Page 25 of His Duchess to Remember

He did not know if there was a part of Doctor Stanforth’s ankle analogy where the broken bone healed and became better than the original, but as he continued to lead his son around the paddock, he hoped that he might be that rarity.

I never want to miss another moment…

If that meant wishing to never remember anything of the past decade, then so be it; he would wish with all of his might.

CHAPTER NINE

Of all the presumptuous, arrogant scoundrels…

Octavia watched in horror from the window of her study, where she had been tending to a small pile of correspondence. The sound of her son’s laughter was what had drawn her to the window, but it was the sight of him riding a horse that held her frozen, anger and admiration fighting a duel in her mind.

She had not denied Simon the joy of riding horses for no good reason: the beasts were unpredictable, they were enormous in comparison to her son, and he was simply too young. Yet, there Malcolm was, defying her.

I suppose I did not tell him that I am averse, but someone should have!

The stablemaster certainly understood her wishes, but someone had saddled the horse.

Arms crossed, she could not decide what to do about the matter. Should she go out there and scold her husband? Should she just watch and be glad that Simon was in safe hands?

She heard her son’s laughter again, saw his beaming face, and sank down onto the window seat. No, she would not intervene. Simon was enjoying himself, and the mare was a sweet and placid creature.

He truly seems at ease in his father’s company.

She wished she could say the same, for she could not even look at Malcolm without feeling somewhat flustered, especially after his recent flirtations.

“It is not real,” she whispered to herself, as she admired Malcolm’s tall and imposing figure; the broadness of his shoulders, the way his back rippled beneath his shirt.

Apparently, he was incapable of dressing properly. She had yet to see him in a tailcoat or trousers or waistcoat or cravat, for he was constantly in his uniform of shirt and kilt.

I might not mind it, but what will other people think?

Her friends knew that Malcolm was here, and it would not be long before their curiosity got the better of them. She could already imagine them just ‘passing by’ quite by chance and not at all deliberately, to meet the duke they all had such stern opinions about. The duke that, for the most part, they had never met.

Only Evelyn, Victoria, and Harriet had attended the wedding, alongside Dominic and, of course, Hugo. To everyone else, Malcolm was a mysterious stranger.

Who should have stayed that way…

She groaned and pushed away from the window, crossing the room with the intention of heading to the paddock after all, when a knock came at the door.

Octavia opened the door to find the butler standing there. “Is all well, Mr. Lincoln? If you have come to tell me that my son is riding horses with his father, I am already aware.”

“Oh… no, I wasn’t aware of that,” the butler said, and held out a silver tray. “I just came to deliver your post, Your Grace.”

Familiar handwriting looped across the topmost letter. Just as Octavia had suspected, her friends’ curiosity had begun to creep in.

“Thank you, Mr. Lincoln,” she said, picking up the small stack of letters.

The butler hesitated. “Would you like me to speak with His Grace about the horse-riding?”

“No. No, it is already too late. I would not ruin my son’s morning, nor would I make myself the enemy who does not let him have fun,” she replied with a weary smile.

“Very good, Your Grace.” The butler bowed his head and departed, while Octavia closed the door again and retraced her steps back to the window seat.

There, her attention split, she opened up the first letter.

Her eyes widened in pleasant surprise, for it was an invitation from Joan to attend a ball the following week. Evidently, she had decided against a garden party.

Laurence will be there.