Page 74 of His Duchess to Remember

He had lain awake, thinking of their kiss, going over the moment where he had made a mistake. It had not occurred to him at the time that he was giving dates that he could not possibly remember, and he cursed himself for being so foolish. Yet, he cursed himself just as much for wishing that he had been able to continue the ruse a while longer, until he could tell her the truth deliberately.

With gritty eyes that no amount of rubbing could soothe, he dressed and headed downstairs to breakfast. There, he had no doubt that Octavia would give her orders for him to depart.

If this is to be my last day at Huntfield, I ought to make the most of it.

To his delighted surprise, Simon was already in the breakfast room with his nursemaid.

“Papa!” the boy cheered as Malcolm entered.

At least there is one person here who is happy to see me.

“Good morning, laddie,” he said with a smile. “What are ye having to make yerself big and strong today, eh?”

Simon pointed to his plate. “Eggs.”

“A fine choice.” Malcolm made his way to the chair beside his son. “And after ye’ve finished that, what would ye say to a riding lesson?”

The boy nodded eagerly. “I want to ride.”

“Very good, then that’s what we’ll do,” Malcolm said. “And we should discuss getting ye that pony of yer own. Bessie is a wonderful mare, but ye can’t be riding around on a horse that’s so much bigger than ye. It’s a long way to fall if ye lose yer balance.”

Simon chuckled. “I won’t fall, Papa.”

“But ye might, and I’d rather ye had a safer mount.”

Malcolm did not know if he would have time to arrange the pony before he was asked to leave, but at least he would be able to navigate the purchase at a distance. Then, even if he was not at Huntfield, the memory of him would remain in his son’s mind.

“I would like a… grey pony,” Simon said, as he scooped up a forkful of eggs and chewed contentedly.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Malcolm promised, as he served himself some toast and poured a cup of weak coffee.

Breakfast passed without incident, father and son discussing everything and nothing: the caterpillars turning into butterflies, the texture and flavor of the eggs, whether birds had dreams, what each other’s favorite colors and animals were, and how long it would take to hop around the estate on one leg, among other curious subjects.

Yet, Malcolm was somewhat distracted, his gaze flitting to the breakfast room door every few minutes, his ears pricked for the sound of his wife approaching.

But she did not, her chair remaining empty.

“Do ye ken if my wife has risen yet?” he finally asked Millicent.

The nursemaid nodded. “I believe so, Your Grace. She said she had a headache and that I was to look after the young master all day.” She hesitated. “Would you like me to send for Doctor Stanforth?”

The doctor had gone to London a week prior, to begin his further research into the rare affliction of amnesia. Apparently, he had associates there who had also experienced those uncommon patients, and he was eager to make his work a thorough investigation.

“Send for me whenever you’re ready to return to Scotland,” the doctor had said before he departed. “I have been made aware of one particular physician in Edinburgh who is well-versed in your previous condition.”

At the time, Malcolm had still been in two minds as to whether he would ever return to Scotland on a permanent basis, but now he feared that he would need to send word to Stanforth sooner than anticipated.

“No,” Malcolm told the nursemaid. “If it’s just a headache, there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

Especially when there was likely no headache at all.

“If ye’re done with yer eggs,” he said to his son, forcing some cheer into his voice, “shall we go and make sure that Bessie has had her breakfast? We can take a few carrots with us, so none of the horses feel left out. I ken that Rogue will want one.”

Simon grinned. “We feed the horses now.”

Rising from his chair, Malcolm put out his hand and felt his heart lighten just a little as the boy grabbed hold.

Together, they made their way through the manor and out into the somewhat chilly morning. A thick fog coiled across the lawns and the distant meadows, slithering in and out of the trees of the surrounding forest, the nip in the air making it feel more like early autumn than the middle of summer.