Page 61 of His Duchess to Remember

“It is the least I can do,” Stanforth replied, hesitating. “But, if I may, why have you not yet told your wife of your condition?”

They had broached the subject at the door, upon the doctor’s arrival, but any thorough conversation had been interrupted by Octavia’s presence. A risk of her overhearing that Malcolm had not been prepared to take.

“Because Simon is sick,” Malcolm replied, in a tone that suggested it should have been obvious. “I won’t leave while he’s still unwell.”

The doctor nodded. “That is probably wise. She’ll need your reassurance.” He paused, staring down into his lap. “However, I don’t think you should leave it too long, where it might seem like you’re deliberately lying to her. In my limited experience, ladies don’t take too kindly to that.”

“I will tell her when the time is right,” Malcolm retorted sharply.

“Of course, Your Grace. I meant no offense.” Stanforth scraped back his chair and rose. “As I mentioned before, I would be more than happy to tell her for you. If it’s a matter of explaining properly or⁠—”

“I will tell her when the time is right,” Malcolm repeated, his patience wafer thin.

He did not need anyone else to do the difficult tasks for him.

The doctor bowed his head. “Yes, Your Grace. I will leave you in peace. Her Grace will be eager to hear my opinion of your son’s illness, no doubt, so I shall go and allay her fears.”

“Say nothing of my memories,” Malcolm warned.

“I won’t, Your Grace,” the doctor promised.

With that, he left, and though Malcolm had a mountain of work to attend to, he found that he could not open the ledger and begin. Instead, his thoughts drifted upward to the nursery, to his son, and to the woman who would remain at Simon’s bedside all day and all night unless someone could coax her away to rest and eat. A woman with such love in her heart, who adored Simon in a way that all children deserved to be adored.

The lass I abandoned to do all of this alone.

For the next two days, Octavia kept a vigil at her son’s bedside. Doctor Stanforth took over the medicine duties, appearing to feed some to Simon every few hours, while she dripped water into Simon’s mouth and tried to get him to eat some soup in the rare moments when he opened his eyes.

Malcolm came and went, never saying much, his smiles all but gone, the dark crescents beneath his eyes becoming more bruised. She had heard from the staff that he was in his study most of the time, tending to business, which she supposed she should have been grateful for. But, in truth, she just wanted him to be there with her, with his arms around her, as he had done on the night Simon fell ill.

“Doctor?” she said quietly, the next time Stanforth came into the nursery.

He knelt at the boy’s bedside and began to prepare the medicine. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“May I ask you something?”

The doctor seemed to freeze. “Of course, Your Grace. What’s troubling you?” He would not look at her. “Are you worried about the young master still? I assure you, he is improving. I realize that he isn’t yet alert and awake, but his fever is reducing well, and I am confident that in another day or two, he’ll be more like himself.”

She was, of course, grateful for such positive news, but that was not what she wished to discuss.

“No… it is to do with my husband,” she said.

Stanforth poured too much onto the spoon, a dribble dripping down to the floor. He muttered under his breath and grabbed his own handkerchief to clean it up, before bringing the medicine to Simon’s lips.

She had the sense that he was delaying, buying some time for himself, but she could not be certain.

“Doctor?” she prompted.

“Goodness, I’m sorry,” he replied quickly. “Just grant me one more moment to give him another dose, and I’ll answer whatever you wish to ask.”

She frowned, that nagging sensation tugging at the back of her thoughts. The feeling that something was wrong.

Still, she waited patiently for the doctor to finish pouring the medicine and helping Simon to drink it down. Whatever curiosities she had, she would not risk her son’s welfare for them.

When he was done, he packed up his things and made to stand… as if she had not spoken to him at all.

“Doctor?” she said a third time, more impatient this time.

Stanforth blinked down at her. “What can I help you with?”