Page 14 of His Duchess to Remember

Her heart sank again as she realized her son was not alone.

Not caring that her feet were soaked and dirty, or that she likely looked as if she had been dragged through the rose bushes backward, she tightened her hands into fists and marched across the piazza to the open doors of the greenhouse.

There, seated upon the stone lip of a fishpond, the water stirred up by a fountain in the shape of a cherub, was her son and his father.

The resemblance was even more glaring, seeing them side by side with their dark hair and their green eyes. Neither had noticed her yet, and appeared to be playing with paper boats, sailing them back and forth across the surface of the water.

“Just what do you think you are doing?” Octavia said, shaking.

And where on earth is Millicent?

She would never be so cruel as to remove someone like the nursemaid from her employment, but there would be some very stern words.

Malcolm glanced up, that radiant, breathtaking smile curving his mouth.

You will not disarm me with a smile today.

“Is it nae obvious?” he asked, laughter in his voice. “We made boats together. We’re still trying to see which will sink first. Aren’t we, lad?”

Simon nodded, grinning. “A fishie bit mine!”

“Nay, lad. ‘Twas nae a fishie, ‘twas a whale. A mighty whale that’s been plaguing our ships for weeks, trying to sink us.” Malcolm put on a funny accent, and the little boy laughed heartily; such a sweet, musical sound that it almost took the edge off Octavia’s anger.

Almost.

“I have been worried sick!” she blurted out, her fingernails digging into her palms. “I woke up, and my son was not there! Do you have any idea what that is like? Any idea of how afraid I was? You should not be here alone with my son, when I do not know where he is!”

Malcolm sat back slightly, his eyes narrowing in fresh confusion. His paper boat bumped into the side of the pool, and he made no move to retrieve it; he just stared at Octavia as if seeing her for the first time.

“Why should I nae spend time with my own son?” There was a deeper question in the tone of his voice, as if he was asking himself at the same time.

Perhaps, he was trying to piece a narrative together that might explain why he did not live with his family, why he had never met his son, and why Octavia was utterly furious right now.

Deciding that this was not a conversation she wanted to have in front of Simon, she went to him and scooped him into her arms. She hugged him fiercely, whispering, “You must never do that again, Simon. You must never run off and not tell me where you are.”

“I was with Papa,” he replied, clearly puzzled.

It was a curious sort of blow that struck Octavia squarely beneath the ribs. For so long, it had been just the two of them, and she did not know if she had the strength to share her son with his father. With a man who was not supposed to be anywhere near Huntfield.

“He told you he is your papa?” she asked tightly.

Simon pulled back, smiling. “He’s a nice papa.”

“I am sure he is.” Octavia put on a pretense of sweetness. “But you have to go inside and have your breakfast now, or you will not grow up to be big and strong.”

“Like Papa?”

Another blow to the chest.

“Exactly,” she said, her cheeks aching from the smile she had to force. “Now, can you tell me where Millicent is, so she can take you inside for breakfast?”

Simon pointed to the other end of the greenhouse, where the nursemaid lay fast asleep in a garden chair.

I suppose I kept her awake with all of my pacing, Octavia reasoned, not wanting to be too hard on the lovely nursemaid, whom Simon adored. After all, how was Millicent supposed to remove Simon if she had crossed paths with Malcolm by chance? The woman could not very well refuse the duke’s request to spend time with his son, could she?

Holding back her temper, Octavia carried the boy over to the nursemaid and gently woke her.

Millicent’s eyes snapped open, an expression of pure horror falling across her face as she saw Octavia standing there. “Your Grace, forgive me. I only meant to rest my eyes for a moment.” She paused, glancing down the greenhouse to where Malcolm still sat by the fishpond. “I couldn’t say no, Your Grace. He… was most insistent. We were just seeing if any strawberries had fruited yet, and… there he was.”