Page 58 of His Duchess to Remember

He stayed…

There at the end of the bed, leaning against one of the four posts, his eyes closed, was Malcolm. Perfectly, serenely asleep, even in such an uncomfortable-looking position.

He was a soldier. I suppose he has slept in far worse situations.

Just then, a raspy cough snapped her attention to her son.

“Simon?” she said softly. “My darling, are you awake?”

The boy’s eyes fluttered open, and though he looked up at her, his gaze was glassy with fever. “Mama…” he managed to croak, before his eyes shuttered closed again.

Suddenly cursing that she had fallen asleep, she reached for the medicine and poured out a spoonful. Bringing it to Simon’s lips and gently cradling his head, she tipped the liquid into his mouth and set the spoon down so she could lightly rub his throat.

He swallowed the mixture, and she breathed a tiny sigh of relief. How could I have allowed myself to doze off when he needed me?

“I gave him a dose two hours ago,” came Malcolm’s gruff voice, the sound making her jump. One of his eyes cracked open. “In case ye were worried.”

“Thank you,” she said, recovering.

How had he managed to give Simon the medicine without waking her? She did not know, but he must have been very stealthy. Another gift from his time as a soldier, perhaps.

“Nay need to thank me,” he replied. “I was just doing as the doctor said.”

She frowned at him, for his tone was not quite what she had come to expect. Then again, he had just woken up after spending a couple of hours asleep against a post. Who would be cheerful after that?

He got to his feet. “I’m going to fetch us some tea.”

She wanted to call him back, to thank him a second time for remaining calm last night and being the one to help Simon and fetch the doctor, but he was already gone.

It was a long night, she told herself. After a long ride and a long day, too.

Satisfied, Octavia reached out and gently stroked her son’s warm brow. He was not as hot as he had been when he called out in pain, but enough heat lingered to keep her worried.

“You get better, do you hear me?” she said tightly. “Your father has promised me that I will not lose you, so please do not make a liar out of him.”

Simon mumbled incoherently in his feverish sleep, and she chose to believe that it was him promising that he would, in fact, be all right.

By early afternoon, there was a welcome arrival at Huntfield. Doctor Stanforth had returned. Octavia spotted him from the window of the nursery and hurried down the stairs to greet him at the door… only to find that Malcolm had got there ahead of her.

She paused on the landing and frowned at the scene before her. Her husband and the doctor were deep in hushed conversation, too quiet for her to overhear. Malcolm seemed angry; angrier than she had seen him since their unexpected reunion. His posture was rigid, his finger pointed in warning.

Just then, the doctor caught Octavia’s eye. He said something to Malcolm, and Malcolm lowered his hand, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“I was just telling the doctor about Simon’s condition,” Malcolm said, turning. “He’ll tend to him now.”

Doctor Stanforth bowed his head. “I will. Apologies for not returning sooner. If I’d known, I surely would have done.”

They parted ways with an odd look that Octavia could not decipher. And when the doctor passed her on the stairs, he kept his gaze low, as if he did not want to look her in the eyes.

“You must not be cross with him,” Octavia said, once the doctor had gone. “It is not his fault that he was not here when Simon took ill. How could he have known?”

Malcolm smiled tightly, as if he had forgotten how. “I’m nae cross with him, lass.”

“You seemed cross.”

He shook his head. “I was merely trying to get across how urgent the matter is. I don’t doubt that the village doctor is capable, but he doesn’t compare to Stanforth.”

Octavia narrowed her eyes, a weird feeling creeping down the back of her neck; a sense that something was not quite right here.