Page 48 of His Duchess to Remember

Jumping down from the saddle, Malcolm ran up the steps of an arched porch and banged on the door. Within, a dog barked a warning.

The door opened a few moments later to reveal an austere-looking butler. “May I help you, sir?” He frowned, then his eyes widened. “Your Grace? Apologies. I was not aware you would be visiting. Please, do come in. I shall have the footman take your horse.”

“Thank ye,” Malcolm said gruffly, as he pushed into the townhouse.

He had been here just twice before, but he had not forgotten it. Agitated, his head pounding as more memories broke through the veil of his amnesia, he took himself to the drawing room to wait for his friend, Anthony Drew, the Duke of Knotgill.

The dog that had furiously barked, a liver-and-white spaniel with ears so long they almost trailed on the floor, pattered over to him and sat down. Reaching down, Malcolm sought to calm himself by petting the dog… but it was not working.

A short while later, the door opened, and Anthony entered.

“I thought the butler had gone mad when he said you were here,” he said with a hesitant smile. “I told him, 'It cannot possibly be Malcolm Gale; he would rather break his own ankles than set foot in England again'. Yet, here you are.”

Malcolm gave his friend a strained look. “Aye, here I am.”

“What brings you here?” Anthony sat down on the opposite settee. “I am not displeased, do not mistake me, but this is highly unusual. I mean, when did I last see you? It must have been…”

“Half a year, give or take,” Malcolm replied.

The last time they had seen one another was at Highcastle. Anthony had come up to Scotland, as he did every year, to hunt on Malcolm’s estate with his two brothers and a few other guests.

It was, in truth, how they had met in the first place. Malcolm had just inherited his dukedom out of nowhere and was struggling with his new reality when Anthony had turned up on the doorstep of Highcastle. Apparently, he had had an agreement with the previous duke to hunt every year on his lands, and he was keen to continue the arrangement.

What had begun as a rather brazen request had turned into an unexpected and very timely friendship. Anthony had stayed a while at Highcastle to help Malcolm, training him in how to be a duke, offering advice, and even setting him up with his first couple of business associates.

“You did not respond to my last couple of letters,” Anthony said, an eyebrow raised. “I have been wondering, in truth, if I should ride up to Highcastle to ensure that you had not died.”

“As ye can see, I’m alive,” Malcolm said grimly.

“Well, you do not look too happy about it,” Anthony teased, a note of true worry subtly lacing his words. “What is the matter? It must be grave indeed if it has brought you all the way to London.”

It was no secret that Malcolm despised the city. He could run an estate, engage in successful business endeavors, welcome peers into his castle to hunt game, and fight in wars with skill and without fear, but he could not bear the frippery and pomp of balls, dinner parties, and everything else that came with being part of society. Especially the London kind.

I had forgotten that…

“I find myself in a… strange situation,” Malcolm replied, furrowing his brow.

“Consider me curious,” Anthony encouraged, as he sat back and waited patiently.

“Some weeks ago, I was out riding,” Malcolm began. “I heard someone cry out, so I went to investigate. There were two lads on the riverbank, screaming. I assume they’d been fishing in my river; they had a few trout hanging from a pole.

“They were only young and frightened out of their minds. I kenned them, albeit vaguely. Took me a while to realize what it was they were screaming about, when I saw another lad’s head pop out of the water. He was drowning, and the current was fierce. The water was deep, but my horse had crossed that river a thousand times.

“I took Rogue in, and I got to the boy. Dragged him out and put him on the saddle. We were almost back on dry land when a water rat came shooting out of its hole, and bit Rogue on the leg. My horse doesn’t spook easily, as ye ken, but he bucked and I… fell backward into the river. My leg must have been tangled in the reins because he eventually pulled me out before I ended up drowning, but I’d… hit my head on something. A rock under the water. I was out cold.

“When I woke up, I was in my bedchamber at the castle with no memory of where I was or how I got there. There was a doctor there, and he told me the boy was fine and had gone home with his brothers. I didn’t remember any boy, but he explained the accident, as recounted by the brothers. Then, gradually, it turned out that I hadn’t just forgotten the accident; I’d forgotten the past ten years of my life. In my mind, I was three-and-twenty, still in my first weeks as a soldier at war.”

It felt peculiar to have the memories right there, so readily available. He had not forgotten everything that had happened since the accident, and had certainly not forgotten the inexplicable frustration of reaching for a memory, only to find absolutely nothing where it should be.

Anthony blinked, slack-jawed.

“My brother wasn’t yet dead, my mother wasn’t yet dead, and I had nay notion that I was a duke,” Malcolm added thickly. “The doctor had to explain everything to me. Even then, it took me a while to believe him.”

Anthony shook his head as if to dislodge the shock, though his eyes remained wide. “What of your wife? I assume you did not remember her?”

“Again, I had to be told, but… as soon as I heard about her, I rode away from Highcastle and went straight to her,” Malcolm said, a tightness in his chest. “Even now, I have nay idea why I did that. I didn’t ken her. She wasn’t anything to me.”

His chest constricted even more at those last five words, for though he now recalled the past decade, he also recalled the time he had spent with Octavia since his accident. Getting to know her, feeling such warmth toward her, wanting to be part of a family with her, certain that he would never desire to leave her side again.