Page 16 of His Duchess to Remember

Do I ken that scent?

He closed his eyes and tried to remember, but there was nothing where so many years should have been. It was not a feeling of memories dancing on the tip of his tongue or the edge of his thoughts, but a complete blockade. If his mind were a library, whole sections had been bricked up and sealed off.

“Why would I have made a deal like that?” he asked himself, opening his eyes again.

When the doctor had informed him that he had a wife at Huntfield House, a manor in the south of England, it was the first time since waking from his accident that he had felt a spark of remembrance. He had not been able to recall Octavia’s face or anything about her, or even much about Huntfield House, but it had been enough to make him want to be near her.

Why will she nae answer me when I ask her what I did to make her want my absence?

That troubled him, as he glanced at the spot where she had departed. The greenhouse doors were wide open, letting in the cool of the morning air.

Did I hurt her? Did I betray her?

He picked up Simon’s paper boat and frowned at it, as if it might be a secret letter with an explanation hidden inside.

With a strained sigh, he flattened the boat and slipped it into his pocket for safekeeping.

My son. My sweet lad.

It had been such a happy morning; the happiest since his injury, and all the confusion that had come afterwards. He could have played for hours with his cheerful, charming son, getting to know one another slowly, organically.

“I meant what I said, lass,” he murmured, his gaze traveling toward the manor. “I won’t be leaving my family again.”

Perhaps, he no longer wished to remember the past ten years. Perhaps, he did not want to remember what he had done to make his wife so averse to him.

Octavia still could not quite catch her breath as she returned indoors and walked directly to the breakfast room, where she knew Millicent and Simon would be.

Be patient, she told herself, pausing just outside the breakfast room. Your husband will recover, and he will leave again, and everything will be fine.

This was all just temporary. This was all just a minor inconvenience in what had otherwise been an excellent marriage of convenience. When he remembered himself, he would change back to the way he was, and he would apologize, and he would go back to Highcastle without delay.

She had to keep telling herself that, or she would go mad. Her life was not designed to have a husband in it; she had curated it that way, and she would not allow Malcolm to ruin it… even if she did sympathize with his affliction. It could not have been easy to remember nothing of the past decade, nor to live with that confusion.

With a steadying breath, she pushed into the breakfast room with a forced smile upon her face.

Simon sat at the far end of the table with a plate of eggs, while Millicent stood a short distance away, by the window, keeping an eye on him. Relief and chagrin warred for priority upon the maid’s face as she saw Octavia.

“I really am sorry, Your Grace,” Millicent said, her hands tightly clasped. “It wasn’t my intention for him to meet Simon.”

Octavia approached. “I know, Millicent. I do not blame you. Now, you go on to your quarters to have your rest.” She paused. “I need to have a word with my son.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” The nursemaid bowed her head and scurried out of the breakfast room as fast as her legs could carry her.

Through a mouthful of eggs, Simon looked up at his mother and said, “You scared her.”

“I did not mean to,” Octavia replied, pulling out a chair to sit beside him. “I was just so worried about where you were, but all is forgiven now. I am not cross with Millicent.”

Simon scooped another spoonful of eggs into his mouth, providing Octavia the perfect opportunity to explain without interruption.

“Simon, my darling boy, I… do not want you to get too attached to the duke,” she began haltingly. “I know you must have had a lovely time playing boats with him this morning, but… he is not feeling very well.”

“Papa has a sore head,” Simon said with a nod, as if that was all the explanation he needed.

“Yes… Yes, he does have a sore head, but he is also a very busy gentleman. He will not be staying with us long. As soon as his head is not so sore, he will be leaving again, and… you might never see him again after that,” she told him carefully, hoping that it was not already too late to avoid her son getting hurt.

Simon paused in his eating and turned to her, his green eyes scrunched in consternation. “Why not?”

“Because he will be too busy.” Octavia swallowed. “He is a gentleman of business up in Scotland and the journey is immense. He will not be able to travel back and forth, not when he needs to be in Scotland.”