Page 37 of A Necessary Wife

Milo stiffened, his temper rising. “When was this?”

“Not long after…”

She left the rest unsaid and glanced down at her fingers.

Samuel’s worst behavior stemmed from one particular moment in time: the death of his beloved wife. From then on, Samuel had lost his way in a manner that grew more concerning by the year.

His wife had been an extraordinary woman…but she wasn’t the only woman in the world. Amelia had taught Milo that.

Samuel had two sons to live for, too. The example he set was abominable. The boys deserved so much better from their father. He wondered if Samuel even knew where they were at that moment.

“Samuel…”

But that was all he managed to say because his brother turned his back on them.

“Go back to the manor, brother, and tell our father I’m happier here in the wild than anywhere.”

“I can’t do that. I promised.”

Samuel turned back abruptly. “What did Father promise you in return for your efforts to reform me? Clearly, you fulfilled his dearest wish to have at least one of us leg-shackled again.”

Milo was surprised that Samuel had heard he was married already. “Our father promised me nothing if I married again.”

“And yet you have done so,” Samuel noted, with a nod toward Amelia. “You of all people should know why I wish for solitude.”

“If you do not wish for ramblers disturbing your wallowing,” Amelia cut in, “you should put up a ‘no trespassing’ sign.”

Samuel glanced at Amelia, clearly considering her suggestion. “I might do that yet. Thank you for the suggestion.”

She glanced around and wrinkled her nose. “I’m sure there’s paint at the manor that you could beg for, to make your martyrdom more obvious and satisfying.”

Samuel growled. “Why don’t you mind your own business for once and leave me alone?”

“Why don’t you finish dressing, and I’ll consider discussing it?” Amelia shook her head. “Your wife, she married a gentleman, not a peddler. A man who would protect her children from harm and give them love, no matter what happened to her. She would be embarrassed if she knew you lived like this.”

Samuel’s jaw clenched, and he turned away to snatch up his coat.

Milo studied Amelia in surprise at her blunt criticism. There were not many women who would confront a widow without offering platitudes.

But when Amelia winked at him, then wiped all expression from her face before Samuel could see, Milo smiled. His instincts had been right. Amelia would make a formidable duchess one day, if this was how she dealt with his still-grieving sibling.

When Milo turned back to his brother, Samuel was striding off into the woods alone. “Samuel, come back here.”

“I’ve got things to do,” he shouted.

Milo followed his brother a few steps, hoping that Amelia remained behind. But she and the children followed along, Amelia and Adam talking about Samuel and his cousins. Lucy continued with her sour expression and attempted to interrupt them.

Milo paused for a second, exasperated. “For heavens sake, Lucy, let your brother finish talking and then you can take your turn.”

He gave chase. Samuel had entered another clearing, where several trees had been felled, but it was clear they were the result of storm damage, not deliberately cut down. One branch had a length of canvas tied over it, creating an open-ended tent. Inside was a pile of blankets.

Milo winced at his brother wanting to live in such rough surroundings. He picked up a long saw, the type used by the estate woodsmen. “What are you doing with this?”

“Making a table,” he said, throwing his coat across a tree branch.

Milo couldn’t hide his surprise. “Since when do you know carpentry?”

“Since forever. What do you think I do when I travel around? Sit in ale houses and drink myself insensible all day and every night?”