Page 40 of His Duchess to Remember

“It does not matter what I make of him,” Octavia replied defensively.

Evelyn got up and came to sit beside her sister-in-law. “On the contrary, I think it matters just as much.” She brushed a lock of hair out of Octavia’s face. “Do you feel something for him?”

“What?” Octavia spluttered. “No, of course not. I… could not possibly. I do not trust men, I do not like men, I do not… I could not… I mean, he is… I…”

Evelyn smiled. “Forgive me if I am speaking out of turn, but if you were not confused about him, you would be furious, not troubled. You would not have hesitated to accept Hugo’s offer to get him out of your house.” She paused. “Are you enjoying spending time with him too?”

“He is… different, that is all,” Octavia replied, feeling rather vulnerable. “He is amusing and charming and sweet and caring, and he does not avoid looking at me. He has told me that he means to woo me and win my trust, but… he is not himself. And yes, I am behaving strangely around him: my heart beats faster when he is near, and my hands shake when he touches me or looks at me a certain way. But it does not mean I have feelings for him. This is exactly what happened with Laurence: I mistook gratitude for love then, and I am mistaking confusion for… something more now.”

Evelyn chuckled. “Or you got it exactly right this time, and you are, against your wishes, falling in love with your husband.”

Not a single word could force its way out of Octavia’s throat as she sat there, staring at her sister-in-law in abject disbelief. Of course, Evelyn was wrong. She had to be. Because if Octavia was falling in love with her husband…

What a terrible thought.

It would be the same as doting on a wolf, not knowing when the beast would turn on her.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Do ye happen to ken where my wife is?” Malcolm asked the butler, rather at a loss with what to do with himself.

He had been awake since before dawn, unable to sleep much while his mind was drowning in thoughts of his joyous dance with Octavia, and how lovely it had been to carry her in his arms. Not wanting to disturb anyone, he had gone directly to his study where, by some miracle of his altered brain, he had managed to make some headway with the ledgers and correspondence that required immediate attention.

Documents and notes and memoranda were continually being sent from Scotland as fast as possible, to ensure that his business endeavors did not fall behind. And some part of his mind did seem to remember how to be a man of enterprise, if not the specifics.

But he had grown tired, in the physical sense, of staring at numbers and lengthy letters from people he did not know anymore. He had thought he might spend some time with his wife and son to reinvigorate himself but, thus far, they were nowhere to be found.

“Her Grace left earlier this morning,” the butler replied. “To visit friends.”

The haste with which Mr. Lincoln added that latter part sparked a flicker of suspicion in Malcolm’s chest.

“Might I ask which friends?” he asked.

The butler chewed his lip and could not look Malcolm in the eye. “She… didn’t say, Your Grace.”

“Did she say when she might be back?”

The butler shook his head. “She didn’t, but I expect it will be before dinner. Her friends don’t live far away.”

It was not the comfort Malcolm had hoped for. Surely, Octavia would not take Simon away from him, would she? He could not think of anything he had done yesterday that might have driven her to such extremes.

“She will be back, Your Grace,” the butler urged, perhaps sensing Malcolm’s growing unease.

Malcolm put on a smile. “Of course.” He paused. “I think I’ll take a walk.”

He doubted it would fix his anxiety, but it was the only thing he could think of to stop his mind from racing and rushing to the worst possible conclusions.

“What did I miss?” Hugo asked as he breezed back into the drawing room.

Octavia still had not said a word, too dumbstruck to reply to Evelyn’s… accusation. It was ridiculous. Ludicrous. Impossible. There was no chance whatsoever that she was falling in love with her husband. Why, it would be as useless as falling in love with a hero from a story, without the happy ending.

“Is everything all right?” Evelyn asked him.

Hugo smiled. “Of course, my love. The new footman was carrying a vase to the kitchens to replace the water.” His smile tightened. “He dropped it.”

“Vase?” Evelyn’s eyes widened in panic. “Which vase?”

“The cracked one you hide at the back of the entrance hall,” Hugo said in a soothing tone. “I would not have returned so casually if it had been one of your favorites.”