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“I have too much going on here to waste my time in France,” Sampson said.

Oliver waved a hand. “Your father’s legacy can wait. You’re still a young man, and you won’t always be. The war is over, Sampson! We’ve earned a little recreation.”

“It’s not just my father’s things I have to contend with,” Sampson said. “I have other things going on here. Things I can’t possibly walk away from.”

“What kinds of things?”

Sampson fixed his friend with a steady gaze. “I’m sure you know the answer to that, Oliver.”

Oliver’s eyes went wide. “You’re talking about George’s wife.”

“I’ve married her,” Sampson said. “She’s my wife now.”

“You’ve married her? Truly?”

“It was what she needed. And didn’t I promise that I would see to it she had whatever she needed once I made it back home?”

“Well, yes, of course, you did,” Oliver said. “But I thought you were talking about giving her money, not this.”

“A lady needs far more than money. She needs someone to protect her. That was what I pledged. That was what I told George I was going to do, and I am not going to take it back now.”

“You hardly could, if you’ve already said your vows.” Oliver looked troubled. “Are you certain you’ve thought this through, Sampson? I don’t think George would have expected a marriage. I think he would have understood what a monumental thing that would be to ask of someone.”

“He didn’t ask it,” Sampson agreed. “But it was what she needed, and he did want to ensure that she had everything she needed. You know that.”

Oliver sighed. “I never thought you would take it this far.”

Sampson said nothing. He picked up his drink and took another sip.

“You know,” Oliver said quietly. “What happened to him wasn’t your fault, Sampson. George, I mean. I know that you want to do right by him, and I think that’s wonderful, but…you don’t owe him this.”

“I do,” Sampson said stubbornly. “And I don’t really want to argue about it, Oliver. It’s done. I’ve married her.”

The two men sat in silence for a moment. Sampson was fairly certain Oliver was trying to come up with more things to say to him, ways to convince him that he had made the wrong choice. He wished he could tell his friend outright that it was going to be impossible. He could never be convinced. The bonds he and George had formed while off at war were unlike anything he’d ever experienced in his life, and he would die before breaking the oath he had made.

“It isn’t a hardship,” he said at last. “She’s a very decent young lady.”

“She’s decent?” Oliver raised an eyebrow. “Is that truly what you think of her? That’s the way I might describe a pair of shoes.”

“Well, I don’t know.” Sampson was suddenly frustrated and unsure why. He stared into his ale. “How should I describe her, then, in your opinion?”

“It’s as if you had never seen a lady before in your life! Is she pretty?”

“Yes,” he said.

“That was quick.”

“It’s not a difficult question.” He thought of her now, her auburn hair and pensive eyes…and then he thought of the way she had looked in his study the other night, with her dressing gown wrapped around her and her gaze so helpless. As she’d told him that she didn’t really understand what was meant to happen on a person’s wedding night.

“Your face is red,” Oliver observed.

“No it isn’t,” Sampson glowered, though he knew it must be by how hot it felt. He took a long drink to cool himself down.

When he put his glass down, Oliver was watching him. “I think you find her attractive,” he said slowly. “I think you’re enamored of her.”

“Why would you say such a thing? You know perfectly well that I’m only married to her in order to keep up my promise to George!” His voice dropped to a hiss. “I don’t feel that way at all, Oliver.”

“You’re protesting quite a lot, if that’s the case,” Oliver said, sipping his drink. “I seem to have struck a nerve. I think I’m onto something. I think you married her because of your promise, but now that you’ve done that, I think you’re discovering deeper feelings. What do you say? Am I right?”