Page 53 of His Duchess to Remember

She squeezed her eyes shut in frustration, but there was no respite there. All she could see was Malcolm’s face when he had grabbed her hand on the bowling green: the fear, the confusion, the sweeping, crushing pain that had creased his eyes and clenched his jaw.

Was it really just a headache?

Deep down, she doubted it, but he was not there to ask. He had denied her that.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, and threw back the coverlets.

Clambering out of bed, she grabbed her housecoat off the back of her writing desk chair and headed out into the darkened corridors of the manor.

Halfway to the landing, she considered going up to the nursery to sneak into bed beside her son. Maybe the comfort of being near to her beloved boy would be enough to send her off to sleep. Then again, she might disturb his sleep, and then he would be grouchy tomorrow.

With a groan, cursing her husband for throwing her life into disarray for a second time, she made her way downstairs and sought out the peace of the library. If she could not sleep, she would read a book, and choose something so dull that it might finally knock her out.

Opening the library door, she froze. The fire had been lit, an orange glow bathing the reading chairs… and the figure who sat in the nearest one, his back to her.

The wavy curls at the nape of his neck, the broad shelf of his shoulders, the glimpse of his muscular forearm draped on the armrest, a glass of something in his hand; she would have known him anywhere.

He is here. He came back.

“I did not realize you had returned,” she said, instead of the relief she wished she could show. “Indeed, I did not realize anyone else was here. I will leave you in peace.”

“Don’t leave on my account,” he replied, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate in her chest.

She cleared her throat, torn between retreat and looking upon his face. It annoyed her that she had missed it, that she had worried he might never come back.

“When did you arrive?” she asked crisply and walked around to the opposite reading chair.

She waited until she had sat down before she raised her gaze to take him in, with that lustrous dark brown hair and those lovely green eyes of his. He looked tired, but no worse for wear. As handsome as ever.

“Nae long ago,” he replied as he lifted his drink to his lips and sipped.

She took a breath. “Are you going to explain to me why you took off like that? I had assumed you were in your rooms, but Mr. Lincoln informed me that you had ridden away and had given no indication as to when you might be back.”

“I went to find the doctor,” he said, though he would not look at her.

In truth, even his tone was different, lacking the warmth and cheer that she had, despite herself, come to appreciate. He looked… heavier, if such a thing were possible, as though he had come back to Huntfield carrying more than he had left with.

“I do not see him,” Octavia said, gesturing.

Malcolm shook his head. “He didn’t return with me.”

“Did you… get whatever it was that you needed?”

He paused, swirling his drink. “I’m nae yet sure.”

You have come back to me, but… you are not yourself.

The Malcolm sitting opposite was not at all the one who had burst back into her life with an embrace and a grin. This Malcolm was quiet and withdrawn. Gloomy. Indeed, he had not offered a single smile since she sat down.

Had it been bad news he had received from the doctor? Why had he gone after the doctor in the first place? After all, Doctor Stanforth had explained that he would be back in a few days. What could have been so urgent that it would send Malcolm in pursuit of him?

“What is wrong?” she asked bluntly. “Forgive me, but you do not seem like yourself.”

Malcolm seemed to hesitate, then he shook his head slowly. “I’m just tired, that’s all. The ride was longer and more arduous than I remember.”

“Why did you not stay in London until morning? You have been told not to overexert yourself,” she scolded lightly, cautiously. “You should have rested instead of riding back at such an hour.”

It chilled her to think of him journeying through the countryside in the darkness, especially with the loss of his memories. The ride would have been difficult enough in the daylight.