Page 13 of His Duchess to Remember

But as her search took her to an empty breakfast room, an empty dining room, and to the kitchen staff who had not seen her boy, any sense of calm evaporated.

What if Millicent had left to go to her quarters and rest, figuring her presence was not required if Octavia was already in the nursery? What if Millicent had informed the day nursemaid to take over, but the day nursemaid had been delayed? What if, in that gap of time, Simon had awoken, seen the door partially open, and seized his opportunity for adventuring alone?

He did like to wander. It would not have been the first time he had snuck off to explore.

Oh heavens, no…

Octavia opened every door and looked inside, her heart beating hard in her chest, her desperation rising with every room that her son was not occupying: he was not in the library, the music room, the sun room, the drawing room, the secondary parlor, the study.

She was on the verge of screaming, her nerves on a knife edge, when she caught sight of the butler coming down the main stairs in something of a rush.

“Mr. Lincoln?” she called out.

The butler stopped, wide-eyed, and blanched at the sight of her. Not exactly a good sign.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” he said, moving again, coming toward her.

“Have you seen Simon?” she asked, forgoing niceties. “He is not in the nursery. He is not having his breakfast.”

The butler frowned. “I haven’t, Your Grace.”

“Do you know where Millicent might be?”

“I haven’t seen her either, Your Grace.” His frown deepened. “I apologize for using the main stairs, but I… went to see what His Grace would like for breakfast, and… well, he was not there. I had hoped to find him before you awoke.”

An awful thought surged into Octavia’s mind. “Do you think he has kidnapped my son?”

“What?”

“The duke. Do you think he has kidnapped my son?” she repeated, realizing full well how insane she sounded.

“I highly doubt it, Your Grace,” the butler replied in a soothing tone. “The young master will be with his nursemaid somewhere. Perhaps he was fussing, and Millicent didn’t want to wake you, so she took him to play.”

“Well, she should have woken me!” Octavia rasped, her heart racing so fast she feared it might either burst from her chest or stop altogether.

Where would she take Simon to play at such an hour?

It was a pleasant morning, dry and clear, but not yet too hot from the summer sunshine. She thought of yesterday, and how fervently her son had enjoyed the reflecting pool.

“I must search everywhere,” she said, heading for the front door. “And you must help me.”

The butler followed without question, wearing an expression of concern that Octavia did not like one bit.

What if Malcolm really had taken their son away? It was not that she did not believe there had been an accident, and that her husband was suffering some malady of the mind, but what if there were other symptoms of the injury? It had already changed Malcolm’s behavior completely. What if it could change his behavior again, making him do something rash?

He might think he needs to take his heir to Highcastle. Goodness, he might be mad!

She felt sick just considering it: her son, frightened and alone with that stranger, riding the never-ending journey to Scotland, to the rainy glen where Malcolm had his family seat. A journey she could still remember keenly.

Dew soaked through her stockinged feet, for she had not paused to put on shoes. Half-running across the lawns, she barely winced as she met the white gravel of the ornamental gardens, so fixated upon finding her son that there was no time for pain or discomfort.

Simon was not at the reflecting pool, nor was he at the pavilion where he sometimes liked to play. He was not in the apple orchard or under the cherry blossom trees. He could not be found where the roses grew or in the rockery where he liked to lift the stones to see what insects were living beneath.

Where is he? Oh, heavens, where is he?

She pushed through an iron gate into the sheltered realm of the walled gardens, but could not find him there either. Still, she pressed on, until there was no garden left to search… only the beautiful greenhouses that stood across a charming piazza of cool, white marble.

“Oh… oh, thank goodness…” she croaked, her heart leaping into her throat as she spotted a little figure through the glass.