchess and my mother would move to the smaller estate on the grounds." He didn't expect Sam to take all this in and understand it. But he wanted her to grasp most of it before they left for Europe.
"I don't think I've done enough research on your family home. I assumed Albany Hall was a convenient name for a manor house. Something you British used to make things grander than they are." Samantha played with a lock of her hair as she spoke. Her eyes kept drifting toward the sea.
"Once you see Albany Hall, you'll understand my reluctance to choose a bride."
"Hmm, you know, something has bothered me since we met."
"What's that?"
"Why don't you have a British accent? You grew up there, right?"
Memories of hearing his father scold him for not speaking properly chased around in his head. Blake did everything he could to go against his father's wishes, right down to speaking American English and not the Queen's English.
"I spent summers at Albany when I was in boarding school. Every chance we could, my mother took my sister and I here to