Page 26 of His Duchess to Remember

She grimaced at that, for she still was not quite comfortable in the gentleman’s company, her embarrassment leaving her awkward and aloof. But it would be nice to have an evening away from the manor, away from the current chaos of her sanctuary.

Her eyes drifted back to the towering, powerful figure of her husband as he led the horse in a slow trot, so capable and so in command that she could not help but stare a moment longer than appropriate.

Yes, I think a night away would serve me very well indeed.

At dinner that evening, Octavia was rather surprised by Malcolm’s lack of conversation. He sat in the same place as the night before, concentrating on his meal until the clink of cutlery on the plates and the ticking of the clock on the wall quickly became interminable.

“Simon would not stop talking about his adventures this morning,” she said, needing something other than the dense silence. “All day, he chirped about it.”

Malcolm looked up. “Ah, ye heard about that?”

“Nothing happens in this manor without my knowledge,” she replied.

“He has good instincts.” Malcolm set down his knife and fork to pick up his wine glass. “Actually, I meant to ask if ye might permit me to buy the lad a pony of his own? Something small, something safe, something to grow his confidence.”

Octavia coughed, her heart squeezing in panic. “A pony? Oh, no. He is far too young for a pony.”

“I began to ride at three,” he said. “I had this wee mountain pony. Stocky and stout as anything. Sturdy, I mean. We were best friends, that pony and me. I… don’t quite remember what happened to him, but I have so many fond memories of him.”

Octavia suddenly wished she had not broken the silence at all. This was another thing that she had been concerned about: her husband coming into her home and changing everything, taking over as the authority, disrupting the peaceful and comfortable routine that she had created.

“When he is older, perhaps,” she insisted curtly.

Malcolm looked like he might argue, but then he dipped his head in a small nod. “Very well. Until then, I’ll keep teaching him with that sweet mare, Bessie. He’s very fond of her already.”

She stared at him, frustration rising afresh. That was not what she had meant. She did not want Simon riding at all. She did not want him to do anything that might result in injury or danger. But, seeing as she had already permitted it by doing nothing, she did not know how she was supposed to forbid it now.

“I am attending a ball next week. I shall, however, come back the same night, though I cannot yet say what time,” she said stiffly. “The nursemaids will take care of Simon in my absence. Of course, you will be at liberty to spend time with him, but do not do anything that might distress me to hear about upon my return.”

Malcolm dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin, one eyebrow raised in something like amusement. “Well, there’ll be nay surprises, lass, considering I’ll be there at the ball with ye.”

“Pardon?” Her own eyebrows shot toward her hairline.

“I’ll accompany ye,” he replied with a shrug. “What else would a husband do? I can’t very well let ye go off to a ball on yer own. It wouldn’t be seemly.”

“But… But… the doctor said you could not overexert yourself!” she blurted in response, shocked by the casual manner in which he had just invited himself.

Although Joan’s invitation had been addressed to both Octavia and Malcolm. A sure sign that there was slightly more to this ball than met the eye: an exercise in her friends satisfying their intrigue.

“We’ll dance slowly,” he said with a sly smirk that left her blushing and somewhat breathless.

She rested a hand on her chest in a vain attempt to steady herself. “You would not want people to know about your injury, though, would you? There will be… many people there at the ball. It might ignite rumors.” Panicked, she gestured to his plate. “You keep forgetting things. What if you forget something important, in terms of etiquette, and it causes a scandal?”

“Like what?” He tilted his head to one side. “Like… kissing my wife in front of everyone? Holding yer hand too tenderly? Dancing too close to ye?”

Her eyes bugged, her heart tapping wildly at her ribcage. Was he trying to torment her? Did he truly think that he could woo her by flirting like this? Had he no shame? Perhaps such tactics might have worked with other ladies, but not her. She did not want to be flirted with, despite what the feverish flush of her skin and the beat of her heart might have suggested.

“Besides, people might talk if I’m nae there,” he said, smirking. “It won’t have gone entirely unnoticed that I’ve returned. So, if we’re to be in trouble either way, I might as well attend with my wife.”

Octavia could not conjure up a riposte fast enough, her mind too busy with the notion of his kiss to think of anything to say. And he was right: her friends, at least, would be expecting his attendance, and some of them were less tight-lipped than others. For all she knew, for she did not read the papers or the scandal sheets, half of society was aware of Malcolm’s reappearance already.

“It is not wise,” was all she could muster.

He shrugged. “I don’t mind the risk.” He sipped his wine. “Besides, ye can teach me anything I might have forgotten. They must have invented a few new dances over the past ten years; ye can be my tutor in this shiny new era of society.”

Once again, words failed Octavia. Her face burned, her brain all a-fluster, her stomach twisting into knots, and there was no wine left in her glass to ease her struggle.

What choice do I have? she reasoned.