Page 34 of His Duchess to Remember

“Oh…” Frances’ eyes widened. “Oh, well… that is wonderful.”

“And this is Joan and Laurence, the Duke and Duchess of Ashcroft,” Octavia said, feeling less anxious by the moment.

Malcolm raised a curious eyebrow, a different sort of smile appearing on his lips. Without hesitation, he put his hand out to Laurence.

“Might I have a word with ye?” he asked, as Laurence shook his hand.

“Uh… yes, of course,” Laurence replied.

Octavia watched, puzzled, as the two gentlemen walked a short distance away, out of earshot. There did not seem to be any animosity or awkwardness; Malcolm’s demeanor relaxed as he spoke and Laurence nodded.

“What is that about?” Frances whispered.

Octavia shook her head. “I do not have the faintest notion.”

Oh… Oh no…

She thought back to the story she had told about the scandal and the duel. What if Malcolm blamed Laurence for it? What if there was a misunderstanding?

The two men returned a few minutes later, neither of them looking like they had just had a hushed argument. Instead, there was a friendliness between them, an unspoken accord that had Octavia dying of curiosity.

“Is all well?” Joan asked.

Malcolm nodded. “Aye, all’s well. I just wanted to thank yer husband.”

“Thank him?” Joan frowned.

“For his assistance in keeping my wife safe, before I kenned her,” Malcolm replied, as he moved to stand beside Octavia again, his arm resuming its place around her waist.

A soft gasp slipped from Octavia’s throat as she peered up at him, stunned by the revelation. He had not reacted badly to her explanation of the events, but nor had he brought it up at the dinners they had shared. She had assumed he wanted to bury it and pretend he had never heard about it, so for him to thank Laurence…

Her heart warmed; she could not help it.

“Shall we dance, lass?” Malcolm asked.

She nodded before she could stop herself. “I think that would be… pleasant.”

Indeed, after what he had just done, she doubted she would mind if he missed a few steps… as long as he did not lift her into the air or hold her too close.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“You did not need to do that,” Octavia said, as the music for the next set began and the couples stepped out onto the floor.

A few nerves jittered in Malcolm’s stomach, distracting him from his wife and her kind words. His head was crammed to bursting with all of the dances he had studied and the steps that had to be remembered. Rather more alarmingly, he had visions of Mr. Lincoln showing him what to do, the butler gliding and hopping around the Huntfield ballroom with surprising grace.

“Malcolm?”

The sound of his name, spoken for the second time that night, snapped his attention right back to her. He had never thought much of his name, but from her lips, it was a magical thing.

“Apologies,” he said with a smile, taking his position. “What did I nae need to do?”

They moved toward each other, her curtseying and him bowing to the lilt of the music.

“Thank Laurence like that,” she replied, as they raised their hands, palms touching. “I did not expect it.”

“Whyever nae?”

Together, they turned in a clockwise circle, before twisting around to come back in the opposite direction.