Page 35 of His Duchess to Remember

“Most gentlemen would be furious that their wife was ever involved in a scandal,” she explained quietly, shyly. “Or they would prefer to behave as if it never happened. I… assumed you were the latter, since we have not spoken of it again.”

“I assumed ye didn’t want to speak of it,” he said.

They drifted apart and turned toward their neighbor, performing the same bow and curtsey. A complicated sequence of hops and twirls followed, delaying the conversation for a moment.

“Why would you think that?” she asked when they came back together in a promenade, their arms crossed over each other.

“Ye were quiet during dinner. Clearly, the ordeal caused ye a great deal of strife; I thought I’d let ye be the one to talk of it more if ye wished to,” he explained, his hands warm against hers. “But I’m nae furious with ye, and I’m nae indifferent. I just didn’t want to press ye about something that brings ye pain.”

He meant it. In truth, he felt somewhat stupid for not insisting on discussing it during the dinners they had shared, so he could put her mind at ease.

Clearly, she had assumed the worst about him, comparing him to all of the gentlemen that she feared and distrusted. Of course she had, after what she had suffered.

She frowned up at him. “I do not understand you. You are so… different to the ton’s gentlemen.”

He laughed softly as they broke apart, moving down the sides of the dance floor until they found one another again at the end of the line. Their palms touched again, turning in a slow circle.

“I’m a Scot, lass,” he told her with a fond smile. “English society’s rules mean nothing to me. Why would I be furious or upset with ye because of something ye had no control over? The only person I’m furious with is the man who tried to hurt ye. I’d kill him if I could.”

Laurence had not given a name, though Malcolm had asked. Why the wretch needed protecting, Malcolm did not know, but he did not want to distress Octavia further by pressing the matter. If she said it had been dealt with satisfactorily, then he would not seek his own retribution.

She laughed nervously. “I do not doubt that.”

“All I care about is yer safety,” he said, stepping a little closer than was appropriate. “I hate that ye were ever so scared, and in such danger, and I didn’t ken ye, so I couldn’t be there to protect ye.”

She gazed up at him, and, seeing the unexpected warmth in her eyes, he wished they were alone in the Huntfield ballroom, practicing the waltz again. He would not risk embroiling her in another scandal by holding her as he wanted to, but he could imagine it.

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for being so… reasonable.”

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t go that far.” He leaned in slightly, humor in his voice as he added, “I am a little jealous that someone else has yer gratitude.”

“Then, I probably should not tell you that, once upon a time, I thought I was in love with Laurence,” she teased, amusement in her eyes.

Something twinged in his chest. “Ye did?”

She nodded. “It is embarrassing to admit now. I was young, and I was confused. I believe I had read too many novels about chivalry, and knights and damsels falling in love after a daring rescue.” She cast her gaze toward Joan and Laurence. “But it was always meant to be those two.”

“Are ye really trying to ignite my jealousy?” he asked, his fingers sliding between hers as they moved into a second promenade.

If she was, it was working.

She shook her head. “I am just trying to be honest.” She paused, her cheeks pink. “I never did love him, though. It was always just… gratitude. Back then, the distinction got all muddled.”

He took a breath to calm himself. It made sense that a young lady, rescued from danger, would think she was in love with her savior.

“So, ye don’t love him?”

She smiled. “I do not. Never have. He is entirely Joan’s, and I am…”

Her smile faded, and she quickly looked away.

“Ye are what?” he prompted, a flicker of hope flaring in his chest.

“I am… sworn off men entirely,” she replied flatly. “Just as I told you.”

The little flame dwindled down to nothing.

He did not know what he had expected her to say, but she had looked at him with such warmth that he had hoped things might be changing. Thawing.