Page 27 of His Duchess to Remember

It was clear she was not going to be able to persuade him to stay at home, and people would notice if he behaved in anything less than a ducal fashion. Any mistake would be commented upon, any lapse in etiquette. Even if they did not suspect an addling of Malcolm’s mind, it would be an embarrassment to Octavia.

“Very well,” she muttered. “But I shall warn you now; I will be strict.”

Malcolm grinned and swirled his wine. “I look forward to it.”

CHAPTER TEN

Their first dancing lesson began the following afternoon, the summer sunshine beating down upon the estate. Much too hot to enjoy oneself outside.

The ballroom, however, offered little respite from the warmth of the day. Sunlight slanted in through the long windows, and Octavia was already sweltering, sweat beading upon her brow.

Then again, that might have had more to do with who she was waiting for than the heat of the room.

“Where is he?” she mumbled, her gaze flitting to the clock.

Malcolm was late. Five whole minutes late, which might not have seemed like much, but when she had been dreading this all day, those additional minutes were an unusual form of torture.

If anything, he should have been early, considering she was doing this for his benefit.

And he will come in smiling, acting like nothing is wrong…

The ballroom door opened and, as if summoned by her annoyed thoughts, Malcolm strode in.

“Good afternoon to ye, my lovely wife,” he said breezily, wearing his customary uniform of a flimsy shirt and an exposing kilt, his calves on display for all to see.

Octavia swallowed. “That will have to be the first thing to change.”

“What?” he asked, walking toward her, looking as if he had just stepped out of one of the romantic novels that her friends favored.

“Your attire,” she said tersely. “After this lesson, you are to go into town with Mr. Lincoln. He will take you to the tailor, and let us all pray that appropriate garments can be made for you in time.”

Malcolm glanced down at himself. “This is appropriate where I hail from. Aye, maybe I’d have on a waistcoat and tailcoat, but there’s naught wrong with the kilt.”

“You will cause the ladies to faint,” Octavia retorted.

“As long as it’s nae ye fainting, I don’t mind.” He smiled, his eyes shining with irreverence. “Of course, if ye do faint, I’ll be right there to catch ye.”

“You will wear trousers,” she argued, already losing some of her breath as she craned her neck to look up at him.

Why did he have to be so handsome? Why did he have to be so… cheerful and handsome? It was quite unfair to be both, particularly when that had not always been the case.

Malcolm shrugged. “If that’s yer preference, then fine; I’ll relent and suffocate my legs for yer comfort.”

“Thank you.” She huffed out a sigh. “Now, as there is no one in the manor who can play the pianoforte for us, we shall have to conduct the lesson without music.”

Malcolm took a half step closer. “I can hum, if ye like? Or we can just dance to the rhythm of our own music?”

She backed off, if only to prevent his proximity from stealing all of the breath in her lungs. “If you cannot take this seriously, then we shall not have a lesson at all.”

He put up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Apologies, lass. I assure ye, I am taking this very seriously. That last thing I want is to embarrass ye at a ball.”

“Well… good,” she mumbled, resting her hands on her hips. “I did some research about which dances were in favor a decade ago, and which have become more common in the years you have missing. So, we shall start with a quadrille, and then we shall move onto a… um… a waltz.”

Her tight throat barely managed to squeeze out the word. There were some in society who still thought the dance to be obscene, but, more often than not, it showed up at every ball.

Am I really going to teach my husband how to waltz with me?

If she could not handle him standing at such close proximity, how on earth was she supposed to get through an entire waltz? They would need to be far closer for that.