Page 38 of His Duchess to Remember

She recalled leaving the ball and then… nothing.

Did Malcolm put me here? Did he carry me?

There was no other explanation for it.

Startled by the revelation, she threw back the blanket that had been carefully draped across her and rushed out of the room. She was still wearing her gown, but she hitched up the long skirts so she could sprint to her own bedchamber.

The maid was in there, laying a fire.

“Christine!” Octavia yelped, for she had hoped to be alone.

The maid jumped. “Your Grace. Goodness, you frightened me.”

“Apologies. Apologies.” Octavia hastily closed the door and began pulling off her gloves.

“Let me help you, Your Grace,” the maid said.

Octavia took a steadying breath. “Yes, thank you. That would be very kind.”

Before long, she was out of her lovely gown and wearing something more appropriate for the day: a simple dress of light green muslin, her hair freshly combed and re-pinned, her face refreshed by a good wash at the basin.

“Do you happen to know how I ended up in one of the guest rooms?” she asked the maid, her mood calmer.

Christine hid a smile. “A guest room, Your Grace? I just… assumed you had spent the night in your husband’s chambers.”

“Well, I did not,” Octavia retorted.

“Apologies, Your Grace. I didn’t mean to cause offence.” The maid bowed her head. “I saw His Grace carrying you upstairs. I shouldn’t have assumed; you’re quite right.”

So, Malcolm had carried her to bed. Octavia shook her head, half-wishing she had been awake to experience it, half-wishing she had not fallen asleep in the carriage.

Things were becoming altogether too complicated, the lines of her treasured marriage of convenience blurring.

I need advice. I need someone to tell me what to do.

“Christine, could you speak to Mr. Lincoln and have the carriage brought around?” she said abruptly.

The maid quirked an eyebrow. “Where shall I say you’re going, Your Grace?”

“To my brother’s.”

“Will His Grace be joining you?”

“No!” Octavia yelped, calming her voice as she added, “No, thank you. I shall take Simon with me. If His Grace asks where I am, just say that I have gone to visit friends.”

Christine bowed her head. “Very good, Your Grace.”

The maid departed quickly, and it was not long before Octavia followed her out, so she could get Simon ready as swiftly as possible. Preferably before Malcolm had any idea that his wife and son were not planning to be at home today.

“Well, this is an unexpected surprise,” Hugo said, glancing up from the morning papers. “What brings you here, dear sister?”

Octavia had clearly intruded on simple, romantic domesticity. Hugo sat reading his papers on the settee in the drawing room, while Evelyn sat close to him, her legs tucked beneath her, her head on his shoulder, reading a book.

“And my most excellent nephew!” Hugo brightened and set down his papers, holding out his arms for Simon.

The boy laughed giddily and ran toward his uncle, climbing up into his lap.

Hugo and Evelyn immediately turned all their attention toward the little boy, lavishing him with attention, asking about his latest adventures, while threatening to let him have all of the cakes in the kitchen.