By Camille Oster
 
The Henningtons, Book Two
 
 
 
 Copyright ©2020 Camille Oster
All rights reserved. 
 
This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents
are the work of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments,
locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
 
 
 
 
Camille Oster – Author
Instagram: camilleoster_author
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Camille-
Oster/489718877729579
Email: Camille.osternz@gmail.com
 Chapter 1
 
Denham Hall, 1849
“I’LL NEED MY NEW GOWN TOO,” Octavia said to the two maids
packing her trunk. “And the cloak. It may get cold. Have either of you seen
Father this morning?”
“I believe he’s in the morning room,” Mary said.
Octavia strode quickly out of her room and down the stairs. The
warmth of late summer had just left and the house was starting to cool. The
whole of the house was pleasant in summer, but as the halcyon days faded,
the number of usable rooms dwindled along with the summer warmth.
Julius and her father didn’t seem to mind, even as they were both crammed
into the same parlor in the depths of winter. A trait she never understood in
her brother and father—their insistence on staying in the country through
the most bitter winter. London was infinitely more comfortable, and more
amusing.
“Really, Julius, why don’t you come? You can see that horrid
fiancée of yours.”
“Cressida is perfectly happy corresponding by letter,” he said and
re-shook his newspaper as if it threatened to crumple on him.
“Caius would be happy to see you.”
“After staying in London for the whole summer, he’d be infinitely
better off coming here. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
“You know perfectly well,” Octavia said dismissively and continued
to the morning room, where her father still sat in his morning coat. “Well,
I’ll be leaving soon.”
 “So you said. Months ahead of the season. Are you perhaps so keen
on finding a husband, you’re willing to leave early?”
“I told you I’m worried about Caius. Someone needs to keep an eye
on him.”
“I suspect Eliza is doing a perfectly good job.”
It couldn’t be that good, because they still weren’t living together. It
had all appeared to go in the right direction with their reconciliation, but
they never seemed to reach that perfect union. She still had that awful house
in Lambeth, and her business occupied her mind. It wasn’t something Eliza
was prepared to give up just yet.
When queried, though, they both insisted they were perfectly happy.
Then why weren’t they living together? It wasn’t right, and Octavia had sat
here all summer worrying about it. Their reconciliation seemed to have lost
traction and they’d just paused where they were—neither going forward nor
back. Something had to be at the root of it.
“After such a long summer, it will be nice to see some people again.
You should try it. It would improve your disposition, I’m sure.”
“Nothing would achieve that. Besides, I’m needed here.” It was
what he always said, even as he got under their estate manager’s feet more
than he helped. Why were the Hennington men so impossible, each one of
them? Pig-headed, uncouth and grumpy.
She sighed. “Someone has to see things are going the way they need
to. Every once in a while, people need help, a little nudge here and there.
Good outcomes aren’t guaranteed.”
“Well, you go and save the world, darling. I’ll be right here when
you get back.”
 With an exasperated huff, she left him. “And what shall I say if I
meet Lady Buckley?” Interest had flowed between her father and Lady
Buckley for several years, but for some reason, the man refused to act on it.
“Why don’t you ask how her barley fared this year?”
Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes. “You would be much happier
with a wife.”
“Wives are more trouble than they’re worth.”
Julius seemed to have been of the same disposition, until he’d
started courting Cressida Forthill. Odious girl. Snobbery was at the crux of
her personality, but Julius also invested a great deal into his snobbery, so it
was probably what attracted him, and her substantial fortune. Not that theirs
was anything to scoff at. At the heart of it, Octavia believed Julius
cherished Cressida because he was wealthy enough to be acceptable to her.
It bored Octavia even thinking about the match her brother had
chosen for herself. Caius had done much better, until everything had gone
so wrong with those stupid false accusations. But it was all being put right,
even if the pace was distressingly slow. Octavia simply had to go and
ensure all was right. It had worried her endlessly all summer since she’d
learned that Eliza wasn’t actually living in Caius’ house. What possible
reason could there be?
But she would get to the bottom of it, and if there were fears to be
alleviated, or disagreements to be soothed, she would do whatever was
required. There was also the issue of that man who’d pursued Eliza. Lord
Fortescue. He was still around, she’d learnt. Was that the basis of the
problem? Was that man trying to pry himself in where he didn’t belong?
That would be… unacceptable.
“Are you ready to leave?” Mr. Tennyson asked.
 “Yes, I am,” she replied and waited while Tennyson retrieved her
bonnet and umbrella, in case it was needed. It was still too warm for a
jacket, especially in the confines of the carriage, so she should be
comfortable enough. He returned promptly and she took the bonnet in hand
rather than put it on. She’d only take it off in the carriage anyway.
Tennyson assisted her into the waiting carriage, where her trunk had
already been loaded. The windows were down on both sides to encourage
airflow during the journey. “And Tennyson,” she said. “Tell my brother he’s
a bore.”
“Is that the porcine kind, or the socially less diverting kind?”
“The latter, in this case. Make sure Father gets his walks in. He can
be too lazy for his own good.”
“I will, Miss Hennington.”
With a nod, Octavia sat back and the carriage took off. Denham Hall
would be chaos without her. She wasn’t even sure they would manage a
proper meal. Cook would serve them whatever she felt like and they
wouldn’t complain. It was the best they could manage.
The familiar roads around the village gave way to the countryside
beyond. The trees still had their full crowns, the merest hint of yellow
starting to color the earliest varieties. Around her, harvested fields looked
bare. A few were still being brought in. It was a nice time of year in the
country, where the crops had been safely brought in without any disaster
descending. Things were prepared for market or stored for winter. Animals
and farmers alike had a rest. It was also the time when London returned to
tolerable. Summers were too hot and too pungent, and not of a good kind.
She should have brought a book, but she hadn’t thought of it.
Normally, there was too much to do to sit down and read. And when she
arrived in London, there were too many people to see, even as many of her
acquaintances hadn’t returned yet. Over the next month or so, they would
all make their way to London, ahead of the season.
The roads were good, but at times, the carriage was slowed because
farmers were moving their harvest around. There was nothing for it but to
wait.
There was an eagerness to get back to the city after such a long
sojourn at Denham Hall. As her brother and father were so rude to guests,
they didn’t have as many callers as they should. Everyone was more
comfortable if Octavia did the calling, but there were only so many times
you could call on the same people before it became dull.
And it was important to ensure things proceeded with Caius and
Eliza. Caius would be miserable if things fell apart again. He’d run away
for seven years last time, and no one wanted a repeat of that. Eliza was
curiously independent, and to some extent, she’d had to be. No one could
have foreseen how successful she’d been at it; Eliza had embraced her
setbacks and made a life that had suited her. It was also true that she loved
Caius and always had. As to her forgiving him for abandoning her—well,
perhaps that was at the core of the problem. Forgiveness wasn’t always easy
when trust had been broken, even if all parties wanted it.
As for herself, she wasn’t one for forgiving once her trust had been
broken. In fact, there had been times when she’d dismissed men for the
merest infraction. This was something she’d admitted about herself. Often
she’d been looking for an excuse why a man wasn’t good enough. Perhaps
that was because in her heart, she’d known he wasn’t the right man. Also
driven by the fact that she hadn’t met any ‘right’ men. They were all silly
on some level, and she’d wanted a man she respected. Still wanted. She
hadn’t given up.
 The problem was that suitable men didn’t grow on trees, and she’d
considered quite a few of them already. She was, however, in the enviable
position of being a good match for anyone. If she paid attention to a man,
he typically paid attention back. There were men of good standing, but
finding someone she personally felt was suitable had proven surprisingly
hard.
Everyone told her she had to lower her standards, had to accept
some man with his glaring flaws that she knew would drive her up the wall
over time. Why couldn’t people be reasonable? Especially men. It wasn’t
difficult, but yet, so many men struggled to say the right thing when they
were supposed to, and to keep their mouths shut when appropriate. How
was it these men managed to fare in the world while being so…
unobservant?
 Chapter 2
 
SWEAT RAN DOWN FINN’S back as he reaped proud barley stalks.
Stroke after stroke, the almost mesmerizing sharp sound of the barley
felling. Behind the line of reapers, women gathered the stalks into bundles
while the midday sun beat down on them. Two good days and they would
be done. He was exhausted—they all were.
A celebration was planned for the end. The harvest fest. Until then,
there was nothing but work. Every pair of hands was needed, even his.
They had to get the harvest in before the weather turned. A bad storm now
and the year’s crop would be ruined. The estate could manage a bad
harvest, but there were many who depended on a good year to keep them
afloat.
Often, Finn didn’t mind physical work, but harvest time taxed his
every strength. Still, it would be a good feeling when it was all brought in
and safely stored. Even better when it was sold and delivered, and the funds
delivered to his bank.
Stopping, he stretched his aching back and listened to the men
around him. No one spoke, they just kept on working. The sooner it was
done, the sooner they could rest. Some of the professionals hired in for the
task were eager to get to their next job, working as many fields as they
could through the harvest season. For himself, he recognized the luxury of
only having to do one harvest.
They continued working for hours more, until it grew dark. Finally,
they lay their scythes down and returned home.
Finn walked. He hadn’t wanted his horse to have to stand around
and wait all day. Besides, it did him good to stretch out some of his
overused muscles. His shoulders had no strength left, and his back was sore.
It would be painful the next morning, as it had been for quite a few, but the
soreness gave when the working started—eventually.
The formal gardens of the house sat lush with the late summer
bloom. It was more formal than was fashionable. This he knew, but he
didn’t care. His grandmother had designed this garden, and they had kept it
diligently as she’d intended since—even as he’d never met the woman.
Family was important, even more so now that he’d run out of them. The
memories were precious, and he tried to honor their work as much as he
could, even this unfashionable garden. It was still beautiful.
“Mr. Fuller?” he called as he entered the house.
“Yes, my lord,” the aged man replied, appearing in the doorway to
the main hall. “Should I have a bath prepared?”
“Yes, good,” Finn said. His whole body was covered with dusk and
bits of stalk, which itched when he cooled down. He could swim in the
stream, but a nice soak in a warm bath was more soothing on his muscles
than a brisk swim. “How are we doing with the preparations for the fest?”
“The butcher has agreed to prepare the spit for roasting.” It was
always a popular option, the center of the party.
“Good.”
“Reverend Thompson, and his gang of madams, are organizing
some of the activities.” Mr. Fuller had over the years had a falling out or
two with the women of the village, and he alternatively called them the
terrors of Lesser Wilkeston. In fact, even Reverend Thompson didn’t argue
with them when they were set on something. As for himself, he’d always
depended on charm when having to deal with them, and it worked well
most of the time.
 Going upstairs, he sat down heavily as the bath was filled. Steam
rose as the boiled water was poured in. “I think I’m getting old,” Finn said
as he rose and undressed, straining aching muscles.
Mr. Thompson harrumphed. “You don’t know what old is yet, my
lord. One day you will, and you will rue the words you just uttered.”
Finn groaned as he stepped into the bath, the warmth shocking his
body then radiating into his muscles. It felt as if he had no strength left.
What he needed was to scrub the barley dust off his skin and hair, but all he
managed was to sit there.
Wouldn’t it be lovely to have a wife to fuss over him at a time like
this? The companionship of a wife was something he’d begun to crave a
short while back. Prior, he’d felt he was too busy to deal with the demands,
a determination brought on by some of his liaisons. His view that women
were demanding and grasping had resulted after one particularly regrettable
relationship, and after, he’d stayed clear of the whole topic. It hadn’t been
helped by the unhappy marriages he’d observed elsewhere.
But age had mellowed him, and made him wiser. There were
successful marriages, and even some of the men who lamented their
burdens weren’t nearly as miserable as they professed. The happiest of
marriages weren’t the ones giving themselves to dramatics, they were quiet
and calm, their happiness hidden in small actions and considerations. It was
just that they were drowned out by the dramatics.
Then one day, Eliza Hennington had walked in and demanded he
treat her like she deserved to be treated. Quietly confident and unbending in
her demand, he’d seen something in her he hadn’t seen in others. She’d
drawn his interest as no one had before. When they’d met, she’d been his
tenant for a warehouse he owned in London, and still was.
 For a while, it seemed she’d been a good match for him, even as her
reputation was being threatened. A disastrous situation she was handling
with strength and dignity. But the husband who’d caused her so much grief
had swept her away in the end. It had been disappointing.
For a while, he’d been angry with her for relenting to the man
who’d caused her so much grief, that she was being loyal to a man who
didn’t deserve it. He wouldn’t have been so forgiving. The man had
threatened her livelihood after initially destroying her life based on false
accusations. How could he respect someone who would do something like
that to a woman as lovely as Eliza?
For all intents and purposes, Eliza had chosen to remain with her
husband. Finn hadn’t entirely deserted her, and not just because she was his
tenant, but in case this husband truly didn’t deserve the chance she was
affording him. A leopard didn’t change his spots, in Finn’s experience, so
he wasn’t convinced of this man’s intentions. Perhaps some other stupid
reason would have the man balk and he’d run for the hills, yet again.
A future with Eliza depended on this man divorcing her. If he
refused to do so, things would be very complicated. It wouldn’t be unheard
of that a man set up family with an abandoned woman, but it would be
deeply unfair to Eliza. A solution would have to be pursued, and by
solution, it would entail this man, Lord Warwick, to agree to divorce her.
It would all be complicated, but Eliza had the gentle strength that
would make the perfect wife, even if her delinquent husband didn’t see it.
And at its core, Finn liked her—enough to endure such tribulations. The
idea of a happy marriage was something worth fighting for when it was
within reach.
 Having recovered slightly, he urged his muscles to move, washed
his arms, and poured bowlfuls of water over his head. It would be nice to
have a wife—someone who commiserated with the hard work of a harvest.
Maybe even gentle fingers kneading the muscles of his shoulders.
The desire was growing stronger, but not to the point where he
would choose a woman he wasn’t sure would be a good match. No marriage
was better than a bad one.
“For the dancing, should we do so in the ballroom or outside in the
garden?” Mr. Fuller asked.
“I think it would be more comfortable in the garden. We can string
lights. The formal ballroom feels too… formal. Then we can have
everything in one space, rather than spread out.”
“Shall we dance around the roasting pig, then?” Mr. Fuller said
tartly. The man had a habit of being acerbic in his old age. It depended on
the weather, Finn knew. His bones hurt and it affected his humor. Except the
weather was tolerable at the moment. Mr. Fuller was simply aging, and it
was another link with his past and his family that he would eventually lose.
Truth was that he probably had to retire Mr. Fuller before the man
suggested he should, perfectly happy to continue until he dropped dead if
given the choice. It would be an injustice if he had no leisure in his older
age, even if he didn’t appreciate it being forced on him. For now, Finn
couldn’t bring himself to being without the closest thing to family he had.
At some point, his desire would become unjust.
 Chapter 3
 
THE TOWNHOUSE HAD AN unloved feeling when Octavia arrived, as if
the rooms had suffered with the lack of occupancy, and the assault of the
summer sun. They weren’t uncared for as such, as the staff kept them in
perfect tidiness.
“Has there been any news of my brother?” she asked Mrs. Monty,
who’d come ahead to revive the townhouse.
“No, I believe he is still at his estate.”
“Well, how long is he going to linger there?” A general question
rather than one expecting an answer. “He must have been away for months,
while Eliza has stayed in town. It’s not the time to be careless.” Only a
foolish person wouldn’t realize that the staff knew exactly what was going
on with the family members, and they had kept as abreast of the Caius and
Eliza saga as anyone else.
Caius had his own townhouse now, having inherited his uncle's
estate and title. Before Julius, which was a sore point for her oldest brother.
Few people might be in town yet, but Eliza was here. Octavia
decided to call on her that evening. It was unfortunate that Caius hadn’t
convinced her to go with him, but she could well imagine him determining
it wouldn’t be an ideal time as he was busy with the harvest. Caius was silly
that way. But so was Eliza, because she was supposed to give the business
over to that business partner of hers, but it hadn't fully eventuated. Eliza
was still very much involved in her company.
Sitting down on the settee, Octavia sighed. It was nice to be back in
London. She loved the hustle and bustle of the city, the parties, the balls, the
afternoon calling. At this point, she hadn’t decided what man she would
take a liking to this year, but it so happened that there was one man she
veered her interest towards. Unfortunately, they had disappointed in the
past, and she was starting to fear that men disappointed as a general rule.
Surely there had to be some that were good. Men got in their own way too
much.
The garden was starting to fade outside the window. No one was
here to admire it throughout summer, which was a shame. It should be
replanted in autumn with spring plants. Her father wasn’t much for
gardening, so it had languished in the state designed by whoever had put it
in. As for herself, she had better things to do than redesign a garden.
“Would you like some tea?” Mrs. Monty asked, having returned
from directing the footmen carrying her trunk.
“Yes, some tea would be nice.” A bit of rest after the journey would
revive her. The clock on the mantle showed it was three in the afternoon.
Maybe instead of waiting until evening, she would go catch Eliza at that
warehouse of hers.
When it came time to leave, she chose to hire a carriage rather than
use her horses that were recovering from their journey. They deserved their
rest, so she had one of the footmen procure a ride for her. It was a short
journey, so the discomfort wasn’t unbearable.
A drab, black cab stood waiting as she emerged from the house, and
she smiled quickly to the driver as she got in. The footman gave
instructions on where to deliver her, and they set off. Although it didn’t
please her to feel this way, she did feel more conscious of her safety as she
crossed the Thames to Lambeth. Even as she understood why Eliza had set
up her business here, she didn’t quite understand why she insisted on
staying.
The streets were a jumble of activity and it took some time to get
through, but they finally reached Eliza’s warehouse and Octavia said
goodbye to the hack. A man met her as she walked in, and no doubt he
wondered if she was lost.
“Is Mrs. Hennington here?” Octavia asked. “Miss Hennington
calling.”
The man looked shocked for a moment, as if he didn’t know what to
do. “She’s in her office, I believe.” Then there was an awkward moment
when both were in each other’s way, and neither could easily resolve it.
“And where would that be?”
“Sorry, upstairs.” He went to point, but changed his mind. “Follow
me.”
Pallets of materials sat in rows. Booklets mostly. There were also
chalkboards and books. The warehouse itself was a bit dusty and Octavia
sneezed. The upstairs had some kind of printing contraption next to a row
of large windows. The office was enclosed in the corner of the space, and
she saw Eliza and another woman inside, leaning over the desk.
Eliza looked up and saw her, and for a moment, Octavia wondered if
that was a frown on her face before it fleeted. Eliza came to the door. “Miss
Hennington. This is a surprise.”
The office was less dusty and Octavia took it in, along with the
dark-haired woman. “So this is where you keep yourself. I hope the
children of the country appreciate your efforts.” On one of the walls, there
were drawings made by children. Whose, she had no idea.
 “We believe so. I’m not sure you’ve met Mrs. Broadman, my
partner.”
The dark-haired woman stepped forward to shake her hand, which
was a bit bold for standard etiquette. But this woman was not ruled to
politeness and etiquette. She was something else entirely, and Octavia was a
little curious. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. Enchanted,” Octavia
said with a nod while she shook her hand. “I’ve just arrived back in London
and thought I’d come see how you are. Caius is still at Bickerley, I believe.”
“Yes, dealing with the harvest.”
Mrs. Broadman gathered up a bundle of papers. “I’ll leave you to
reacquaint,” the woman said and smiled as she left the room. It was curious
how loyal Eliza was to that woman. They seemed to be close friends.
Unlike many, Octavia didn’t have a best friend as such, two closer friends
in Rose and Annabelle, but they weren’t as close as some, and less so as
they’d both married. She had lots of friends and even more acquaintances,
but not one she knew as intimately as one would a best friend.
“I didn’t want to be out and about too late, so I thought I’d come see
you here. I suppose there isn’t a cafe nearby?”
“There’s a pub not far away,” Eliza said with a note of uncertainty.
“Or we could go to my house. It isn’t far.”
“I’m sure we can get some tea here,” Octavia said, looking around.
“It’s been a long journey.”
“You’ve just returned?”
“Today, actually.”
“I’ll organize some tea,” Eliza said and walked out of the room. She
returned within a minute. “Please sit,” she said, indicating over to the
window where two chairs stood. Then she moved and carried over a small
table and placed it between the chairs. It would serve. Octavia sat down.
She could see down onto the street from her position.
“It’s a shame you couldn’t join Caius in Bickerley for the harvest
season,” Octavia said.
“Caius said he’d be busy the entire time, and we have a big order to
get out the door. Schools start very soon, so we have a great many orders to
process.”
“Have you been to Bickerley?”
“Yes, I went a few months back.” Well, that was something, at least.
“It’s a handsome house. I always thought so. I haven’t visited in
years. Our uncle was meticulous in how he kept things, but you know how
the elderly are. Things slip. Denham would be a mess if it wasn’t for me.
Father has no interest at all. I do wish he’d marry, but he shows remarkably
little interest.”
“Julius seems to take after him,” Eliza said. So her and Caius were
not close enough that they discussed Julius’ relationship.
“He’s involved with a woman at the moment. I think he intends to
marry her.”
“Oh, I had no idea.” Was that a sign that they weren’t as close as
they professed? “Is she a good choice for him?”
“Terrible, but you know Julius, you can’t tell him anything. She’s of
the right pedigree, so he’s content.”
A look of concern crossed Eliza’s features. It really was as if every
emotion was written on her face. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Julius will get the marriage he deserves,” Octavia said
dismissively. As he utterly refused to listen, Octavia had stopped being
concerned about his choices. They were his choices to make, and if he
wished to spend his life with someone like Cressida, then that was his
choice. Maybe they got on perfectly together. “One doesn’t always
understand the things that make others happy.”
Astounding as it was, people weren’t the same. Not everyone saw
things the way she saw them, despite the perfect logic. But neither of her
brothers were logical and reasonable when it came to their women. That
much she’d learnt in her time. Eliza was a good choice for Caius. He’d
chosen well, but he’d been too emotionally invested to see the forest for the
trees when the storm had come, and he’d suffered dearly for it. So had
Eliza. Except she had turned her misfortune into a thriving business.
“I take it you enjoy this,” she said. “The cut and thrust of business.”
“I do,” Eliza said. “It’s like a child. Something you create and
nurture, then watch grow.”
More importantly, would there be real children to nurture? Were
they… trying? Surely they had reconciled to that point. It wasn’t something
one could ask.
“Well, I do hope you allow yourself some time for leisure,” Octavia
said. “You are the only sister I have, and I hope you’ll spend some time
with me. And even if Julius marries this woman, you will still be the only
sister I have.”
Eliza chuckled. “I’m pleased you see me that way.”
“Of course. So please come to supper one evening.”
“As none of the men are here to see to us, we will have to do so for
ourselves.”
One of the mistakes Caius was surely making was squirreling her
away in his townhouse, while what she really needed was to be drawn into
society again. No doubt it was one of Eliza’s fears, and how could she
embrace being Lady Warwick if that continued? No, she had to be
reintroduced, so she would learn that there was nothing there to fear. And
there would be nothing to fear—Octavia would see to it, and God help
anyone who tried to reject her.
“We should definitely plan an evening,” Octavia said with a smile.
 Chapter 4
 
A LULL OF ACTIVITY FOLLOWED the harvest and Finn felt a little lost.
The barley was in and sent for dehusking, a process best left to the
professionals. Finn sat in the salon and watched the gardeners slowly going
about the business of clearing away the fading summer blooms and
preparing for autumn. The orchard harvest would come later in the year, but
for right now, the work was largely done.
A few years ago, he would now be rushing off to the nearest friend
for entertainment and mischief. But life was changing—his friends were
changing. And really, the joy he’d found in a drunken night with friends had
passed them all. Neither did he want to just sit there and mope either. He
wasn’t in his dotage just yet.
Perhaps he should see to his business ventures. They always thrived
with more attention rather than less. His thoughts turned to Eliza
Hennington and her business. He respected her for what she’d built. Quite a
remarkable woman. And he wondered what she was doing. Each month,
she paid the rent diligently, never failing on a payment. The kind of tenant
every building owner wished for.
Contrary to what most men thought, women actually had a good
head for business. Perhaps not all of them, but the few he’d met tended to
know their business very well. Probably because they had to. There had to
be a hardness to them. Most likely, they were doubted by others, and
bamboozled by some trying to take advantage of them. Women were more
wily than many presumed, and Finn enjoyed this trait considerably.
No, maybe it was time to spend some months in London. There was,
after all, no company of wily women to have here at Wilkeston House. It
might not be drunken nights he was after, but he sought a new place in
society, one he didn’t entirely understand. Meeting Eliza had ignited
something, but there was an excitement in him about it. What it meant, and
where it would lead, he wasn’t entirely sure. Perhaps even marriage.
Had he reached that point? Was this what the urge in him was? All
the things he’d rejected, the things people had so desperately tried to push
on him. It would be his own desire that would undo him in the end. Who
would have thought? No, maybe no, but he did seek more mature company.
That was what it was.
“Mr. Fuller?” he called, knowing the man wouldn’t be far away.
Sure enough, he appeared. “I am thinking I might take a trip to town.”
“A trip, my lord?”
“I dare to say it, but I might attend the season this year.”
“My lord,” Fuller said in surprised acknowledgment.
“But I am concerned about the house. Actually, I have some
concerns about the roof. I think there are some patches that may leak. My
concerns aren’t grave enough to suggest action needs to be taken just yet,
but I think we need to monitor the situation quite closely as the autumn
deepens.”
“I wasn’t aware there were issues with the roof. Should I call
someone to come assess it?”
“I think we’ll wait to do our own assessment this autumn and winter.
If we keep an eye on the attic, we should see any ingress of water. It would
be helpful to do a proper survey of where any moisture comes in, so we
know exactly where repairs need to be made.”
Obviously, this could be done by a professional, and there weren’t
any significant issues with the roof that he knew of. “This is obviously very
important,” Finn continued. “So I’m torn by taking you with me to
London,” for which the trials and tribulations would be strenuous for a man
of Mr. Fuller’s age, “and keeping you here to perform this crucial work. If
we don’t do this well, the financial hit for the estate could be devastating.”
“You can of course depend on me,” Mr. Fuller said with his typical
solemnity.
“I know I can. You are, of course, invaluable to the estate. So
perhaps it’s best that I forgo the comfort of your attendance this upcoming
season. It is a sacrifice, but it must be borne.”
If Mr. Fuller knew what he was doing, he didn’t give any indication.
Having the man stay here would be a much calmer time for him, even with
regular tours of the attic. Well, it was the best he could think of for a
plausible task crucial enough to keep the man here. Taking him to London,
with the constant activity of the season, would exhaust him, maybe even
dispatch him. It felt too cruel to force him into retirement. Since he’d been a
young lad, Mr. Fuller had been in service to this estate. He knew nothing
else. The trick was to reduce his duties without injuring his sense of honor.
“But if you would prepare my trunk, I would be much obliged.”
“Of course, my lord.”
Maybe Finn had been a little spoilt, because Mr. Fuller knew
everything that needed doing. His skill and willingness weren’t in doubt,
but his body was increasingly failing him. Maybe Finn should have thought
of a task that hadn’t involved so many stairs, but he wasn’t sure Mr. Fuller
would believe it if it was too easy.
*
Rain set in as Finn traveled to London. It made for a slow and
difficult journey, but it couldn’t be helped. Travel was never a pleasant
endeavor, but the closer they got, the better the roads were.
The townhouse hadn’t been opened, as his decision to come to town
had been a quick one. Sheets covered the furniture and Mr. Walters, one of
the footmen, was the one tasked with opening the house that smelled of
stale air and dust. The windows were all opened, even as it was late. Finn
didn’t mind the cool air sweeping through the house. Clean air was worth
this short inconvenience. If it bothered him, he should have had the
foresight to send someone ahead to open the house.
In fact, Finn took himself off to his club. Technically, it was his
father’s club, but membership was inherited. In his youth, he’d had to meet
his father here on a number of occasions, but for quite a while after his
father’s death, he’d had no interest in this club, seeing it as his father’s
purview.
But they did a good meal, and they had a well-stocked bar, traits he
was starting to appreciate. The porter guarding the door was a little
surprised to see him, but the man still knew who he was. They had good
memories of their members and their offspring.
“I seek a good meal,” Finn said.
“Then I dare say you have come to the right place. It’s a pleasure to
see you again, Lord Fortescue. We have missed your father’s presence.”
“Thank you. I look forward to the evening.”
Finn walked inside. The club room hadn’t changed at all. The same
wood-paneled walls and roaring fires. There was comfort in the
consistency. Finn made his way to the bar and ordered a drink. The room
was busy, but not uncomfortably so. A few familiar faces, some looking
older than the last time he’d seen them.
“Finley?” a man asked. “Lord Fortescue now, I believe.”
 “It is.” Finn considered the man of his father’s generation.
Unfortunately, he didn’t recall the man’s name, but he had a vague
recollection of him. “My father passed, sadly.”
“Yes, he was a loss. A regular member of the club. It’s a pleasure
you’ve joined us tonight. Are you staying for supper?”
“I thought I would. I’m sorry, I don’t recall your name.”
“Sir Michael Trudy.”
“Yes, of course. I do recall you from my few visits here.”
Not everyone in the club was elderly. When he’d visited here as a
youth, everyone had seemed old. Now there seemed to be a mix, which
probably happened quite naturally as one generation replaced the previous.
“That’s lovely. I take it you’ve just returned to town,” the man said.
Another joined them. “Lord Forthill, you’ve made it this evening.”
“Yes, yes,” the man blustered. A thick gray mustache covered his
lips and gave him a soft look with the roundness of his face. “An evening
away from the house does the constitution good.” The man looked at him as
if he tried to place him. “Lord Fortescue,” Sir Trudy filled in.
“Ah, of course. I was sorry to hear of your father’s passing. Good
man. A year or so back, wasn’t it?”
“Two years.”
“And how had you been spending your time prior to taking over?
Are you an academic?” The question was really if he was one of the louts
that sat around and drank themselves silly while waiting for their titles to
come their ways. And for a while he had been, but it had grown tiresome.
“Investments. Ports, mainly in Africa.”
“You’ve spent time in Africa?”
 “Not considerably. More clever people than me wanted my money
more than me.”
“Good thing. Too perilous by far. Fortune seekers the lot of them.”
Finn wasn’t quite so dismissive. The people who built infrastructure
in foreign lands were ambitious and clever, and they had to take risks to
achieve what they wanted. It allowed the ambitions to make their fortunes
by capitalizing on opportunities that weren’t afforded to them back in
England. They had the ambition, Finn had the money. Managing his
investments had been considerably time-consuming, and he’d had to cut
down on the projects he entangled himself with as he’d taken over the
management of the estate. At times, he wasn’t convinced it was a good
trade.
“You are unmarried, I take it?” Lord Forthill said. “I regret to tell
you that my wife will be elated that another bachelor is in town. You will,
no doubt, receive invitations to this and that. We have two daughters of
marriageable age, and if you would see yourself to taking one of them off
my hands, I’d be much obliged.”
“I’m not in the market for a wife at this point,” Finn said. And that
was true. Although the concept was growing on him, he wasn’t strictly here
to find a wife during the season.
“Yes, understandable. Hold out for as long as you can,” the man said
with a chuckle. “Life is so much simpler without a wife.”
No doubt, Finn thought. 
 
 
 Chapter 5
 

“FOR A MOMENT, I DIDN’T think you would arrive in time. You’re

cutting it very fine,” Octavia said, standing with her arms crossed on the top
stair outside the townhouse, watching as Julius stepped down from the
carriage. “You have a bare two hours until the party.”
“That is a whole two hours before I need to be here,” Julius replied
tartly. “How could one possibly argue that I’m late?”
With a huff, Octavia walked inside. The day had been quite cold
while she’d been out calling. She even wondered if there would be frost
during the night.
“Mrs. Monty, could you be an utter lifesaver and scramble up some
tea and biscuits? I’m famished.” He smiled in the way that always pierced
any objections she might assert. Julius always charmed the women servants,
and they fell over themselves to go above and beyond to fuss over him.
Really, he loved women fussing over him. Octavia rolled her eyes.
“What is Cressida expecting from you tonight? Has she sent
instructions?”
“No, of course not. Why would she?”
“As her fiancé, I’m sure she has expectations of you.”
“She’ll tell me in due course. Ah, lovely,” Julius said with a bright
smile as Mrs. Monty returned with a tray. “You make a wonderful cup of
tea.” He accepted a cup when Mrs. Monty poured one for him. Octavia
wanted to wave the woman off for pandering to him.
“Have you heard from Caius?”
 “No. I’m assuming he’s in town.”
“Yes, he arrived a week or so back. They’re being awfully cagey
about what they’re doing.”
“I’m sure they’re doing husband and wife things.”
“Then why won’t they just say so?”
“Perhaps because it is none of our affair.”
“It is all of our affair. They’re just so... frustrating. You know very
well things can go wrong again. One misunderstanding and it falls apart.”
“It’s their business to deal with. Leave them to it.”
“Do you know if they’re... you know?”
“Redecorating?”
“Don’t be facetious, Julius. You know very well what I mean.”
“And that is absolutely none of our affair.”
“We can’t have this not work,” Octavia said sharply. “If this fails,
for whatever reason, Caius will leave, and I don’t think he’ll come back.
This reconciliation has to work. There is no other option, and they are both
emotionally raw.”
“They’re fine.”
“How do you know that?”
“Well, is she crying?”
“I swear your marriage is going to fare very badly if that is your
threshold for fine.”
“Curiously, you are the only one who doesn’t have an actual or
potential marriage to stick your nose into.”
 Octavia narrowed her eyes. Julius honestly didn’t care a whit about
her marrying or not—he was only using this to change the subject. “Don’t
you worry, I’m well placed to determine someone suitable for me. And it’s
something I can lend myself to when I know you two idiots aren’t shooting
yourselves in the foot.”
“Myself and Cressida are perfectly matched,” Julius stated.
“I dare say you are.” It wasn’t a compliment. Octavia would have
chosen someone much different for her brother, but he was intent on
someone like Cressida, or rather someone of her caliber. In light of that,
Cressida wasn’t the worst option. It was probably her snobbery that
appealed to Julius. It left a bad taste in Octavia’s mouth imagining it was
what attracted Julius. But he had funny notions, ones she didn’t always
understand. At times, she even wondered if Julius felt marrying someone
like Cressida was a sacrifice he was making for the benefit of the family
name. It wasn’t necessary, but he carried the burden of the family name
more heavily than he needed to. From that perspective, she was an excellent
choice.
It was difficult to consider that Cressida would effectively be her
sister. It wasn’t something Octavia was enthusiastic about. Being
unmarried, she was under her father’s care, which meant they would live
together, and as a result, spend a great deal of time together in the same
house. Luckily, it was a large house. Even so, Octavia would be expected to
keep her company.
If it was intolerance, she could ask Caius to offer her a room at
Bickerley Hall. But it would be unnecessary. This year was the year she
would meet her husband, she was sure of it. And right now, she wondered if
James Fervoy might be the one. His dark complexion was growing on her.
She’d seen him as too immature before, but he was maturing. It was an
interesting prospect, and she was a little curious how he would act this
season. If he had indeed put some of his more youthful tendencies to side,
he could be a very interesting prospect indeed.
“You should probably go tidy yourself before we must leave for the
party.” It was true for herself as well. Tonight, she would be debuting her
new deep cerulean-colored dress. The material had been presented to her in
the spring and it had taken her some time to find the right design for it.
When the dress was finished, it had been wonderful, the silk showing both
green and blue hues. It was her favorite dress at the moment, and she’d
saved it for the first proper evening in town.
Julius checked his pocket watch, then replaced it into the small
pocket on his waistcoat. “Right,” he said, absently finishing the last of his
tea. “I hope it’s not one of those evenings when we have to wait until
midnight to eat supper.”
“I suspect Lord Forthill’s constitution will lend itself to a much
earlier supper.”
“Thank goodness for that. Without supper, I’ll be right pickled
before hors d'oeuvres are served.”
That could well be disastrous, Octavia thought.
*
The Forthill residence was well lit when they slowly arrived in the
line of carriages. It was quite a sizeable party, it seemed. Lord Forthill cared
about his perception, so it would be a well-planned party with fine wines
and sumptuous food. The fineness of the house also showed that the
Forthills wished to convey their place in society. No detail was overlooked.
The Hennington family had cared too at some point. As it was now,
their father was too cantankerous to wish to impress anyone. But with
Cressida at his side, Julius would be obliged to make more effort with
societal obligations.
The family was receiving the guests and Lord Forthill was pleased
to see them. He approved of the match for his daughter too, so they were in
accord. “Julius, so lovely you could make it,” Mr. Forthill said and greeted
him like a long-lost friend. Perhaps they were friends now.
“Miss Forthill, you look marvelous,” Octavia said.
“Such a beautiful gown,” Cressida said with a bright smile. “You do
have a good eye for design. You will have to help me with my wardrobe.”
Confidante, consultant and slave was no doubt how Cressida would
see her once she and Julius were married. “Of course.”
“Your brother is coming now, I think,” Cressida said and they
looked back to see Caius and Eliza arriving. If it wasn’t for Julius’
engagement to the daughter of this family, it was unlikely either of them
would have agreed to come. Social excursions didn’t appeal to either of
them, so it was nice that they had both come, smiling as they approached.
“Perfect timing,” Caius said. “The entire Hennington clan
descends.”
“And you are all most welcome,” Lord Forthill said. “I hope you
will enjoy the evening. No doubt it will be the first of many. Why don’t you
join them for a while, Cressida?”
“Of course,” she said with a smile and took Julius’ arm. They did
make a handsome couple. Their children would be handsome too. As would
Caius’. Hopefully there would be an announcement in that regard soon. It
would tie Caius to England. He wouldn’t abandon a child. It wasn’t in his
nature. It would solidify the marriage too. Neither of them could justify
living apart if there was a child to care for.
 If they would only hurry up and make that happen.
It was a little frustrating that Julius refused to see that the
relationship was still precarious. It felt as if it was so close to being safe,
just this last push to take them out of peril. Nothing could interfere.
“Oh, Lord Fortescue,” Eliza said, her attention being drawn to a
man just entering the house. “I didn’t realize you would be here tonight.”
“Mrs. Hennington, what a pleasure,” the man said. This was him,
Lord Fortescue, the one who’d been calling on Eliza. Octavia couldn’t bring
herself to smile. His interest in Eliza hadn’t even been hidden, and now he
was here. How in the world had that happened? “Apologies, I mean Lady
Warwick, of course.” His attention turned to Caius and he bowed sharply.
“A pleasure to see you both here.”
By the look of him, he didn’t think it was a pleasure at all to see
Caius here. His affection was very much for Eliza, that much was clear.
Lord Forthill received him like he would an old friend. They knew each
other? It must be.
The man hadn’t stopped to be introduced to her or Julius, and he
now chatted with Lord Forthill. Rude to boot. Octavia hated him. There was
something much too...artful about him.
Heat rose up her body. She was upset by this development. Why in
the world did this man have to be here? This was most unfortunate. Eliza
was obviously too innocent and amiable to tell him to go jump in the river,
so he still hung around, dropping his little pleasantries whenever he saw
her. He didn’t still call on her, did he?
Eliza looked too distracted for Octavia to ask her. This was not
good. Octavia’s mood had just been utterly ruined by this man, this fox in
the hen house, intent on wreaking havoc and making off with the most
plumb hen. Over her dead body.
 Chapter 6
 
THE PARTY WAS MUCH larger than Finn had expected. It was an
explosion of colored silks and finery. A few faces he recognized. In the
past, he would have stayed clear of any social engagement that included
matrons of any kind. Lord Forthill had been kind in inviting him, and news
had even reached him that Lord Warwick’s brother was betrothed to one of
Lord Forthill’s daughters.
Although this wasn’t a ball, there was a space for dancing, but the
music was more ambient in nature, barely heard over the din of chatter. A
games room was over to the right and some of the gentlemen were taking
their permanent seats for the evening. Perhaps he would make his way in
there at some point, but gambling had never appealed to him. It was a
loser’s game as far as he saw. Whatever excitement drew men, he didn’t
feel it, only the stupid loss of money.
Accepting a drink, he wondered what to do with himself. On the
other side of the vast room stood Eliza with her husband, while the husband
chatted with a man. They did seem in accord, but looks could be deceiving.
If she truly was happy with him, Finn wouldn’t interfere. In his experience,
though, someone who acted callously had the propensity to do it again.
People who sought dramatics continued to do so. Eliza was definitely not
that kind of person. She was calm and self-contained. And beautiful.
At some point, he would ask her to dance and they could speak. It
was perfectly reasonable that they chat. Well, her being a tenant for his
warehouse wasn’t at all normal, but such was their situation. And maybe he
wanted to see if that husband of hers would be overcome with jealousy and
anger if a man so much as asked his wife to dance. That would indicate a
very unstable relationship.
It wasn’t as if he believed Eliza needed to be rescued, because she
knew how to stand up for herself, he had learnt firsthand. But women could
be reticent to act with men they loved, even the ones who didn’t deserve
their affection. Saying that, she was sensible and she’d survived quite well
without her husband. It was true that the man was in the position to ruin her
company entirely. Finn had assured her that he would stand by her as a
landlord if that happened, and he hoped she understood the offer was still
open.
For a while, Finn distracted himself by chatting to a man he’d
known in his youth, someone who was now married and had some years
ago graduated to these kinds of parties. Now the proud father of three small
sons. For all that his thoughts had strayed to a more settled life, hearing
others talk about theirs was exceedingly dull.
Time passed and it seemed they were readying themselves for
supper. Alcohol made the conversation more relaxed as people enjoyed
themselves.
Finn introduced himself and made his way around the room. More
than a few matrons were taking his measure, subtly enquiring how estates
had fared this year, and encouraging him to talk about it. Their lack of
finesse bored him.
Eventually, he made his way to where Eliza and her husband were.
“Hello, again,” he said with a nod of his head. “I hope you’ve found the
evening pleasant.”
“As pleasant as they come, I’m sure,” the husband said.
 “And will you be dancing tonight?” His gaze was on both of them,
but shifted to Eliza. “It would be my pleasure to take your lovely wife for a
spin around the dancefloor once the dancing starts.”
“I’m looking for a partner,” a woman said with a bright smile and
holding her hand out for him to kiss. “Miss Octavia Hennington. Lord
Warwick’s sister.” A beauty with sparkling blue eyes and brown hair. “It
would be my pleasure to dance with you.”
The invitation was unusual and forward, and put him in an odd
position where he would be extremely rude to refuse. “It would be an
honor.” In fact, he didn’t know how he felt about this surprising
development. Instead of dancing with Eliza, he was now dancing with this
forward woman. Her beauty suggested she wouldn’t have trouble finding a
partner, but perhaps she was the kind of woman who liked to get to know
all the eligible bachelors in the room.
A bell chimed. “Supper is served,” the woman said. There was a
slight resemblance between her and Lord Warwick. Finn vaguely recalled
seeing the other brother with Lord Forthill’s daughter, but they hadn’t been
introduced. “I suppose we had better find our seats,” she said expectantly,
waiting until he offered his elbow to her.
“Please, let me escort you,” he said, slightly acerbically. This was
being forced on him, after all.
“So kind.” There was a distinct sharpness in her voice too. Finn got
the feeling she disapproved of him. Almost as if she was privy to his
thoughts. It could be that she was aware that his acquaintance with Eliza
had gone beyond mere tenant and landlord, to friendship, with the
suggestion that it could go beyond that.
 This was the rear guard, he realized. He was being kept away from
Eliza. A ludicrous notion. If the relationship was so fragile, it had no
chance. For a moment, he wanted to say something to that effect, but why
bother? Instead, he escorted her diligently until she found her place along
the extended table. It might be the longest table he’d ever seen, and still
they were squeezed in with not much elbow room.
It turned out Octavia had been placed at the very center of the table,
which was distant from both Lord and Lady Forthill. An interesting
position, which suggested she wasn’t particularly embraced by either the
host or the hostess. It was the deadman’s land for spinsters and unpopular
guests. Now that was interesting.
“It’s a bit of a squeeze, isn’t it?” she said, sounding less than
impressed.
There was a bit of a cut intended with her placement along the table.
Someone was unimpressed with her. Perhaps a little petty for Lord Forthill,
but then someone had to be placed in these seats. More likely it was Lady
Forthill, or Miss Forthill, her soon to be sister in law.
Finn struggled for something nice to say about it, but it even
appeared less well-lit than the rest of the table. The woman taking the seat
opposite was definitely of the spinster category, a thin, nervous woman in
her forties.
For a moment, he felt sorry for her, because this was a maneuver of
some kind. “I look forward to our dance after,” he said.
“Yes, quite,” she said tartly and snapped her fan shut. Perhaps his
sympathy was misplaced, and she’d behaved in a manner to deserve the
dismissive treatment by her future sister-in-law’s family.
 After she’d taken her seat, he found his own, which was close to
Lady Forthill’s end of the table. This was a thought-out placement too,
close to the favored eligible young women. In fact, he was sitting next to
the other Forthill daughter, who smiled when he sat down. She was pleased,
it seemed.
“You missed the introduction, Lydia. This is Lord Fortescue. My
other daughter, Miss Lydia Forthill,” Lady Forthill said, completing the
introduction.
“A pleasure to meet you,” the young woman said. Pretty, with shiny
blond hair, and fine features. Like her sister, Finn suspected she knew her
place and power in the world.
Eliza was placed somewhere closer to the center as well, but not as
concisely as Octavia Hennington. Her husband was on the other side of his
brother, next to Lord Forthill. Definitely a statement of inclusion in the
family. The connection was being advertised.
This is what he hated about society—the games, the perceptions and
the manipulation. Some people thrived on this, and a cut like Octavia had
received was devastating. Octavia didn’t look the least concerned, and she
laughed at something her neighbor said, seemingly having a perfectly
pleasant time.
He gave her credit for her fortitude. She seemed not the least bit
affected by this.
The soup course was served and the conversation quieted down in
some quarters. A few people seemed more focused on their drinks and
continued chatting. As expected, the food was nice, drawing on the finest
ingredients and a skilled chef.
 Conversation wasn’t thrilling. Lady Forthill spouted the virtues and
skills of her daughter. The girl was beaming being the center of attention.
Even so, Finn found it difficult staying engaged in the conversation of how
skilled Lydia was with driving carriages. Not all young ladies were taught
to do it, but her parents felt a girl should be able to step in and carry herself
away if the situation was ever required. It was a good notion, and he
thought better of the Forthills for it.
By the time supper was over, Finn had had his fill of Lydia Forthill’s
accomplishments, but he told Mr. Forthill what a marvelous meal it was
when he approached the man.
“Thank you kindly,” he replied. “I believe you have some
investments in Africa. The Gold Coast, is it?”
“Yes,” Finn replied. “Infrastructure, predominantly.”
“There are some lucrative mining opportunities, I understand. I’ve
been approached by one or two.”
“I tend to contain myself to infrastructure.” The mining investments
could be extremely lucrative, but they were also much riskier. Finn
preferred the safer investments with a modest but steady income. Ports were
always needed, and they served the mining operations, which had wiped out
more than a few investors through various disasters. Ports didn’t sink, they
didn’t succumb to fevers, or collapses, or price fluctuations. Mines appealed
more to the gamblers at heart. Lord Forthill was apparently attracted by the
high returns promised by the prospectors.
 Chapter 7
 
CRESSIDA BEHAVED AS IF completely unaware that she’d placed
Octavia in the most undesirable section of the supper table. She was
sweetness personified, but Octavia knew full well that it was her doing.
Until now, she hadn’t known the girl saw her as such a threat. In most ways,
it didn’t make sense, was even counterintuitive, but some couldn’t help but
be competitive with other women, for any reason.
This didn’t spell well for coexisting after Julian married her. Maybe
the girl had heard that she’d been trying to convince Julius to make another
choice. If so, her behavior was understandable. It would also mean that
Julius had blabbed about her, and that could not be forgiven. She would
have to give Julius a piece of her mind, which he rarely enjoyed. Things
told to him in confidence needed to stay that way.
It was tricky with wives. Caius and Eliza were very secretive about
themselves and their activities. Neither of them could be drawn into
conversation about how the relationship was going. Everything was fine,
apparently.
During supper, Octavia had observed how Lady Forthill had fawned
over Lord Fortescue. At one point, Octavia had encouraged the match, but
if he ended up with Lydia Forthill, it would mean he would be around at
family events, being part of Julius’ in-laws. That couldn’t be a good thing,
so Lord Fortescue taking an interest in Lydia should be discouraged. How
could one man be so troublesome?
The dancing started and Octavia searched the room for both Lord
Fortescue and James Fervoy, who hadn’t asked her to dance yet. In all
honesty, getting a man to pay attention to her wasn’t difficult. Usually it
required little more than a smile, and her power of attraction was true.
James approached. “Miss Hennington. A pleasure to see you. I understand
congratulations are in order for your brother. A fortuitous match.”
“If one could tolerate it.” After the snub at supper, Octavia felt little
loyalty. “How are you? It's been an age since I’ve seen you. I hope your
summer was splendid.”
“Stupendous. How is your father?”
“As cantankerous as ever. Now, you have been very remiss in asking
me to dance,” she said, tapping him lightly on his arm with her fan in
admonishment.
“A grave oversight, I assure you. Miss Hennington, it would be my
immense pleasure if you would join me on the dancefloor this evening.”
“I would be delighted. You would, by far, be the handsomest of my
dancing partners this evening.”
The barest touch of pink colored his cheeks at the compliment. If he
didn’t call on her after this, then he was a clod. But it didn’t do to give men
too much attention. It gave them the wrong ideas. “Then I look forward to
our dance. Farewell until then,” she said with a smile before wandering off.
It would never do for the man to be the one to leave the conversation.
“Miss Hennington,” a man said, drawing her attention. Lord
Fortescue. Just wonderful. “You promised me a dance.”
Truthfully, she’d expected him to forget about the promise. Perhaps
he was a man who followed through with his promises no matter what.
Surely he didn’t want to dance with her? That would also be an unwelcome
outcome. “Of course,” she said with a tight smile.
“Then I will claim it at the earliest opportunity.”
“That is wise, I’m sure.”
 Relenting, she placed her gloved hand in his and he led her onto the
dancefloor, where the gathered pairs were preparing for a quadrille. They
took their places and waited for the music to start.
“You are my sister-in-law’s landlord, I believe.”
“That is correct.”
The steps started and he took her hand. He was handsome. No
wonder Eliza had been flattered by his attention. On some level, Octavia
could see that they’d make a handsome couple. Then again, what kind of
man accepted a divorcee as his wife? It made her curious. Not that she
personally thought divorce was such a sin that a person could not exist in
society. Many did, but not this man, apparently.
Divorcees typically had very few good options. Eliza would have
been fine with the business she started. And this man who had been
interested in her. And most likely, he still was. It hadn’t gone unobserved
that his gaze had veered in that direction a few times during supper. People
might lie, but their eyes rarely did.
“I believe Eliza expects the business will be handed over to her
business partner more and more.”
He didn’t say anything, instead effortlessly moved through the steps.
Dancing didn’t scare him, but it didn’t enthuse him either. If not for Eliza,
he probably wouldn’t have considered it at all.
“It’s always hard to know the future,” he finally said.
“Oh, I don’t know. When it comes to Caius and Eliza, there have
always been feelings that have run deep between them. It was a love match,
you see.”
“Well, they ran far too,” he replied. “Deep feelings don’t always
mean constancy.”
 “Oh, my brother is very constant,” she shot back.
“People who seek an excuse to leave will always find one.”
The steps moved them apart for a moment, and then back together.
“I don’t think you understand the nature of their relationship.”
A small smile graced his lips. “There is a sympathetic perspective
on every story.”
“Pray tell, what do you mean?”
“A sister is often blind to a brother’s faults.”
Was that enough of an affront to slap him? Because she really
wanted to. How dare he say something like that?
“But as it stands,” he continued and Octavia gritted her teeth. “Your
and my opinion are entirely unimportant on other people’s relationships.
Character and intent speak for themselves, irrespective of what either of us
thinks about it.”
Everything she feared was real. This man was waiting for an
opportunity to pounce. Caius had to be warned, because Fortescue couldn’t
be allowed to interfere with Eliza’s and Caius’ happiness. “There is also
something to be said for not interfering in other people’s marriages. I
believe it's extremely frowned upon.”
“I don’t think we were discussing interference of any kind. Merely
that relationships take the course of reflecting the character of the two
people involved. History is the best predictor for the future.”
If she were a man, she would call this man out, maybe even insist
that her brother’s honor be avenged. “Well, I find that arrogant assumptions
often leave people disappointed, as I can assure you, you will be. Because
when it comes down to it, Caius has something no man can compete with.”
 “And what is that?” This was amusing him, and that made her even
angrier. How dare he be so callous about something so important? In fact,
she wanted to hit him with something larger than her fan.
“Eliza loves him,” she stated matter-of-factly. For while Eliza might
have been flattered by this man’s attention, she loved Caius. “Simply a fact.
You should place your attention elsewhere. Lydia Forthill is a lovely young
woman. You should make sure to dance with her. Lady Forthill would be
very disappointed if you don’t.”
“Except that would send a message I’m not prepared to send. Would
it perhaps not be crueler to get the young woman’s hopes up when I don’t
actually have any intention with regards to the aforementioned young
woman?”
This man had the audacity to toy with her. “Because she is a much
more suitable match and a much better pursuit than entertaining ambitions
for other men’s wives. It is deeply frowned on, you see, and you will be
seen as an untrustworthy man in this society.” Well, two could play this
game.
The expression in his eyes changed. “Let me make this clear, Miss
Hennington. I don’t interfere with other people’s marriages, but if some
walk away from theirs completely of their own accord, I have no qualms
seeing the jewel that their idiocy has left behind.”
The man could certainly be sharp when he wanted to be.
“Something that isn’t going to happen, I assure you. I have the
benefit of knowing both of the parties referred to within this conversation
much better than you do.”
“As I said, their actions will speak for themselves.”
 Oh, how she wanted to say that Eliza was with child right then and
watch that smugness melt from his face. Why wasn’t she with child yet?
Surely Caius wasn’t so slow in moving that it was something they weren’t...
doing.
His hand at her lower back felt burning hot as they swung around
and then broke apart again. How she wished this dance would end now. But
now, they squared off again, hands meeting in front of them.
If it wasn’t for the fact that this man was interested in her sister-in-
law, she would be impressed by a man who actually knew what he wanted.
In this case, however, he was simply not going to get it. It was too bad for
him that he’d set his sights on someone who wasn’t available, and a part of
a family who protected her marriage. If only Octavia could get Julius to
take this threat seriously, but he was off with his insipid fiancée. It was
deeply disappointing. Equally, Caius was utterly ignoring this threat, when
he should be chasing this man out of town.
 Chapter 8
 
WHEN THE DANCE BROKE, Finn led Octavia Hennington back to where
he’d found her and bowed before taking his leave. If she hadn’t pressed him
into it, he would never have danced with her, and it seemed the intent was
to warn him off.
Having had enough of dancing, he took himself to the cards room,
which was thick with tobacco smoke, and away from the colorful displays
and hopeful young women.
“Managed to escape her?” a man asked. Julius Hennington. Finn
had seen him earlier when the Forthill family had been receiving.
Personally, Finn wasn’t sure of the wisdom in aligning oneself to this
family. Granted, they were prominent, and probably not worse than many
others. In the time or two he’d met Cressida Forthill, she hadn’t left the best
impression on him.
But judging from how Octavia had just treated him, perhaps this
was a family with a comparable sense of entitlement.
“Who?” Finn asked.
“My sister. Please, have a seat,” he said, indicating the spare chair at
the table.
“I’m not much of a player.” It had never been an activity he’d
invested a great deal of time in. Mostly, he’d just now sought the cards table
to get away from the mercenary eyes traveling the other room, seeking
matches for their young wards. But he took the offered seat and drew out
his tobacco pouch. “A whiskey, if you’d be so kind,” he said to the waiter
who approached him. “Miss Hennington was a cordial dancing partner,” he
finally said and Julius chuckled.
“I doubt that. She’s on the warpath when it comes to you.”
“She did warn me off,” Finn said succinctly.
“I’m surprised she didn’t run you through with a spit and roasted
you over the fire.”
“She didn’t mince words.”
“Don’t pay her any mind. Her intentions are good, but at times, she
tackles her tasks with vigor.” Tackled was probably a good word for it. “She
takes it upon herself to protect us mere men from our own foolishness.”
That still couldn’t mean she approved of how the Forthill women
had treated her tonight. If she’d been a proponent of Julius’ marriage to
Cressida Forthill before tonight, she surely wasn’t going to be from now on.
“Do you play?” Julius asked.
“On occasion. Deal me in.”
The croupier included him in the next round, but his lack of interest
saw him out of the game in short order. He’d much rather fold than invest
increasing sums on a game he didn’t care about. As the game continued
without him, he studied the people at the table, and then looked out into the
larger room beyond, where dancing still occurred.
Across the dance floor, he saw Lord Warwick give Eliza a drink,
and the smile she gave him in return. She adored her husband. One only had
to see her smile at him to know it. Octavia’s warning was true. Eliza loved
her husband.
With a sigh, he returned his attention to the game. Towards the end
of it, even Julius had bowed out when the stakes became uncomfortably
high. Some men refused to give, and there were two of them competing
with each other. Like most, Finn understood the competitiveness between
men, but this was a stupid place to exercise it. He could be accused of
treating his investments as the stage of competition he’d chosen, an arena
where his success pleased him.
As with anything, success needed some level of study. For his kind
of investments, a broader understanding of the world helped immensely
when deciding how to place himself at the pinch point that enabled others to
realize their ambition. With Eliza, however, there seemed to be no such
point.
His attention was drawn by Octavia passing by on the dancefloor,
accompanied by a dark-haired man. Her smile was a very different thing
from what he’d received from her. As opposed to him, she wanted to make
a good impression on this man.
“Do you have sisters?” Julius Hennington asked, seemingly having
observed his distraction.
“No, I have no siblings.” As a child, he’d lamented the lack of
siblings, not being able to play the kinds of games that other children
played at home. His childhood had nonetheless been happy for the most
part. As a youth, everything had changed while he’d been at boarding
school, and his family had shrunk to the size of one. It had been a shock to
start with, but his studies, and then his social life, had distracted him.
He’d learnt to fend for himself, with the assistance of good staff
with progressive management skills. Hiring good people was one of his
skills, and it had served him well. There was no financial detriment to either
his investments or his estate, but recently, there had been an itch for roots,
for grounding and stability. This dreaded longing that seemed to come for
everyone, in the end.
The dancing finished and Octavia was led to the side, where her
dancing partner chatted with her. She giggled at something he said and then
prodded him with her fan. All sweetness and mirth. Quite a different
woman entirely from the one he’d just encountered.
“Who’s that she’s dancing with? Fervoy? Well, he is pretty enough.
She tends to flirt with the handsomest men. It seems Fervoy is to be the
target for her flirting this year. My sister is a consummate flirt, until she has
enough of them. Then she moved on without looking back.”
“She seems very decisive,” Finn said and turned to seek the waiter
for another drink.
“Please don’t take her behavior to heart. She’s afraid and she’s
particularly decisive when she’s afraid. Caius leaving hurt her the most.
They were always close, and she didn‘t take his leaving well. She was still
quite young when it happened, and she’s afraid things will go wrong again.
Irrationally so, perhaps, but when is fear not irrational? She would perhaps
feel better if she could control all of us.”
Finn could understand the urge following loss, the need to control
everything around so bad things didn’t happen. Now he was annoyed,
because he didn’t want to feel understanding and sympathy for her. Perhaps
this was simpler and more enjoyable if she was just an abrasive battle-ax.
The source of her fear approached, with Eliza on his arm. He smiled
at his brother, then gave a quick nod to the other parties around the table. If
he felt particularly unhappy about Finn being there, he didn’t show it. “I
think we are going to withdraw a little early.”
 Julius checked his pocket watch. “Aren’t you embracing your
elderly years a bit soon? It’s not even midnight.”
“I hope you enjoyed the evening,” Eliza said. Him being there had
to place her in a difficult position, but not to the point where she ignored
him.
Finn rose to speak to her. “It has been entertaining. A dance between
us was not on the cards, it seems.” Interestingly, Caius Hennington didn’t
react particularly to him speaking to his wife, which suggested a certain
level of confidence in his marriage, or utter lack of caring. Everything else
he’d seen suggested the former.
“It will have to wait until next time,” Eliza said with a smile.
“It seems everyone is gathered,” Octavia said, gently pushing
between them. The subtle pushiness made him smile. A lioness protecting
her brood from the invader.
“Fortescue,” Julius said. “Why don’t you come to supper some night
during the week?”
“I’m sure he’s much too busy for that,” Octavia said with shock that
her brother would do such a thing.
“I would love to,” Finn replied. On one level, he found he actually
enjoyed Julius’ company, and on another, nothing he could do would bother
Octavia more than becoming friends with her brother. Again, Caius didn’t
particularly react. Eliza even seemed pleased.
“I’ll have an invitation sent around. And I’m sure my sister will
behave cordially.” There was lightning communication happening between
Octavia and her brother’s eyes. Some kind of challenge, perhaps.
“Of course,” she said as if it was the most unnecessary suggestion.
“It will be an absolute pleasure.”
 “Then we will take our leave,” Caius said. “Don’t bet the house.”
The narrowed look indicated there was definitely some rivalry
between the brothers. Unfortunately, he didn’t fully understand these family
dynamics. Love and competition at the same time. Julius’ words about his
sister had been both dismissive and very tender.
“Ah, here everyone is,” Cressida Forthill said, approaching the
table. “I was starting to wonder.”
Finn felt Octavia tense beside him, but her smile never faltered.
“Care for another dance?” he found himself asking.
“No, but thank you. I need some rest,” she said and left them.
“Father has some people he would like you to meet,” Cressida
continued, smiling serenely.
Caius and Eliza said their final goodbyes, and Finn found himself
left with Julius and his intended. “Then I will seek him presently,” Julius
said. “Where did you see him last?”
“Toward the dining room.”
“Well, then. As the round is finished. let’s see what delight he has in
store for us,” he said and rose. “Forthill,” he said with a nod, and Finn was
left wondering if he should follow Caius’ leave and end the evening.
Truthfully, after this, he wasn’t sure he could handle any more dancing and
flirting. His meager tolerance had been worn out.
 Chapter 9
 
“HOW COULD YOU INVITE him to supper?” Octavia demanded as she
found Julius in the dining room. It was close to midday.
“Not so loudly, please.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Octavia said just as loudly. “You invited that
man around when we’re supposed to be pushing him away.”
“Because your efforts are unnecessary.”
“How can you say that? It’s pure arrogance on your part. Your belief
that Hennington men are naturally irresistible and can expect no
competition is simply delusional.”
“Maybe it’s Eliza I have greater faith in.”
“She may not show it, but she’s been very angry with Caius, for
years. Her trust was utterly broken. If you think their relationship is rock
solid, you are delusional. There is still ample opportunity for Caius to
stupidly scupper this marriage.”
“He isn’t the young man he was when he left.”
Really, judging by Julius’ choice of fiancée, the notion that the
Hennington men were wise was immediately overturned. On this thing, she
felt torn. She wanted to be supportive of Julius’ choice, but Cressida was
simply not the person she would choose. Not that there was a contender
standing in the wings. Her brother was onerous, difficult and stubborn. She
should be grateful he’d found anyone at all. And maybe it was a good
choice. In terms of family alignment, it was a very good match. And
truthfully, Cressida’s snobbishness matched Julius’, so they were well
suited in that regard.
 “The least you could do would be not to tempt fate and invite that
man to everything.”
“I invited him to one supper. It is hardly anything. He’s quite good
company. I like him. And who’s to say that having him around won’t
remind Caius not to take anything for granted. It might actually serve them
well.”
It was hard to argue the logic. The fact that Eliza had another
choice, a very good one, was probably a good reminder to Caius to hold
what he cared about very closely.
“Reasonable people are quite rare,” Julius continued. “The man is
also very good at making investments.”
Octavia rolled her eyes. She should have known there would be
some selfish reason for why Julius wanted to associate with this man.
Julius buttered some toasted bread. “I find the choices he’s made in
that regard rather inspiring. And I cannot tell you how rare that is. He’s an
interesting man.”
First Eliza and now Julius. The man wasn’t that charming. Granted,
Eliza’s loyalty stemmed from the man standing by her throughout a very
grim period. To Eliza that said much about his character, but Octavia wasn’t
quite as convinced. Men were sometimes very honorable when it served
what they wanted, and in this case, he’d wanted Eliza. Her loyalty could be
completely misplaced.
With a huff, she left the dining room and returned to her tea in the
sunroom. Right now, she felt a little betrayed by Julius. Clearly her brother
couldn’t see how attractive Lord Fortescue was. Lydia Forthill certainly
could. The girl had been vying for his attention throughout the party, and
Octavia was pleased to say he hadn’t seemed all that enthusiastic about it.
 And then there was the issue of how to deal with the rudeness of the
Forthills. Octavia had a forgiving nature, but it only went so far. That
wasn’t true. If people acted callously, or stupidly, she wasn’t all that
forgiving at all. So what should she do about the cut they’d delivered to
her? She certainly wasn’t one to slink away and lament it. They didn’t know
her if they expected she would take this lying down. And she certainly
wasn’t going to be Cressida’s whipping post when Julius and her married.
No, that was not happening at all, even as Cressida seemed to be setting up
their future relations in that direction.
No, there had to be consequences for their actions. She just wasn’t
sure how she wanted to mete it out yet. But would she go so far as to ruin
Julius’ and her engagement? Julius seemed intent and keen on marrying her,
and she understood that he did so to improve the prospects of the family—
his children. It was an aim she understood. Ruining his plans because his in-
laws had behaved atrociously was petty. Revenge was best when it was
elegant rather than petty. Fundamentally, although she would be quite happy
to rub Julius’ face in the dirt a time or two, she didn’t want to harm his
prospects.
Mr. Tennyson appeared and Octavia looked over. “What’s
happened?” she asked. Rarely did he disturb her when she had her tea, and
would only do so if direct action was required.
“Lady Warwick has come to call,” Tennyson said with his typical
solemnity.
“Oh,” Octavia said with surprise. Normally she wouldn’t meet
callers this early, or in the sunroom, but it was Eliza. “Please, bring her
here.”
 Mere moments later, Eliza appeared, looking too informal for her
station. Her dress was much too simple and her hair was tied back in a
braid. This wasn’t the kind of social calling one normally did. “Eliza,” she
said and rose to kiss her sister-in-law on the cheek. “How are you?”
Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes clear. She looked happy. “Well,”
she said. “I hope you had a marvelous time last night. It was a lovely party.
When are they going to formally announce the betrothal?”
“Ideally never, but I doubt I’ll be so lucky.”
“Some of their behavior was a little curious.” So Eliza had noticed
the slight. She didn’t always pay attention to such things.
“They’re a lovely family,” Octavia said tartly. “Adorable, especially
as we are to be tied to them for perpetuity.”
“They seem well matched in some regards,” Eliza said carefully.
“In that they are both dreadful snobs. Yes, they are well-matched in
that regard.”
“I suspect they’re trying to enforce the pecking order,” Eliza said, as
if she was trying to explain away their behavior. Clearly she was worried
that Octavia had taken the cut to heart. Sometimes Eliza was so very
innocent. A true paradox, innocent but strong as steel when she needed to
be. In all that had happened, she’d managed to keep her heart from
darkening. She really was a jewel—and maybe even too good for Caius.
“How is my brother?”
“Well, he has some compendium he wished to attend this morning.
It wasn’t something that particularly interests me, so I thought I would
come see how you are.”
“As good as always. Tea?”
 “I would love some.”
Tennyson had brought another cup and Octavia sat forward and
poured the tea, topping up her own cup as well. “The weather is turning. It’s
getting colder in the mornings. I find I quite enjoy the dark, rainy days after
a long, hot summer.” It wasn’t particularly dark today, light gray perhaps.
“And how is Mrs. Broadman?”
“She’s traveling at the moment, and she’s taken her children with
her this time.”
Which meant there was no reason Eliza shouldn’t stay with Caius.
At a guess, Octavia believed she had the previous night. “Speaking of, have
you and Caius spoken any more about taking a trip to the continent?”
“Not recently.”
“You should go. I think it would do you both good. You’ve both
worked very hard in the last few months, so some time away to explore
would serve you well. Who knows, it might serve as marvelous inspiration
for you.”
“Well, I don’t have time so much to create any of the booklets, these
days. I am so focused on the management of the business.”
“Perhaps you need to bring a third party into the business, someone
well suited for those tasks.”
“Well...” Eliza said with uncertainty. “It would be difficult to find
the right person.” Octavia wasn’t sure that was true at all. Eliza was
struggling to let go. This was her baby, a business she’d grown from
nothing at all. Caius clearly wasn’t pushing her to step away. Then again, if
Eliza decided she wanted to walk on hot coals, he would probably
encourage her in that too. “Now, I did come here to speak to you about
something. Lord Fortescue.”
 Octavia rolled her eyes. “What about him?”
“He’s a good man, a good friend. You don’t need to be so...guarded
around him.”
Guarded was entirely the wrong word, but Eliza couldn’t bring
herself to say that Octavia had been rude, which she most certainly had. “It
does no man harm to receive a bit of rude treatment every once in a while.
Does them good. It stops them from thinking so highly of themselves, and
Lord Fortescue thinks very well of himself. Probably too well.”
“I’m just saying it’s unnecessary.” Which was actually quite
encouraging as Eliza felt he provided no threat to her and Caius’ marriage.
But it also showed that she liked him sufficiently to not like him being
treated with a bit of abrasion. “He is a good man.” Yes, she’d already
mentioned that. “I believe he’s looking for a wife. Not in the most apparent
manner, perhaps.”
“I think he still has hopes for you.” He’d as much as said so, but
there was no point highlighting his directness in stating it to Eliza. “I
suggested he try his luck with Lydia Forthill. She seemed welcoming of the
idea.”
The slight frown on Eliza’s face showed she didn’t enthusiastically
embrace the idea, which now confused Octavia. Was that because it
concerned Eliza to see him turn his attention elsewhere, or was it the
direction he would turn it to?
“She is very pretty,” Eliza said. “But I’m not sure it would be a good
match.”
“Can you think of a better one?”
The question seemed to stump her. “I’m afraid I don’t know the
complement of women well enough to say. Maybe someone a little more...
Who am I to say?” She remained quiet for a moment. “Judging by past
behavior, he isn’t necessarily seeking someone who’s overly concerned
about their own advancement.”
The statement was obviously true as he tipped his hat to a lone
woman who was about to be decimated by a divorce. It made Octavia
wonder what it was in Eliza that had attracted him so. Perhaps it was that
quiet strength. Or maybe it was that Eliza cared and protected the people in
her inner circle, people she saw as family—which had also driven her here
today to ensure Octavia wasn’t devastated by the Forthills’ cut. Or was she
here to make things easier for Lord Fortescue? Was he a part of her inner
circle now too?
“We should definitely find him someone appropriate to marry,”
Octavia said. “As soon as possible.” Nothing would dispel him as a threat
as getting his own bride to fuss over. Lydia Forthill was perhaps a choice
made in bad faith. “I suppose we could think of someone. The quiet girls
tend to be hard to spot, but they might suit him better. You know him more
than I do.”
“I don’t know him all that well, actually. He’s been very kind and he
fixes everything in the warehouse that I ask him to. That’s not enough to
say I know him.”
Maybe setting Eliza to the task of finding him a wife was a poor
outcome here.
“I know. I’ll talk to Lady Balham. She’s notoriously good at finding
matches for men. She’s responsible for quite a few successful marriages. A
gifted matchmaker.”
“I’m not sure Lord Fortescue would readily admit he’s looking for a
wife.”
 “Well, the wonderful thing about men is that you don’t have to pay
any attention to what they say. They don’t know their own minds half the
time. Sometimes, one must simply do what’s best for them.”
Eliza looked uncomfortable, but Octavia quite liked this idea. And
not solely for the reason that Lord Fortescue would despise it. He’d thrown
the gauntlet, so he could live with the results of it. If she did this right, he
might just come to the attention of the most persistent matchmaker in
society. Only marriage would get him out of this, unless he picked up and
ran. Either way suited Octavia.
 Chapter 10
 
FINN STARTED RECEIVING invitations, stacks of them. But there was
only one he was really interested in—Julius Hennington’s. Why, he wasn’t
entirely sure. They seemed an interesting group of people. Although,
partially he also wanted to be there because Octavia Hennington really
didn’t want him to be.
Perhaps it was frivolous, but he found he enjoyed this... spat.
As the sun went down, he took himself off to the club, intent on
dining there again. Suppers alone were starting to grate. It had never used
to, but he was noticing the stark silence. If he could undo this awareness, he
probably would, but he liked company, and he liked to be able to leave it
behind when he’d had enough.
“Good evening,” the doorman said as he arrived, and he felt the
warmth inside as he walked in. The club did all it could to be comfortable
and welcoming, and he was being seduced by its sedate charms.
“Welcome,” one of the barmen said as he approached. The room was
paneled with wood and the floor covered with oriental rugs.
“A whiskey,” he requested and then took a seat at one of the reading
tables.
“Ah, Fortescue,” said a man Finn barely recognized. “Good to see
you. I believe my wife sent you an invitation to supper one night.”
Finn barely hid his grimace. “Yes, unfortunately, it seems I’ll be
leaving London soon, and can’t accept,” Finn lied. He had no plans, but he
was starting to wonder if coming to London had been a mistake. It seemed
he was being inundated with requests for his presence, and he didn’t have
the energy or inclination to be tolerant. “I’m honored by the invitation, of
course.”
“That is a downright shame. Your name is being mentioned in
certain circles.”
“Oh?”
“You are one of the most eligible bachelors in the city this year.”
“I’m not sure where that idea comes from.”
“Simply a natural consequence of being unwed.”
A damned nuisance. Being inundated with requests for his time
wasn’t something he wanted, or had bargained for. Social engagements
were something he wanted to accept at his own pace. Once or twice a week,
perhaps—with people he enjoyed engaging with. He sighed, trying to think
how he could enforce this. Maybe he should just ignore them and damn the
rudeness. It wasn’t as if he’d given any indication he wanted to attend
suppers and events with people he barely knew. They weren’t associations
he’d encouraged.
“Damned shame,” the man said. At least he had no interest to carry
on the discussion now. He’d been sent on his mission, probably by his wife,
and now there was nothing else to gain. It showed the man wasn’t
particularly interested in the association either.
Grabbing the discarded paper, Finn read for a while and discouraged
other approaches. Really, behavior like that shouldn’t be encouraged.
“Fortescue?” a voice said and Finn bent down his paper.
“Howard. I didn’t realize you were a member of this club.” The man
sat down and shifted until he was comfortable. They’d known each other at
Oxford, and Finn hadn’t seen him since. Time hadn’t been kind to his
hairline.
 “I don’t come often. How are you? It’s been years.”
“Well. I’ve only recently started coming myself.”
“I understand you’ve inherited your title. I heard something to the
like.”
“Yes, my father passed, unfortunately.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. It sounds like you had a good relationship.”
Howard shifted in his seat again.
“Mostly.” A wedding band graced the man’s finger. “And I think I
heard that congratulations are in order for your marriage. Belated.”
“Yes. I married Elizabeth Bartley of the Devon Bartleys. We’re in
town for her younger sister. I felt I’d got away scot-free from having to do a
season when I married Lizzie, but here we are, designated to go to every
ball possible.”
“I’m trying to avoid it myself.”
“Well, when you marry, you marry the whole family, and their
problems.” Howard sounded tired. On the surface, he wasn’t a good
advertisement for marriage. “You should come to supper one night.”
Finn smiled. As they had been friends, he didn’t feel as justified
being rude. “Unfortunately, I am going to be leaving London soon, so I
can’t accept any invitations at this point.” This did solidify the fact that he
needed to leave for a while. Technically, he was being driven out of town.
Hounded, might be a more apt word.
Saying that, having an uncertain schedule was going to serve him
well.
“You are always welcome. Are you dining tonight?”
“I am.”
 “Then perhaps we should dine together, unless you have other
plans?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Howard checked his watch as if he was making determination of
what his options were, then he replaced it into his waistcoat pocket and
smiled. “I hear Rutledge has gotten himself into a bit of hot water with his
estate.” Rutledge, another classmate, had always been impetuous, and made
quick decisions that often turned out to be disastrous. So this wasn’t entirely
unexpected. No doubt the man was cursing his ill luck.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’ve been trying to tell him he needs to change some of his farming
practices, but you remember, you cannot pin him down to tell him things
for the life of him. I’ve made some changes, and have reaped productivity
rewards for it.” Howard had always been a farmer at heart. He enjoyed the
work and was studious. No doubt, he had the best land management
strategies of anyone. It, unfortunately, wasn’t a topic Finn could get
enthusiastic about, but he was skilled at hiring good people.
The supper was enjoyable, going over what they’d heard about their
classmates over the years. It entailed gossiping like fishwives, but there
were acquaintances in Howard’s circle of friends that Finn hadn’t heard
about in a long time. It seemed a lifetime ago since he’d thought about these
people who’d been important to him at one time.
“Why don’t you come over for supper tomorrow night?” Howard
suggested.
“I already have plans with Julius Hennington.”
“Oh?” Howard said with surprise. “A difficult lot from what I hear. I
don’t know him, of course. Well connected. Sizeable estate, too.”
 Finn hadn’t really paid attention to the size of the Hennington estate.
“Wasn’t there some scandal about the brother’s wife? I recall
something from years ago.”
The statement grated him. It was unfair that Eliza was still tarred by
that scandal, but it would never entirely go away, and people who didn’t
know her well still perpetuated it. “I have met her. She’s a lovely woman.”
Instantly, he disliked Howard, which made him wonder about his own
reaction to hearing these old accusations. Maybe it was the unfairness that
made him so defensive of her. There had always been something in him that
sympathized with the underdog, especially the unfairly treated.
“I’m afraid I must return home,” Finn said. It was unfair of him for
judging Howard on something he brought up just like anyone else would,
but he still judged the man for it. “It’s been a pleasure, of course,” Finn said
and rose. The supper was done. He could have sat around and chatted for
another hour, but he’d lost his enthusiasm for it. “Until next time.” It could
well be that the next time he saw Howard, he wouldn’t care, but right now,
he did.
Not lingering, he left the club to emerge on the dark streets of
nighttime London. London was never safe, but particularly not for lone
figures walking after hours. Finn knew how to hold his own if he had to.
The evening, however, made him wonder how much of his regard
for Eliza Hennington had to do with the injustice done to her. Clearly, he
liked her, but his protectiveness might stem from how the world had treated
her, including the family she’d belonged to. Perhaps it had colored his view
on the Henningtons too. Julius was amusing, and Finn enjoyed his
company, but it was perhaps fair to say that his view on Caius Hennington,
and by extension, his sister, was colored by how Eliza had been treated in
the aftermath of the scandal.
Like he’d just responded to Howard, his judgment had perhaps been
a little harsh. Still, Octavia Hennington was deeply aggravating.
Aggravating to the point where he did respond to her maneuvers. Typically
he let things like that flow off his back, but she got under his skin. A tiny
bit, but enough that he couldn’t deny he reacted to it.
 Chapter 11
 
TAKING A DEEP BREATH, Octavia entered the salon where her brothers
and their guests were waiting. She smiled brightly, as she was expected to
do. Why had Julius been so careless to invite Lord Fortescue? Eliza was
even speaking to him as Octavia walked in, and Caius seemed utterly
uncaring, standing over by the fire with Julius.
“Octavia, you finally join us,” Cressida said with a hint of rebuke in
her voice. Perhaps she should have been here serving when Cressida
arrived. It was Julius who’d invited her, and he could be responsible for
entertaining her. If Cressida thought she had a natural slave and companion
in her sister-in-law, she had better think again. Octavia wasn’t her brothers’
lapdog, and she certainly wasn’t going to be for their wives.
Octavia ignored the statement, and the underlying implications.
“You look well, Miss Forthill. That’s a beautiful dress.”
“Thank you. I just had it made. It’s the latest fashion from Paris.”
Oh, and how she didn’t care. It was a nice dress, but she’d only said
it for something to say. Unfortunately, she was stuck with the woman now,
because Julius wasn’t taking care of her. “I’m trying to encourage Caius and
Eliza to take a trip to the continent. They like Paris, so going to enjoy the
city would do them good.”
Now Cressida didn’t care about the conversation. “We’ve been
speaking about Italy,” she said. “Julius has a soft spot.”
Smiling tightly, Octavia grated at being told what her brother’s
preferences were from someone who barely knew him. Further to her
displeasure, Lydia Forthill walked into the room. “Another guest,” Octavia
said, having been unaware that Lydia had been invited. “I hope you’re well,
Miss Lydia,” Octavia said as the Lydia joined them.
“Of course. Never better,” she replied sweetly. Lydia’s eyes
immediately sought Lord Forthill. Their intention was transparent. It
seemed the Forthill sisters had set their intention of the title of Lady
Fortescue for Lydia. For the fact that it would tie Lord Fortescue to the
family for eternity, she couldn’t care less. As it was, this couldn’t be a
tolerated match.
Lydia looked lovely, and Octavia suspected a great deal of thought
had gone into her appearance that night. Her dress was light green and
made of layers of the thinnest silk. It was a stunning dress, the layers
flowing as she walked. No expense had been spared on the Forthill
women’s wardrobes.
Curiously, neither of them asked anything about her. An oversight,
Octavia was sure.
“I understand Lord Forthill will be leaving London for a while,”
Cressida said. “Is he perhaps returning to his estate?” As if she would know.
“I have heard a rumor that something unfortunate has happened to
his estate due to constant underinvestment and neglect. Only a rumor, so I
have no idea if it is true.” Having no loyalty to protect Fortescue’s
reputation, she felt little qualms about engaging in the little falsities. Well,
perhaps she didn’t feel good about it, but the look of concern on the
women’s faces showed their dismay. And really, if she were to discourage
people who were solely interested in him for the size of his estate, she
would be doing him a distinct favor.
If she were a man, she could be called out for such a statement.
Perhaps it was bad form. Sometimes, winning made her lose sight of the
broader context. Then again, Lord Fortescue’s wealth and position would
survive a carelessly cast aspersion. Only an idiot would believe such a
rumor.
Eliza’s laugh drew Octavia’s attention and she left the Forthill girls
behind. Really, Caius should be doing something. Smiling, she approached
and kissed Eliza on the cheek before giving her hand to Lord Fortescue.
“Good evening,” she said. No doubt the Forthill girls were upset behind her
back. “Such a lovely evening.”
“I am honored to be invited to your beautiful home.”
General and expected platitudes. They both played their parts.
“Lord Fortescue, you know my sister, of course,” Cressida said,
having joined them. Lydia angled herself in the best possible light.
“Has Mrs. Broadman returned from her journey?” Octavia asked, a
conversation the Forthills had no interest in.
“Yes, it was a very successful tour.”
Oh, great, so the business would be growing again. On one hand,
she was proud of Eliza doing so well, but on the other, it seemed to require
more of her attention. “That is wonderful. I was just telling Miss Forthill
how you and Caius were considering a trip to Paris.”
“I adore Paris,” Lydia said. “I hope to go again myself someday.”
By that she meant her honeymoon. “Have you been, Lord Fortescue?” Her
expression was both wistful and coy. Clearly, Octavia’s petty statement
hadn’t put either of them off.
“I went as a young man.”
“Did you do a tour?”
“Yes.”
 Octavia hadn’t known this, but then why would she know?
“You must have gone to Italy, then,” Cressida said. “Julius is very
keen to return.”
“Supper is ready to serve,” Mr. Tennyson said as he entered the
room.
Lydia Forthill ducked in and placed her arm in the crook of Lord
Fortescue’s arm. “I’m famished,” she said with a smile. The action was
brazen, but it would likely mean Fortescue would take the seat next to her.
“I think someone has a soft spot for Lord Fortescue,” Eliza said.
Octavia snorted. “The whole family, apparently. I doubt he’ll be able
to sustain the assault. He’s leaving London. Perhaps to get away from the
sustained campaign.”
Eliza chuckled and chided her at the same time. “You can’t say such
things.”
“I wouldn’t doubt if it’s true. He is the most eligible bachelor of the
season.” And Octavia had made sure to point that out to the right people.
Shortly after, it turned out that Lord Fortescue was leaving London. It had
to be cumbersome to be such a sought-after prize. Lydia Forthill had
considerable competition. If she’d thought of it, she would have invited
some of the most attractive contenders, but she hadn’t known people had
been invited for matching purposes.
Of course Lydia sat next to Lord Forthill on Julius’ left, with
Cressida on his right. Octavia took Caius’ left and Eliza his right. It
accommodated Lydia in a placing they hadn’t originally planned for. Or
maybe Julius had known, but hadn’t shown the foresight to invite yet
another guest to make it even numbers.
 The soup course was served and it was a familiar and comforting
taste. As soon as it was finished, Julius clinked his wineglass with a small
spoon. “Now I need to make an announcement,” he said, looking nervous.
This was a moment Octavia hadn’t looked forward to. Cressida was
beaming.
“As most of you are aware, Cressida has agreed to make me the
happiest of men by becoming my wife. The engagement is to be announced
in the papers in the morning, and the banns posted. We are to marry in one
month.”
“Congratulations,” were heard from several parties around the room.
Lydia was dabbing her eyes with the napkin, being so overcome by emotion
for something that everyone knew was happening. Octavia wanted to roll
her eyes, but it was an inappropriate moment. This was Julius’ moment, and
he had decided he wanted to make his life with Cressida Forthill.
“Congratulations, brother,” Caius said and held up his glass for a toast.
“We are naturally very excited about this and hope you will all
celebrate with us. An engagement ball is planned.” Not something Julius
would have promoted, but finally the ballroom would get a proper airing.
“You are all most heartily invited.”
“You will come, won’t you?” Lydia said pleadingly to Lord Forthill,
as if she would be personally hurt if he didn’t. This time, Octavia couldn’t
stop herself from rolling her eyes, but she looked away while she did it.
“Well, I...” Fortescue started, looking slightly trapped. “If possible, I
will try to make it.”
Oh, and he succumbed. Octavia wasn’t sure her opinion of him
could sink lower. But then men didn’t see past the Forthill women’s charms
to the hardened and manipulative creatures underneath.
 But speaking of a ball, she would have to see that James Fervoy was
invited. Really, instead of focusing on Lord Forthill and his succumbing to
Lydia’s charms, she should direct her attention in a more delightful
direction. There had been a few light and playful correspondences between
her and James in the last week. It was an interesting development, but now
it was time for him to show some initiative.
“Who doesn’t love a ball?” Caius said tartly.
“Well, it’s Julius’ engagement, so you can’t even think of crying
off,” Octavia said. “And really, if you don’t dance with your wife, I’m sure
others would be all too keen to.”
“Octavia,” Eliza chided.
“She is much too pretty to leave alone,” Octavia countered with a
wink.
 Chapter 12
 
MANCHESTER WAS RAINY and gray outside the window as Finn made
his way to the offices of Hollers, Smith and Stanley. The invitation to come
hear their proposal on railways in Africa had been something he’d initially
dismissed, but after mulling it over, he’d become more intrigued. Rail
would increase the speed of both people and goods movement across the
continent. This particular proposal was more toward the North East side, an
area he didn’t normally invest in. Although he knew quite a few people who
were utterly fascinated by Egypt and its long past.
The heavy rain kept the streets sparser than they normally were. No
one traveled around in weather like this unless they had to. At times, he
wished he’d stayed home, but suspected he would regret it if he didn’t come
hear this proposal.
In the end, he’d foregone the Hennington engagement ball, even
after Miss Lydia Forthill’s fervent request that he attend. No doubt the girl
would chide him if given the opportunity. Going would have given her the
wrong message, and probably her family as well. If he’d been genuinely
interested in her, he would have made the effort, but he didn’t want to
suggest that he was.
With a wife like her, he’d be hounded to attend every season for the
rest of his life. The idea was mortifying. The amusements of polite society
weren’t for him, and the little time he’d spent in London this year had been
more uncomfortable than not.
Upsetting Julius Hennington by not coming had been a risk he’d
been prepared to take, but he couldn’t be too offended, because an
invitation had arrived to attend a house party post the wedding to send them
off on their honeymoon. It sounded acceptable, and potentially like it would
be a gathering without dancing.
As of yet, he hadn’t accepted the invitation, although he liked Julius,
and actually enjoyed his observations with regard to some of the people he
knew, and their intention related to their business interests. Julius’
friendships with people in the foreign office provided some interesting
tidbits about what was going on within the larger empire’s interest.
During their evening around the cards table, they’d spoken about
Africa, and they had mutual interest. But he also found Julius enjoyable to
spend time with. Unfortunately his sister came as part of the package, along
with her mission to keep him away from Eliza Hennington. It was almost
flattering the degree to which she thought him a threat. Did she not see how
Eliza looked at her husband?
For him, that ship had sailed. Even if her marriage wasn’t perfect,
even if it failed, he would never be the one she wanted to be with. It was
both disappointing, as well as encouraging—that love actually meant
something. A marriage should be something one doesn’t get over quickly.
And that was the reason he could not encourage Lydia Forthill—he didn’t
feel that way about her, and although he could be cordial and respectful to
her, he would never love her.
The carriage arrived and his footman opened the door with an
umbrella ready. The building he entered was finely appointed, a collection
of offices for various companies. The entrance sought to make a good
impression and the inside was decorated with foreign marble and ornately
carved wood. Hollers, Smith and Stanley couldn’t be faring too badly if
they could afford offices like this.
 Mr. Hollers met him and greeted him like a treasured friend after
they’d only met once before. “Awful weather we’re having,” he said as he
led Finn through to an office. The room he was taken to had a large
mahogany table and dark paneling on the wall. A fire roared in the grate, so
it was warm at least.
Two other men had been invited to attend. Mr. Cockroft, who’d
made significant money selling industrial boilers, and the elderly Sir Reiner,
whom anyone who invested knew as a stalwart in business. If Reiner was
interested, then it was a good group of men to be included in.
The proposal was well prepared, and they discussed the rail
extension they were planning down into the Sudan. They spoke about the
goods that the railway would move and the companies it would support.
It was interesting, but Finn found his mind wandering when it came
to some of the details. Reiner seemed to take in every detail, carefully
noting things that he wanted to remember in a small leather-bound
notebook. Maybe this was him in the future, curating his investments with
meticulous interest. It wouldn’t strictly be a future he was opposed to, but it
wasn’t one where he wanted to live miserly by himself in a large house.
The tug and pull of the competition between the Hennington
siblings had proven inordinately interesting to him. And as annoying as he
found Octavia Hennington, it was admirable how fiercely she tried to
protect her brother. Julius had said she was afraid Caius would leave again.
That was something he perhaps understood but didn’t have a great deal of
experience with. Who would he miss if they went away? Mostly his butler.
That wasn’t a good state of affairs, was it? Granted, Mr. Fuller felt like
family—a man Finn had known all his life. Fuller had done more to care for
him than anyone else had.
 Still, a butler wasn’t a wife, he thought, and this only reiterated that
he was ready to marry. It had to be the right woman, though.
“And we expect the annual movement of cotton will be around two
hundred tons a year,” Mr. Smith said, and Reiner diligently wrote it down in
his notebook.
For a moment, Finn wondered what Octavia Hennington would be
like as a wife. Too directive. She would try to manage him and everyone
around her, and probably entirely unable to listen to reason when her mind
was made up about something. Even able to act unwisely when she was
convinced of something she didn’t like.
Even thinking about how unpleasant it would be was heating his
blood, imagining her waiting for him to come home, probably standing with
crossed arms and a distinct pout on her lips. Heaven help the man who
married her.
“It’s an interesting proposal,” Sir Reiner said, his hand shaking as he
closed his notebook. “I’ll give it some consideration.” Finn felt
disappointed in himself as he’d missed the latter half of the presentation,
being stuck in his own thoughts of marriage.
Irrespective, he really needed to make an effort if he was going to
find a woman that suited him, and the only place to find them was in
society. If the season wasn’t such a blatant market, he would admit that it
was where he needed to be. To that aim, he should start with the
Hennington event. When he got home, he would have Mr. Fuller accept the
invitation.
*
The days had gone quickly, even though Finn hadn’t particularly
achieved anything. Yet again, he was in a carriage, heading off somewhere.
Denham Hall this time. Countryside passed by, the weather tolerable. It was
increasingly growing cold, however.
Finally the carriage turned off into a private lane. Long and tree-
lined and the house came into view. It was an impressive house, prettily
sitting in surrounding parklands. The land was extensive, from what he
understood. This was the dwelling of the Henningtons, although Eliza’s
husband has inherited another from an uncle, it seemed. Finn vaguely
remembered meeting the uncle once, but he hadn’t made the acquaintance
with any of the other Henningtons.
Approaching the house, he saw that he wasn’t the only person
invited. Quite a few carriages were being unloaded and put away. By the
size of the building, it could house quite a few guests. Footmen were
organized by senior staff. It would be quite an operation to manage such a
large party.
As he stopped, his door was opened and Finn was welcomed as he
stepped out. The family was waiting in the salon. Finn followed the sound
of murmuring and laughter to what had to be the salon. Quite a number of
people were there, including a few he recognized. Octavia was the first
Hennington he saw, and she was laughing at something a man said, the man
she’d danced with at the Forthills’ ball. It seemed she had a tenderness for
him, because she repeatedly spent time with him.
Then he saw Julius, who stood with his bride, a shiny gold band
around his finger. Finn approached and said his congratulations.
“Good you could make it, Fortescue,” Julius said.
“You look handsome as ever,” Cressida said, standing with her hand
in the crook of her husband’s elbow. “Lydia will be so pleased you’re here.
She’s been looking forward to seeing you. We were so disappointed you
were unable to make it to our engagement ball, weren’t we, Julius?”
It seemed his absence hadn’t relayed the message he’d hoped it
would.
“Yes, of course,” Julius said absently. “Well, please join us for lunch
shortly. I understand the staff are sorting rooms for everyone while we
dine.”
Other people were arriving and wanted to greet the newly married
couple, so Finn stepped aside.
“Wonderful you could make it,” Octavia said, but her tone didn’t
convey enthusiasm.
“On such a splendid occasion, how could I not? Did you enjoy the
wedding?”
“Considering I think Julius has made a mistake in his choice, I
suppose no. But he will not listen to me. My brothers would, without fail,
be better off if they took my advice.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t wear him down.”
Octavia’s eyes narrowed as she looked at him. “Men have a habit of
insisting on stupid infatuations. Miss Lydia Forthill is here. She was greatly
disappointed you didn’t attend the engagement ball.”
“Were you disappointed?”
“Of course,” she said with false enthusiasm. “But never mind.
You’re here now. Dear Lydia will be beside herself.” Clearly Octavia had
observed how uncomfortable the Forthill women’s attention was for him,
and she enjoyed it immensely. “It should be an entertaining few days.”
 And annoyingly, now he found he had nothing further to say. No
clever remark came to mind, because people didn’t normally rile him up
like this. No one made his blood boil. He was much too calm and composed
for that, but here he found himself boiling with anger like a schoolboy.
“Miss Hennington,” he said with a sharp bow, ending the conversation. She
curtsied equally as quickly and they parted ways, like enemies deciding this
wasn’t the time for battle, and he was the one retreating!
Taking a breath, he accepted a drink coming his way and took
himself over to the window, where he would hopefully not be accosted by
any more women, irrespective of their intentions.
Octavia Hennington really was beyond the pale. She acted in ways
not appropriate for anyone, and he’d been at a loss of how to deal with it. It
seemed she was always willing to take it that step further. At some point,
she was going to run herself into trouble with her antics.
From his vantage point, he saw her return to the man she had
interest in. And now she was all sunshine and light, as if she was a
completely different person.
Before long, he was drawn into conversation about the hunting
season. Another activity he didn’t readily engage in—his gamekeeper kept
all relevant populations under control sufficiently well without him.
Stalking and shooting wasn’t something he was enthusiastic about, but he
understood why it was a favorite sport for some seeking to escape the
parlors and heated rooms during the autumn.
Easy conversation flowed, and the time came for lunch to be served.
The mood of the party was light and joyous. It was a good occasion to
throw a party for. Either tomorrow, or the day after, Julius and his bride
would start making their way south to Dover, and over to the continent.
Italy, he recalled.
The idea of a honeymoon crept into his mind, and then the idea of
Octavia next to him, hounding and needling him. His shoulders tensed
immediately. Utter insanity. The problem was that he couldn’t think of
anyone else either. Eliza had effectively left his mind now, in that regard.
But someone like her, calm and controlled, both kind and strong. But he
wasn’t seeing anyone like her around. Surely she couldn’t be unique? If that
were the case, then Caius Hennington really was the luckiest man in the
world, even if he didn’t fully see it.
A bell chimed and people started turning their attention toward a
sunroom where a dining table had been set up. It was lovely. Bright and
filled with fragrant flowers. Finn wanted a moment and let most people find
their seats. When he entered, he was hardly surprised that he saw Octavia
sitting next to the target of her attention, James Fevoy, a man Finn had met
a time or two, but couldn’t say he knew.
And the glaringly empty seat was the one next to Lydia Forthill. If it
was in him, if he behaved like certain others would behave, he would shoot
Octavia a filthy look, because this was her doing. But that was not how he
behaved.
“Lord Fortescue, come join me,” Lydia said brightly. “You must tell
me all about your travels.”
On second thought, would it be out of bounds to throw Octavia a
really filthy look? She did deserve it, but he couldn’t bring himself to act so
childishly. “Of course,” he said with a tight smile.
 Chapter 13
 
JULIUS LOOKED HAPPY, and Octavia was pleased to see it. Obviously,
she didn’t quite understand why he was so happy, but she hoped this
marriage was about more than aligning fortunes. Julius took his role as the
future head of this family so very seriously.
Beside her sat her father at the head of the table, and James on the
other side. She had placed all the pleasant people around this side, including
people her father could tolerate, and the specifications were very narrow.
Narrow enough to bar even Lord Forthill. Granted, she believed he would
actually like Lord Fortescue, but she couldn’t tolerate his presence. It had
been much more pleasing to put him with Lydia Forthill, especially as she
was now fairly certain he wasn’t falling for her charm. It did suggest that he
found their charms rather grating, like she did.
So, he and the Forthills could be in Julius’ domain at the other end
of the table. Herself, Caius and Eliza would insulate their father from ‘other
people’s idiocy’. And it had the benefit of insulating said idiots from their
father’s short temper and cutting tongue. It worked well for everyone.
“I will make a toast,” their father said and stood up. Octavia smiled
nervously as she looked around the table. Father rarely gave speeches, and
when he did so, he couldn’t help sounding like a judge passing sentence,
because that was what he’d been at one point, before he’d retired. “To my
son and his pretty bride, I wish all happiness. She is from an excellent
family, of course, which no doubt greatly adds to her copious charms.
“So, you have all come here to gawk at them in what is a picture of
excited happiness. In the process, I don’t doubt you will eat my food and
consume my drink in equally copious amounts. To my son and his pretty
wife,” he said, holding up his glass in toast. Everyone guardedly agreed and
toasted too.
Octavia breathed a sigh of relief. It could have been much worse. If
anyone took offense, they wouldn’t show it.
The main coursed passed quickly. Venison, beautifully prepared.
There was no faulting their food.
With his speech done and his meal eaten, her father saw little reason
in staying and retired while everyone ate their cream, meringue and damson
liquor desert. Dessert never interested him, and neither did the company
past what he saw as his duty. Beyond that, he had no interest in the people
who’d come to his house.
“Shall we retire to the salon?” Cressida suggested, smiling brightly
to the assembled party. It grated Octavia that Cressida took on the role of
leading the women, but technically it was her role to take now—
irrespective of Octavia being the lead female in this house for more than a
decade. It was Cressida’s role now. Still, it was hard to feel that intruders
weren’t encroaching on her territory. But it had always been inevitable that
Julius marry. Octavia just wished it wasn’t someone she found so irksome.
Octavia joined arms with Eliza as they walked behind the rest of the
women.
“How are you?” Eliza asked. Eliza always had a knack for reading
her emotions.
“I’m well. This will all be an adjustment. I am happy for Julius, of
course. This is as he wants it.”
“They seem to regard each other well.”
Well, Octavia hoped Cressida regarded Julius as well as she
regarded the estate that would one day be his. “Things do change, I
suppose,” Octavia finally said. “One can only hope for the better.” Maybe
keeping things the same was why she hadn’t really invested in finding her
own husband. She’d toyed with suitors, but at heart, she hadn’t been
serious. And with Caius missing, she hadn’t felt that she could change
anything, in case he find a different family when he came back. But now
things were changing. Octavia already knew that Cressida was going to
order this house the way she wanted, and Octavia’s role would change.
“Octavia, the salon is a little chilly,” Cressida said. “Would you
mind going to my room and fetching my shawl.”
Octavia gritted her teeth. “I’m sorry, I promised Lady Warwick I
would play whist with her. Perhaps ask one of the servants.” Without
waiting for a reaction, Octavia walked away. This had to be nipped in the
bud from the very start. She would not be serving Cressida in any capacity.
That might give Cressida ammunition for urging Julius to get her out of the
house, or otherwise negate her, but Octavia didn’t care. This relationship
was not going to be set up how Cressida intended it to be set up.
If she were to look, she expected to see that Cressida was annoyed
and upset, but Octavia didn’t care.
“Come play,” Octavia said to Eliza, “or you will make a liar out of
me.”
“You always have a place at Bickerley, if things prove to be
untenable.”
Octavia smiled, but didn’t say anything. Her suspicion was that
things would become untenable. Cressida would make them so in her
efforts to make Octavia heel. Clearly the woman didn’t understand that it
simply wasn’t in Octavia’s nature.
 Cressida had invited her closest friends and they gathered around
her as she spoke about her excitement for all the things she’d see on her
honeymoon. Listening, Octavia had to steel herself against wishing her
brother’s new wife ill.
“I take it Caius hasn’t succumbed to my suggestion of taking you to
Paris?” Octavia asked.
“We have actually talked about it,” Eliza said with a smile, “but I
don’t think it will happen.”
“Whyever not?” Octavia demanded.
“Because I am with child,” Eliza whispered quietly.
Octavia gasped. Pleasure rushed around her body. “This is the best
news.” Now she wanted to run around and shout with joy, but Eliza made
gestures for her to calm down. Well, it seemed her brother could figure out
what to do in the end. “My deepest congratulations.”
“It is exciting,” Eliza said.
“What does that mean for the business?”
“Teresa will have to take on even more responsibility when the time
comes, but she is prepared for it.”
And this would mean that Eliza lived with Caius permanently, didn’t
it? She wanted to ask, but she held herself back. It would probably
embarrass Eliza. “Caius will make an excellent father.”
“He is excited,” Eliza confirmed. “We will redecorate the nursery at
Bickerley come spring. It hasn’t been used in living memory.”
“No, it would be terribly old-fashioned.”
“It is a bit grim,” Eliza confirmed.
“I will help any way I can.”
 “You are sweet,” Eliza said, taking her hand. “But unfortunately,
these days, I find I have no mind for cards.”
“Is that a consequence?”
“It seems to be. Perhaps we could take a quick stroll outside.”
“Excellent idea,” Octavia said and they rose, feeling Cressida’s eyes
on them as they walked toward the doors leading out to the veranda. It was
dark but sufficiently lit from the windows of the house.
Lord Fortescue would be less than pleased about this outcome, but it
would prove to him once and for all that he didn’t belong.
*
Cressida insisted there should be dancing in the evening and Lord
Fortescue was more or less manhandled into dancing with Lydia. They
would have pulled out all their persuasive power. Octavia enjoyed watching
his discomfort. Did that make her a bad person? Probably nowhere near as
good as Eliza, who seemed to see the best in people, even after everything
she’d gone through.
“Care to dance?” James said, holding his hand out to her. For a
moment, she’d forgotten about him.
“Of course,” she said and took it. With her family now changing,
she might have to seriously consider marrying, and she wondered if James
was actually someone she could marry. He was handsome, and he was
entertaining to spend time with. There was a terseness of his comments that
she quite enjoyed. He could be ferociously critical when the mood struck
him. “How has the evening been?”
“Lovely, of course. Nothing has been as delightful as you agreeing
to dance with me.”
“Oh, you are trying to charm me now.”
 “Always,” he said with a smile. It gave her the notion that he would
try for a kiss later on in the evening sometime. A little bit of daring, but so
very exciting. Octavia blushed at the thought of it. “Your father made a fine
speech.”
“Did you really think so?” Octavia said with a laugh.
“I think he managed to insult most people present.”
“I suspect that was his intention.”
“Although he showed reserve with his new daughter-in-law.” Which
was a kindness, considering she’d just wed. “But the other one. I’m
surprised he didn’t mention she’s taken it upon herself to engage in trade.”
“Perhaps he admires it,” Octavia said, her smile melting off her lips.
Did he really feel it was appropriate he should say such a thing to her when
she was obviously fond of Eliza?
“Some women get strange notions about themselves and their
capabilities.”
“You mean making the education better for all the children in
charity schools?”
“It’s hardly appropriate for a lady. Give funds if you must, but you
don’t actually produce the material.”
“Is this speaking from your experience of being a lady yourself?”
“Octavia, I’m just saying what everyone thinks. Her husband seems
much too soft to do anything about it. It reflects on him.”
“I’m sorry, I think my ankle hurts a bit. I’ll go sit down for a
moment,” Octavia said and pulled away. She walked ahead to the side of
the room, James following her.
 “I hope you are not unwell,” he said, entirely unaware that she was
upset with him. How could he think saying something like that to her about
her sister-in-law was something she’d welcome? Not to mention that was
what he thought of Eliza, who was the sweetest, most wonderful person in
the world. And a minute ago, she’d been seriously wondering if he was
someone she could marry. Clearly he didn’t understand what people he
needed to have loyalty to.
“Why don’t you go play cards,” she said sharply, and he finally
picked up on her tone. His face reddened, but she knew he didn’t regret
anything he’d said, only that he now observed that he’d said it to her.
Perhaps he’d expected that she would conform with all his opinions,
including his cynical views on her family. “Go on, your services will no
longer be required.”
That was inappropriately rude, but she didn’t care. How could he
say something like that about Eliza to her and not think she would object?
Like so many before her, she ended up being deeply disappointed. Well, she
would pay him no more attention. He might as well go home, his purpose
here was done.
Were there no good men in the world? Caius and Julius could make
silly decisions when their emotions were involved, but at their core, they
were good men who were loyal to their wives. Caius certainly was, and she
was sure Julius would be too. For herself, finding a good man with both a
sense of humor and the ability to not say stupid things had proved a lofty
ambition. Granted, she had paid attention to the most attractive men, and in
turn had found them to be vain and insipid, and plain stupid. James had
seemed different, but when it came down to it, his insides were rotten.
 
 Chapter 14
 
“LORD FORTESCUE, ARE YOU not in the mood to be fleeced at the card
table tonight?” Julius said, approaching where Finn stood by the fire with a
drink in hand. The evening was turning into that phase when those who’d
drunken a little too much were getting a little loud. Raucous laughter was
heard in the corner.
“To be honest, I don’t have much time for cards.”
“A sensible sentiment. I, unfortunately, do get drawn in, even as I
know it’s a fool’s pastime,” he said and took a drag of his cheroot.
“My sincere congratulations on your wedding.”
“Thank you. If we can survive the honeymoon, then we’ll be fine, I
suspect.”
“I understand you are to go to Italy.”
“Yes, I am quite excited. I’m excited to miss some of the harsh
winter weather too. Not all of it, mind you. We’re only going for six
weeks.”
“It’s a fair amount of time.” Not a leisurely tour, but when one had
responsibilities to get back to, six weeks was a considerable amount of
time.
“I hear you’ve been keeping the company of Sir Reiner,” Julius said
and Finn was impressed how well informed he was. There hadn’t been that
many people at the meeting in Manchester.
“Only with regard to an investment.”
“The man is legendary. It will be an interesting investment if Reiner
is involved.”
 “Rail in lower Egypt.”
“Ah, the Sudan. There are tales of untold treasures in the country.”
“And trade that could be developed.”
“The East India company has been making some forays into the
Sudan, I believe. I hear they have made some plans in that region.”
That was good to hear. Julius did seem to hear things others didn’t,
including himself. “You are not considering making investments yourself?”
“Unfortunately, such decisions are my father’s to make. I have some
small holdings in India, but nothing of the magnitude required to make a
decent stake in an emerging opportunity. My father is very old-fashioned.
His comfort has always been in the West Indies.”
It was a shame. His father should make use of his son’s skill and
knowledge, but it wasn’t uncommon that the previous generation dismiss
the interests of the following one. It was the unfortunate position that Julius
was still in. “But I do hope we can discuss it further when I return from the
Continent,” Julius said. “I’m interested to hear of your plans.” And Finn
was certainly interested to hear any tidbits Julius had heard through his
contact. “I’ll introduce you to some friends.”
No doubt an introduction he would greatly benefit from. “That is
very generous. We should stick together us who are interested in trade more
than seeking benefits through Parliament.” They both agreed there, too. So
many still believed that Parliament was the way to sustaining their fortune,
in passing laws that served them, while bamboozling the public into
believing the outcome would be something very different. It had both
cynicism and deception, and there was something uncomfortable about it
for Finn, and he’d much rather focus on developing trade that served
everyone. It seemed Julius felt the same.
 “Now, I think I am needed, but let’s reacquaint when I return. I take
it you’re staying in London through winter?”
“If I can tolerate it.”
“You know the Forthills have designs on you for their younger
daughter,” Julius warned.
“The ambition has not escaped me.”
“She’s a bright girl.”
“Yes, but she is not destined for me, I’m afraid.”
Mercifully, Julius didn’t argue. “I suppose my sister doesn’t catch
your fancy?”
“I think she would wear your guts for garters if you so much as
suggest it.”
“I see you’ve met her,” Julius said with a smile. Her brother enjoyed
her antics, it seemed. She was lucky to have such a brother, because some
families would censure her more severely. It actually made him think better
of the Henningtons, but then, considering their father’s total and complete
lack of care for society and its rules, it was hardly surprising that they
weren't the strictest advocates for polite etiquette.
“I think I’ll step outside for a while and get some air,” Finn said. It
was starting to feel warm and stuffy in the cards room, and he wasn’t going
anywhere near the dancing where the Forthills would likely hound him into
participating again. Once was enough to reach his tolerance.
“Have you seen Miss Hennington?” asked that young man she’d
been associating with.
“Can’t say that I have,” Finn answered, and I’m better off for it. The
man continued his search, and Finn let himself out of the door into the
darkened veranda outside. A couple stood talking further down, people he
didn’t recognize, and he felt awkward disturbing them, so he continued
down the steps into the garden. The light from the house barely lit it, and
the moonlight helped. It was dark, but not so he couldn’t see the walkways.
Fresh, crisp air filled his lungs and he exhaled slowly. In all, the
evening had been enjoyable, but he really needed to convince the Forthills
that he wasn’t worth them investing their time in. It could be that they
hounded him until he actually married someone else. That might be true for
all of them. London could be out of bounds until such time, and Bath would
be even worse.
Sniffling was heard, and he didn’t understand that someone else was
there until he stumbled onto a figure sitting on a bench. “My pardon,” he
said.
“Go away,” came the crisp voice of Octavia Hennington. He
couldn’t see her eyes, but he could see that she wiped them. There had been
tears.
“You are upset,” he pointed out, not knowing what else to say.
“Very observant, now go away.”
Finn felt torn. It wasn’t really in him to walk away from a distressed
woman. “We shouldn’t be seen together,” he stated. It would be terrible for
her reputation.
“Why are men so awful?” she finally said accusingly. Something
must have happened, and possibly related to the man who’d been searching
for her.
“I believe Mr. Fervoy is seeking you.”
“He can go jump in the stream. I should never have invited him. I
should have known he would be utterly disappointing, because you all are.”
 “I am glad to hear that I’ve been included in that company.”
“How can you not be? My sister-in-law is with child, by the way, so
there is some eminently good news.”
“Then she has my deepest congratulations. Julius as well. He seems
very happy.” It might be the wrong thing to say, because she groaned
slightly. “You don’t approve of his choice?” And Eliza being with child
didn’t surprise him in the least. Her husband would be an utter idiot to
ensure that didn’t happen.
“I never said that.”
“I have seen that they seem to be very considerate of you.”
“Yes, they are trying to unwelcome me into my own family.”
“I am sure your brother would do no such thing.”
“Of course he wouldn’t,” she said defensively.
Still, it would make it awkward for her if her brother’s new wife
treated her like the poor relation, someone given charity. It wasn’t an
enviable position she was in, and now her hopes for Mr. Fervoy were
dashed. Finn had no advice to give in this regard. Finding a suitable wife
was proving very elusive. “Us seekers will simply have to keep looking. At
least you aren’t being hounded every time you leave the house.”
“You are very eligible. Word has gotten out that you seek a wife,”
she said, a note of defiance in her voice. “It would have the moment you
showed up for the season.”
Did it sound like there was a certain degree of guilt there?
 Chapter 15
 
SITTING IN CAIUS’ HOUSE, Octavia stared out the window. It was
raining heavily today, and the fire couldn’t quite clear the damp. The slight
clink broke the silence as Eliza returned her teacup to its saucer.
“Have you heard from Julius?” Eliza asked.
“Not a word. Not that I expected to. He’s much too focused on the
here and now to think about sending word to us back home. I’m sure he’s
having a grand time.”
On a rainy day like this, no one was in the mood to call. Since
returning to London, she’d been staying with Caius, rather than on her own
in the family townhouse.
“James Fervoy hasn’t come to visit,” Eliza said, trying to shift
Octavia’s somber mood into conversation. “I expected we would see him.”
“I told him not to. I’m through showing any interest in him.”
“Whatever for?” Eliza asked, looking concerned.
“I simply didn’t like some of the things he said.” Now she hoped
Eliza didn’t press, because the specifics of what he’d said wasn’t something
she wanted to talk about. “I’ll simply turn my attention to someone more
interesting. Did you notice Barnaby Hallaway? He is rather handsome.”
Mr. Hallaway was new to London, and quite an attractive man. His
prospects weren’t ideal, but they weren’t disastrous. A bit of a stepdown in
her situation didn’t bother her, provided she got a good marriage in return.
And Mr. Hallaway seemed a nice man, unlike some of the miscreants the
finer universities churned out to attend their first season. It seemed he was
well-liked, and didn’t display any crudeness in either attitude or speech.
 “I can’t say he made an impression.”
“That’s because you’re not looking.”
“Octavia, you are more than welcome to stay with us for however
long you should wish. I warn against making any rash decisions based on
the changes at home.”
“I have no intention of making rash decisions.” To be sure, Cressida
now being a part of the family, and living with them, was urging her to
more seriously consider the marriage prospects in the men she knew.
“It’s important to find a good husband, a husband that suits one,
more than a suitable husband. I fear Julius has made the latter choice, and I
do hope it works well for him. They seem similar in their outlook on life,
and that might serve them well.” Clearly, Eliza was more worried about
Julius’ marriage than Octavia had expected. She was hoping for the best,
but she was cautious. It reflected Octavia’s view, but more eloquently.
“What about Lord Fortescue?”
“I’m sorry. What about him?”
“He is the most eligible man in town at the moment.”
“Well, firstly, he’s escaped town, and I expect he’ll continue to be
‘escaped’, and secondly, did you just not tell me it was more important to
pick someone who suits me more than who is deemed suitable? Lord
Fortescue would be worst possible choice. We do not get on at all.” Octavia
made a cutting motion with her hand to accentuate her sentiments. Where
was Eliza getting these ludicrous ideas?
“He is a good man.”
For a moment, Octavia had no means to argue, or rather, couldn’t
get the right argument out. Eliza thought he was a good man, and maybe
there was something to be said for him recognizing what a gem Eliza was,
even when the entire world was set against her. And for herself, she
struggled to forgive herself for not seeing through the claims that awful man
had constructed against her.
So it was understandable that Eliza was fond of him. That didn’t
mean Octavia and him were remotely suitable. It was the silliest notion,
born out of fondness, but not rationality. It was so silly, Octavia had to
chuckle. “What ideas you have.”
The comment seemed to make Eliza grow completely pale and
Octavia was confused. Why was this so shocking?
Hurriedly, Eliza grabbed a pot plant and threw up into it, a sight
both distressing and shocking. Octavia didn’t know what to do, while Eliza
hung onto the pot plant as if it would save her life. “Mr. James!” Octavia
called and she heard the man’s hurried step. For being a butler, Mr. James
was extraordinary with his missing arm and general ragamuffin appearance,
but he assessed the situation quickly and rescued the distressed pot plant.
“Perhaps you need to lie down for a moment, madam,” he suggested.
“No, I’m fine. It has passed, I think,” Eliza said, while Octavia
found herself frozen somewhere between sitting and standing.
“It comes on so quickly, I barely have time to react. It’s settling... I
think.”
“Should I bring a bowl, just in case?” Mr. James suggested.
“I should have thought of it,” Eliza said with a smile, looking
embarrassed. Well, at least her cheeks were nice and pink now rather than
the instantaneous pale of a minute ago. “I’m fine,” she reiterated.
“It is the morning sickness?” Octavia asked—something she’d
always heard about, but had never seen in person. And it was shocking how
violently it had come on.
 “Yes, but they lie. It isn’t just mornings at all. It can happen any
time. If it was just mornings, you could plan your day around it. As it is, I
should walk around with a bowl wherever I go.”
Mr. James took the plant away.
Was Caius aware of this? He had to be. “Where is my brother?”
“He had to go somewhere,” Eliza answered. “He said, but you
know, I can’t remember anything people tell me at the moment.” Well,
hopefully she’d forget entirely bringing up any notion of her and Lord
Fortescue, Octavia thought. She hadn’t realized Eliza was so fragile in her
pregnancy. “Now what were we talking about?”
“The nursery,” Octavia lied. “You have yet to decide what color it
should be.”
“I don’t recall mentioning, but I think green.”
“Green is an excellent color for a nursery.” The one upstairs was
from another time, probably from when fairytales were from, when there
seemed to have been a more grim view on raising children. It was dark and
unpleasant, and she felt sorry for any family members who’d grown up
there.
“Saying that, it might be better to have the child at Bickerley. It will
be hot and unpleasant here by the time the child is born.”
“Well, getting to Bickerley might not be pleasant. You can’t go now
—you’d freeze to death. And come spring, travel may be too difficult.”
“We will see,” Eliza said. “It’s not ideal.”
Child-carrying never was. Octavia couldn’t imagine herself doing it,
and much less so with Lord Fortescue being the cause. It was the most
insane thought she could think of. Lord Fortescue stroking her belly the
way Caius did—that was … ludicrious.
 “Would you like some tea?” Octavia asked with uncertainty.
“Oh, I might fast just for a moment,” Eliza said with a smile.
Eliza would make an excellent mother, but Octavia was starting to
wonder if the pregnancy might be difficult for her. “They say the sickness
passes after a few months.”
“One can only hope. We should perhaps purchase some furniture for
the nursery,” Eliza said. “We should see some of the furniture makers this
afternoon and see if we can find a style we like.”
It was true that Eliza was never one to keep still, so she struggled to
be at home and doing little. Encouraging her to rest relentlessly was going
to be a nightmare. It was difficult enough not to have her running off to that
business of hers every day.
The doorbell chimed and they heard murmurings as Mr. James dealt
to the visitor. Before long, that woman Eliza worked with walked in, Teresa
Broadman. Rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed. She was pretty, but an entirely
different kind of creature. “How are you today?” Teresa asked.
“Well, considering,” Eliza said. Teresa took a seat without being
invited to. The lack of proper etiquette wasn’t alarming, but noticeable.
Eliza didn’t seem to mind in the least. There was an utter familiarity
between the women. “Tea?”
“I would love some,” Teresa said and reached to serve herself.
Again, it wasn’t something Octavia found distressing, but she couldn’t help
but to note the transgressions.
“How is the business faring?” Octavia asked.
“It is faring sufficiently well, but we have a problem. Vermin have
eaten through one of the grates and have transgressed.” This clearly was not
an acceptable topic of conversation for a ladies’ tea, but Octavia was
learning to expect all manner of unexpected things when it came to Teresa
Broadman.
“Those grates are made of steel.”
“Well, we might have to consider something thicker and made of
iron. There had been something nibbling on our wares.”
“We can’t have that,” Eliza said. “I’ll have to write to Lord
Fortescue to see what he can recommend. This is his responsibility.” It was
jarring having him brought up in the conversation—again. Octavia tended
to forget he was actively the landlord for the warehouse Eliza housed her
business in.
“Oh, and we got a letter from the Shelling Commission,” Teresa
brought up.
“What do they want now?” Eliza said, less than impressed.
The discussion continued back and forth for a moment. Octavia just
observed it. It was entirely unlike the discussions she had when people
came calling. This must be more like how men were with each other. Utter
plain speaking. It was interesting to observe, and it reminded her that there
was a whole different side to Eliza that she didn’t always see. The
businesswoman. Unfortunately, Octavia had nothing to add to the
conversation.
 Chapter 16
 
THERE WAS A SURPRISING amount to do on an estate if one searched
for it. The weather was turning colder and the rain didn’t seem to stop. The
fields were bedded down for the winter, but now was the time to do
everything else—mend fences, fix equipment, maintain the buildings. The
tasks were endless once Finn had started.
The invitations kept coming, many having been redirected to find
him. It was true that he should head back to London to participate, but he
just couldn’t bear it. Still, a wife was not to be found out here.
News had reached him that a tree had fallen across the northern
track, which was causing a lot of problems for the cottages up that part of
the estate. It was only passable on horse, he understood. Something had to
be done, so he headed out to see. The best thing to do was to saw it into
pieces and then chop it up, but it would take time, being a substantial tree,
apparently.
Dark skies told of more rain to come. It hadn’t stopped for days,
which was hampering a few of the tasks he wanted to finish. His oiled coat
was good at keeping him dry, for the most part.
Riding along the road, he reached a bend where there was typically
a nice view, but the weather lessened visibility. Suddenly, his horse got
jittery and he reined her in, before being distracted by a crack that sounded
disturbingly unnatural. His mind told him something was wrong before his
body had a chance to respond, and then the rumbling started.
Kicking his horse, he urged her to sprint, and she needed no telling,
but rocks were tumbling around them, terrifying the horse who stopped in
frozen panic. Finn kicked it into action again, along with the more severe
rumbling behind them. The hillside was giving above them and coming
away. There was real risk of being swept away with it.
Water, rocks and earth poured over the bank ahead, but the worst
was behind him. It was all happening too fast to look, and looking at it
wasn’t the priority. Getting out of its way was all that mattered, and so far
they were managing.
The rush seemed endless, but the horse sprinted toward the crest of
the road to where it was safer than in the gully. Then the horse whinnied in
panic, and a moment later, Finn felt himself fall. Then blackness. This
might be it, he conceded somewhere in his mind.
*
He woke into darkness, and he immediately knew something was
very wrong, but he couldn’t remember what. His head pounded. He had to
escape.
“Don’t move, my lord,” a voice said. A familiar voice. Mr. Fuller.
Finn instantly relaxed. “You’ve taken a bit of a tumble.”
“Best to move as little as possible,” another man said and Finn paid
attention again. “You likely have a concussion, so you may feel sick if you
move. More importantly, if you move, you’ll do more damage.” Damage?
What damage? “Try not to move at all. Not a bit, do you understand?”
Finn nodded. If he actually moved his head, he wasn’t sure, but it
flared with sickly pain. Made worse when someone lifted his head up, but
the cool water that trickled into his mouth was merciful on his throat.
“You’ve broken your back, my lord,” the man said, “but there is still
some response.”
The words sunk in and Finn immediately focused, opening his eyes.
Even in the darkness, what light there was hurt his head. “Broken?” What
did that mean? Was he to never walk again?
“It’s imperative you do not move. Your legs could yet be saved,
provided you don’t move.”
The message was starting to get repetitive. “Fine,” he said, his voice
barely more than a croak.
“Some laudanum will help with the discomfort and will help you
sleep. The best thing you can do for your body now is to sleep and to not
distress.”
Finn was never one to distress, he thought, slightly offended the
man would suggest it. A spoon to his lips urged the both sweet and bitter
substance into his mouth and he fought an urge to cough. Water followed
and he drank. He hated being coddled like this, but he knew it was
necessary. Something very bad had happened. The road and the hillside had
given way.
“The horse?” he asked.
“I’m afraid it was too injured. It told us where to search for you,
though.”
How long had he been there? It didn’t matter, he conceded. He’d
been recovered and he was severely injured, but not hopelessly so.
Lying there, he stared up at the ceiling, trying to get his mind around
this. “How long will it take to heal?” he asked.
The man appeared in his sight. Slim and in his forties, with graying
blond hair. “It will take some time. There is the healing to get you out of
danger, which will take some weeks, and then recuperation, which will
probably take some months. This is not something to be rushed. Slow and
steady. If you have any plans for the next six months, I would reconsider
them.”
 Finn groaned. Six months, surely the man was exaggerating? No, he
probably wasn’t.
“For now,” the man continued, having moved away again, “you
should do nothing but rest. No sitting, no moving. I would suggest the use
of a bedpan for a while, at least until we can fashion some kind of brace
once the immediate healing is done. That should give you some more
mobility. Until then, however, move as little as possible. And even then,
move less. Have I made myself clear?”
“Repeatedly.”
“No excuse, then,” the man said, appearing again. Finn certainly
didn’t like being spoken to like a naughty schoolboy, but conceded the man
had made the required impression. “The laudanum will take effect in a few
moments and you should sleep for a good few hours. I’ll speak to your man
about your nursing requirements. It might pay to hire a trained nurse.
You’re going to require care for some time.”
Lying with his eyes asleep, Finn heard the doctor pack his things
and the hushed voices of the doctor and Mr. Fuller speaking. Had the man
given his name? Finn didn’t recall. Slowly the laudanum started taking
effect and his consciousness warped into sleep.
*
It was light when he woke next, a woman he’d never seen before
giving him water. Annoyingly, she was quite pushy with the water, urging
him to drink more and more. All he wanted to do was push the glass away,
but he recalled that it was best not to move. He fell back to sleep, and this
cycle repeated again and again.
The doctor was there when he woke next. “How are you feeling?”
 “I’m tired,” he said, his voice rough. Even now, his eyes could
barely keep open.
“That is natural. Your brain wants rest to heal itself, and that suits
the rest of your body. You must keep drinking the water. And I think your
staff are bringing you some broth to drink. It will restore you. Healing will
go much faster if we antagonize the body as little as possible. You have a
slight temperature,” the man said, placing a cool hand on his forehead.
“That’s understandable. Your body is doing much work. Let it do its work. I
will come see you again tomorrow.”
Finn didn’t have the energy for politeness, so he simply forgot the
man was there, and moments later, he was sleeping again.
That blasted woman woke him to drink and all he wanted to do was
sleep, but the best way to get rid of her was just to do it. After this, he might
take pleasure in barring her from the room, but the best way to get rid of her
was just to comply. For right now, he was at her mercy. Octavia Hennington
entered his mind and it was who he imagined was forcing that infernal glass
on him. He was too tired to confirm it wasn’t her.
The next day, he had a bit more energy. Not to move, it seemed, but
to open his eyes. Doing so made him feel ill and he kept them closed as
much as possible. The doctor fussed, listening to his heart. His mind
lingered somewhere in between knowing where he was and not, but he
knew something had happened and that it was very important he not move.
“You can move your arms. The break is below your shoulders,” the
man said. “But if you move your head, you might regret it.”
His arm was weak, but he lifted it up on his chest and let it rest
there. Finn opened his eyes, vaguely remembering what the man looked
like.
 “It’s good that you are a little more alert. It means that healing has
happened. To the head, in the least. Your back still needs to mend, and it
will take much longer. Do you recall me mentioning that I’m having a brace
being made for you? It is not here yet, and you’re not yet in a state to wear
it. The concussion will have to heal more, before there’s any point in
putting it on.”
Finn nodded, and pain and nausea flared sharply. A riot of badness,
and he instantly regretted the movement. The doctor had been right in that
regard.
 Chapter 17
 
ELIZA’S INTENSE BOUTS of illness continued, and they all became
better at dealing with them, which made it less distressing for everyone.
Some days she was fine, and other days she couldn’t keep anything down. It
weakened her and Eliza would have to take to her room for the rest of the
day. Caius, as much as she loved him, was practically useless when it came
to the practicalities of illness. The fact that there was nothing he could do to
fix it bothered him immensely.
At times it was simply easier to send him on quests, like finding
crystalized ginger. To occupy him for longer, she sent him out without
telling him that Fortnum and Mason often sold little boxes of it. Who knew
what he came back with.
On a day like this, Octavia didn’t feel right leaving the house, and
callers were turned away. They did receive invitations and Octavia took on
the task of reviewing them, knowing that neither Eliza, nor Caius, wanted to
attend any of them. In fairness, she would ask before she wrote rejection
letters.
In the afternoon, Teresa arrived and Octavia was happy to receive
some company.
“She’s upstairs today,” Octavia said. Teresa immediately knew that
it was a bad day for Eliza.
“Turns out Lord Fortescue is bedridden as well,” Teresa said.
“Oh?” Octavia answered, hating how curious she was every time the
man’s name was mentioned. But she was genuinely curious. “How so?”
 “The letter didn’t specify. You might recall we spoke about the issue
of the grate that needs to be replaced.”
Octavia wished she didn’t remember the conversation about rats
making their way into the warehouse and nibbling on their stores, but she
did.
“Well, we received a missive that stated Lord Fortescue was
indisposed due to injury and would be for quite some time.”
“What does that mean? Is he just trying to avoid dealing with it?”
“I don’t think so. He comes running anytime Eliza asks for
anything, so I doubt it.”
“Yes, well, there’s that,” Octavia said tartly.
“It has to be something quite severe. That was the impression I
received from the letter.”
“Who wrote it?”
“What letter?” Eliza asked, appearing on the landing of the stairs.
She looked pale, but not sickly so. “My stomach has settled,” she said as
she walked down the stairs. “What letter?”
“We received a letter saying Lord Fortescue cannot attend to any
business with regards to the warehouse due to injury, and it suggested it
would be some time before he could.”
“Did Lord Fortescue write it?” Eliza asked.
“No, it was someone else. A Mr. Fuller.”
“That has to be a retainer. He has no family,” Eliza added, looking
worried.
“Let’s sit down and have some tea,” Octavia suggested, in case
Eliza’s worry got the better of her. Octavia also swung between being
annoyed that Eliza was concerned, and then also feeling it was concerning.
He wasn’t perhaps her favorite person on this earth, but this did sound
serious.
“I think in light of this, we will have to take on the task ourselves of
fixing the grate,” Teresa said, showing she was as practical as Octavia had
always suspected. There wasn’t much sentimentality in her, but then from
what she’d heard, Teresa had a hardness to her brought on by ill-treatment.
As Mr. James appeared, Eliza requested tea be brought to them.
“I do hope he’s alright,” Eliza said as she sat down.
Frankly, it sounded like he wasn’t, but Octavia didn’t say that out
loud. “I’m sure he’s been seen to by a professional.” That didn’t sound
much better, did it?
The distressed look on Eliza’s face showed she was worried.
Octavia searched for something to say. “He’s a strong man,” she finally
settled on. Too ornery to actually be hurt. Well, the fact was that he was
hurt.
“He has no family,” Eliza repeated. “Who’s taking care of him?”
It felt a little like the conversation was going around in circles.
“That is unfortunate. Poor man,” Teresa said. “Now, I’m afraid we
have a shipment coming. I must get back. I’ll find someone to deal with the
grate.” Whatever affection Eliza had for Lord Fortescue, Teresa didn’t share
it. No doubt she thought it was unfortunate, but it wasn’t for her to deal
with. It wasn’t for them to deal with.
“We must do something,” Eliza said once Teresa was gone.
In this, Octavia was perhaps with Teresa. “It's not really for us to—”
 “If not us, then who?” Eliza shot back. Again, it concerned her that
Eliza was so involved with this man. She’d chosen Caius, was carrying his
child, but she never quite gave up all of her loyalty to this man who she saw
as her friend.
“You certainly can’t go,” Octavia said firmly. “You can barely sit up
straight, and for whatever fondness you have for him, you cannot endanger
the baby.” Caius would be beside himself if she so much as suggested it.
“You can go,” Eliza said, looking at her expectantly.
“I cannot. I cannot go visiting a man in his house.”
“These are extenuating circumstances. You know Caius wouldn’t do
it if I ask.” Oh, so Caius did see the risk in the man, after all.
“Would not do what?” Caius asked, appearing at the door.
“Lord Fortescue has been injured,” Eliza said.
“That is a misfortune,” Caius replied.
“I was just saying that someone should go see that he’s cared for,”
Eliza said. “I know it’s unusual, but I’m worried he isn’t sufficiently cared
for.”
“The man is very wealthy,” Caius said. “I’m sure he is getting the
best care.”
“Provided someone is organizing it. I’m just concerned. And he has
become well acquainted with Julius. Julius would likely call on him to see
if he was alright, but he’s not here.”
Octavia knew Eliza was angling for Caius to go see to the man’s
welfare, which put Caius in an awkward position. Lord Fortescue, too. It
was almost delightfully cruel to send the conquering husband to check on
the slighted challenger. “Fine, I will go,” Octavia said.
 “You cannot go,” Caius stated. “It would be unseemly.” That may be
the first time Caius had ever cared for what was seemly. Clearly there was
some resentment there.
“I will take Melville with me.”
“Cousin Melville?” Caius said as if it was a ridiculous suggestion.
“He could use a trip out of London.”
“I doubt he would want to.”
“Luckily, Melville does whatever I wish him to.”
“Yes, well, you always had a knack for getting him into trouble. Or
rather, you had a knack for getting him to take the blame for trouble you
caused.”
“Don’t be bitter, brother.”
“I’m not bitter. Simply voicing admiration for your tenacity.”
“Why did you come back again?” she asked tartly with her arms
crossed. While the exchange might seem contentious, it really wasn’t.
Bickering was a mainstay in their family. In a way, it suggested all was
well.
“Please don’t argue,” Eliza said, sounding distressed. Clearly, she
didn’t fully understand this family dynamic.
“I will go send a message to Melville to attend to me,” Octavia said.
Then put on her most tart voice. “Your wife needs a grate.”
“What?” Caius said, the picture of confusion.
Octavia didn’t stay to explain and left them to it. But really, if he
took care of some of her needs, perhaps Lord Fortescue wouldn’t come
running every time Eliza needed something. Teresa had even said as much.
 How and why had she agreed to do this, she wondered as she sat
down at her desk and wrote to Melville. The response would be quick, so
they may even leave that afternoon. If Eliza wouldn’t keep distressing about
it, she wouldn't be doing this at all, but Eliza was not going to stop, which
meant that it would keep coming up. It was better for all if she just went and
saw that the man was cared for. It would bring peace to this house from the
disturbance that Lord Fortescue always seemed to cause.
It was a mere trip. It might be nice to see some of the countryside
this time of year. Or likely it would be muddy and rainy, and the travel
would be cumbersome. Already she was cursing Fortescue for making her
do this. The man was nothing but a thorn in the family’s side. And Julius,
the traitor, was taking him to heart like a bosom friend.
 Chapter 18
 
AS DAYS WENT PAST, the sleepiness receded somewhat. Finn didn’t
need to be encouraged to not move. His head flared in pain and distress
whenever he did, but the doctor did allow him to be propped up on the
pillows slightly, which helped him feel a little more normal.
There were random pains in his feet that seemed to shoot through
for no reason at all, and Dr. Peteson was delighted with that eventuality. It
was a good sign, he said, that the nerves were still intact. Pain was a good
omen, it seemed.
Mr. Fuller kept the room inordinately warm, constantly having the
fire fed. There was no chance of catching a chill with such attention. In fact,
Finn was hot most of the time. Perhaps he had a fever. The doctor checked
and grumbled, but he didn’t really say.
Holding a book put too much pressure on his back, the doctor had
told him, so he was stuck with doing nothing but lying propped up on
pillows. Taking less laudanum was making him feel a bit sharper too. Some
was still needed, unfortunately. His back was still aching severely, but he
had broken it, so it wasn’t surprising. Pain was good, he told himself, and
wondered if he didn’t prefer stopping the laudanum altogether.
“I will go for now. Things are going very well. When the brace
comes, you can move a little more, but we must wait until then.” With an
efficient smile, he packed his bag and left. Finn had no idea where he came
from, but he was here often enough to suggest he came from nearby.
With him gone, the house was in utter silence. The only thing he
heard was the standing clock down the hall, and the gentle patter of rain on
the stone outside his windows. Sighing hurt, but he didn’t remember until
after as the pain flared through him. It wasn’t just his back, there was pain
around his chest as well. Probably broken ribs, but nothing to worry about
compared to his back.
There was hope. There was nothing to suggest he wouldn’t mend,
albeit slowly, so he simply had to bear through this period without fuss. The
more he complied, the faster he would heal, even if he hated being an
invalid. The longer-term goals were more important than his immediate
boredom.
Mr. Fuller’s footfalls were heard down the hall. They sounded
different from anyone else who came because of the man’s stiff knees.
As expected, the man came in view at the door. “You have visitors,
my lord,” Fuller said and Finn frowned.
“I expect you told them that I’m not receiving visitors right now.”
“They insisted,” Fuller continued. “They are aware of your
misfortune and have come to see you are well.”
“I’m not well. Send them away.”
“I anticipate that the lady will not comply.”
“Lady?” Had Eliza come to see him? “Who is it?”
“A Mr. Melville Torville.”
“What a ridiculous name. I’ve never heard of him.”
“And Miss Octavia Hennington.”
Finn blinked. Octavia Hennington was here, to see that he was
alright. Had the world shifted on its axis somehow? This was Eliza’s doing.
He knew it immediately. And Octavia wasn’t going to leave until she got
what she wanted. She was thorny that way. Relentless and stubborn.
“Well, I’m not decent.”
 “I’ll inform her.” How was he not surprised that it was Octavia who
insisted? And who the hell was Melville Torville?
Fuller disappeared and it was a long time until he came back.
Finally he appeared. “Can you be made decent, she inquires,” he said.
“No!” Finn said, losing his temper. “If she wants to see me, she’ll
have to do so as is.”
“I could perhaps drape a blanket on you,” Fuller suggested and Finn
snorted. It wasn’t as if he was indecent. He simply didn’t have anything on
underneath the sheets lying up to his midriff. If it wasn’t so damned hot in
here with the constantly fed fire, he could manage more. “No, she’ll have to
take me as I am.”
“As you wish, my lord,” he said before leaving.
Granted, he did pull up the sheet slightly more so a larger portion of
his chest was covered.
Poor Mr. Fuller was having to go back and forth to attend to this
situation that was entirely her fault.
Finn heard her speaking before he saw her. Had he been seen to by a
doctor, she asked. It really was the most ill-conceived question. No one in
their right mind would leave him without calling a doctor to attend.
Mr. Fuller assured her that Dr. Peteson was giving him the best
possible care. And then she appeared with this Mr. Torville in tow—a dandy
by the look of him.
She paused at the door, and then steeled herself as if she was
walking into a lion’s cage. “We received word you’ve been injured, and the
communication indicated quite severely.”
Mr. Fuller brought over two chairs and they sat down. Mr. Torville’s
eyes were lingering a little where they shouldn’t, while she was abjectly
refusing to look anywhere except at his head—and above it.
“As you see. I’m convalescing, but thank you for coming and
intruding.”
“Eliza was worried. Julius probably would be too if he was around.
Did you get your servants out of an antiquarian museum?” she said as Mr.
Fuller left the room. “That man must be a hundred years old.”
It was a fair observation, but he didn’t want to discuss the
complexities of the topic with her.
“What will you do if he drops dead?”
Eloquent as always. “There are others.”
“I’m sorry,” the man said. “We haven’t been introduced. I am Mr.
Melville Torville.”
“My cousin,” Octavia cut in.
Melville stood and leaned over to shake his hand. Finn complied,
but hated to show how weak he was. He could barely do more than lay his
hand in the other man’s palm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in these less than
fortuitous circumstances. I understand there’s some concern about your
well-being,” the man said.
“I’m surprised you came,” Finn said frankly to Octavia.
“If I didn’t, Eliza would probably have tried to, and she’s not fit for
travel in her state.”
At no point in his association with Eliza Hennington had she
denoted anything other than that she was a lovely, caring human being. It
was a shame things had worked out as they had, but such things couldn’t be
helped. As it was, he would appreciate her friendship. “Then tell her that
I’m convalescing and will be restored—eventually.”
 Now an awkward silence spread between them.
“It’s a lovely house,” Melville said after a while. “Has it been in
your family for long?”
“Quite some time,” Finn said, tugging the sheet up a little higher.
“Are there other servants?” Octavia asked. Why did everything she
said sound so accusing?
“Of course.” There were five in total, which would probably
displease her, because it wasn’t enough to run a house like this. “The others
are at the townhouse.” Where he had intended on living before he’d been
hounded out of London through social machinations. The staff here was
simply to see to the house while he wasn’t here. “They haven’t been
recalled.”
“Are they all elderly?” she asked. “Do you run a convalescing home
for retired servants, as well?”
Oh, that tone in her voice—how he had not missed it. “They have
been with the family for a very long time,” he said, managing not to sound
as defensive as he felt. In essence, in some way, she was accusing him of
mistreating these people. “They have a home here for as long as they wish.”
It was so like her to hone in on any issue he was grappling with,
such as his bachelor status, and what to do with his elderly servants. Any
hint of deficiency in his life, she sought it out and probed endlessly. Maybe
he was extrapolating a little out of what he’d experienced, but she seemed
to seek out any discord in his life. Perhaps she would blame him for getting
injured.
“How did you get injured?” she asked bluntly, almost as if she was
reading his thoughts.
“Landslide,” he replied.
 “Landslide?” she said, looking astonished. “Did the earth try to
swallow you up?”
“Are you disappointed I survived?”
“Why would you say such a thing? I came here to ensure you were
being cared for sufficiently.”
Melville’s gaze was traveling between them as if he was enjoying
the show. Just then, Mr. Fuller came with a tea tray, and a misstep had the
sugar bowl sliding off the tray—almost as if to prove her point that his
household was in shambles. “My pardon,” Mr. Fuller said, deeply
embarrassed.
Do not be cruel to my man, Finn ordered silently.
“Let me assist you,” she said sweetly and rose from her chair. “I
think you were the victim of a kink in the carpet.” She smiled as she took
the tray from him. Mr. Fuller appreciated the excuse. And you, Finn said
silently to Mr. Fuller, do not fall under her charm. “I suppose we have to
assist you too,” she said, returning her attention to Finn.
“I can manage a teacup,” he said sternly. If it was small and barely
filled.
“It’s almost like you’re family,” Melville stated with amusement.
What an odd man. And what a strange and distressing thing to say.
 Chapter 19
 
THE ROOM WAS REALLY WARM, but perhaps it was necessary. It
wasn’t impossible to see Fortescue’s form under the sheets. A strangely
languid sight. For sake of propriety, she really shouldn’t have come into his
bedchamber, but these were extenuating circumstances. They had to
establish that he was well, and that couldn’t be done by taking someone’s
word for it. It was possible that servants could misrepresent something, or
be told to say something that wasn’t true.
What was clear was that Fortescue couldn’t move. He was weak, but
he was trying to hide it. Typical man, always trying to make themselves
more than they were. 
“We will leave you to rest,” she said from her seat. “Come, Melville,
we should leave him to sleep.”
They rose to leave.
“It’s not necessary,” Fortescue said as they reached the door. “I have
done nothing but rest.”
Octavia paused and then she looked at Melville. Fortescue was
bored to tears, which was understandable. They returned to their seats.
“Why don’t you tell us who you’re showering with interest these
days,” Fortescue said and Octavia was about to rise again.
“Please do,” Melville added. “It was James Fervoy last time I
checked.”
“Don’t you start,” Octavia said accusingly.
“Fervoy is pretty,” Melville added.
 “I think he disappointed,” Fortescue said with a shrug, but he
seemed to suffer for the movement.
“What injuries do you have?” Octavia asked, a little concerned that
a small shrug should cause him so much pain. “And isn’t that doctor giving
you anything to quell the pain?”
“He was, but we’ve reduced the amount. Pain can be very
informative.”
“Also painful,” she replied. “Can you not move at all?”
“It’s encouraged that I do not move until sufficient healing has been
done.”
“Healing to what?”
“My back.”
Melville winced. “That is bad.”
“It’s a setback, but not irrecoverable.”
“So you will heal?” she said.
“Provided I don’t do anything to impede the process.”
A broken back. That was bad. Many never walked again, and it
sounded as if that could be his fate. It also sounded as though all hope was
not lost on that account. “The doctor said so.”
“Yes, apparently pain is a good sign.”
“It must be the only time when it is.”
Another silence settled, as they, in reality, had very little to talk
about.
“A lovely house,” Melville said.
“Yes, I think we covered that already,” Octavia said. This felt very
awkward now. “What are you planning to plant next year?” Which was
possibly the most inane question to ask, but what else could she ask?
“Barley, mostly.”
“Oh.” They had nothing in common to talk about.
“What did Eliza want assistance with when she wrote?” he asked.
Eliza again. Time to give up.
“Rats, apparently. I cannot mention how glad I was to be involved
with that situation.”
“Then you will be equally pleased to be involved with this
situation.”
“Well, someone had to check on you.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re clearly not.”
“Anyone for a bit of tipple?” Melville asked brightly.
“He’s practically on his death bed.”
“I am not.”
“What better time?” Melville suggested. “What will you have?”
“Whiskey.”
“Absolutely not. The doctor would be shocked,” Octavia cut in.
“An ale then. It’s fortifying.”
When Mr. Fuller arrived, Melville turned to him. “I think we will
fortify Lord Fortescue with two ales, and Miss Octavia will have a sherry.”
“Should I also have rooms prepared for the night?”
Octavia hadn’t actually thought so far as to where she’d stay while
she was here. “We can take ourselves to an inn if need be. Is there one
nearby?”
 “I’m perfectly capable of housing guests, unannounced as they are,”
Fortescue said. He didn’t stretch as far as saying unwelcome, which would
have put him on league with her father in terms of rudeness.  “Have two
rooms prepared for the night,” he said, addressing Mr. Fuller. “And to
answer your question, there isn’t an inn nearby, but if you insist, the village
reverend does put up lost travelers if he must.”
“Then we will depend on your generosity,” Octavia said tartly. “In
fact, I might go see that our effects are directed.”
“My staff are perfectly capable.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re managing the household needs superbly from
your bed.”
Like most men, he probably wasn’t lifting a finger to make the
necessary decisions for the house, and as she went downstairs, she saw
ample evidence of it. Some places looked like they’d gone a bit too long
without dusting. The brass was barely polished and the crystals of the
chandelier were so dusty they looked like drops of snow rather than ice.
“What plans have been made for supper?” she asked as she reached
Mr. Fuller, who was directing that looked like stable boys to carry their
trunks up the stairs. Wafts of horse and hay passed her as they did.
“I believe the cook is preparing something light for his lordship,”
Fuller said. “Soup and bread. And I must apologize as we weren’t
anticipating visitors.”
Good staff knew how to accommodate on short notice, but it seemed
the house was functioning on the barest of staff, of which all seemed to be
of more advanced years.
“I will go see to the kitchen,” Octavia said. For a moment, Mr.
Fuller seemed pressed to argue, but held his tongue. “How many maids are
there?”
“Two,” Mr. Fuller said.
“That is not sufficient for a house like this.”
“There are more in London.”
“Well, the master is currently residing here, so they aren’t much
good there. And from the looks of it, he may be here for quite some time. Is
the house equipped to deal with an ailing master?”
“We make do.”
“I’m sure you do,” Octavia said, not blaming him for the state of
affairs. A bachelor simply wasn’t equipped to properly manage a house, and
it had probably been like that for a while. No doubt their rooms would be
very hastily prepared. “You might have to hire some staff to do a bit of
dusting and polishing. The furniture will be damaged if it’s left too long.”
“I will discuss it with his lordship.”
“Very good,” Octavia said. Running the house had been second
nature to her for a while. It was a role no one else was going to perform in
her house, and she liked having exacting standards and expecting them to
be met. It meant she got to live in a house that ran smoothly, and where the
dust was well managed. Even now, she felt a sneeze building up. It wasn’t
decrepit by any stretch, but neither was it exacting. “Is the dining room this
way?”
“It is.”
Octavia set off into the darkened room. No fire was lit, nor lights.
Mr. Fuller now lit a few of the sconces. It was understandable if it wasn’t
managed as the master wasn’t leaving his room. The room was dusted,
generally, but she could see dust on top of the candles on the table, which
meant Fortescue hadn’t used this room even before he’d been injured.
 “We may have to fashion him a room on this floor,” she said. “At
some point, he will leave his room.”
“God helping,” Mr. Fuller added.
“And likely he will wish to leave his room before his back is fully
healed. Stairs will be difficult for him to manage. We cannot have the stable
lads carry him up and down the stairs, can we?”
“I suppose there is the music room,” Mr. Fuller said.
“Let’s have a look at it.”
Mr. Fuller looked reticent. “I’m afraid it may need some attention
before being viewable.”
As Octavia expected, a few rooms of the house weren’t being
managed at all. “Is there a housekeeper?”
“Not currently residing here.”
“It’s an interesting state of affairs the housekeeper not residing in
the house.”
“She is presently managing the house in London.”
What in the world was Fortescue thinking? Was he reticent to hire
staff? There were some odd people who were so against staff they ran their
houses to the ground. She hadn’t taken Fortescue as a man of such colorful
disposition, but one never knew. “So who is performing the housekeeper’s
duties?”
“The house’s requirements are managed between myself and the
cook. The maids, of course. It is an effort by all.”
“A house is not a democracy,” Octavia started, but didn’t finish in
the vein she intended. “I’m sure you have all managed admirably with your
depleted resources. But we must prepare to move his lordship down into the
music room. His recovery will ultimately not be managed from upstairs.”
“Of course, Miss Hennington,” he said with a quick bow. He may
not like being directed, because she suspected the staff here hadn’t received
direction perhaps for years, but it was necessary in times like these.
 Chapter 20
 
MISS OCTAVIA DIDN’T RETURN for her sherry, which sat on his
bedside table glinting like a jewel in the fine glassware. Mr. Fuller sought to
impress by utilizing the best glassware in the house—the Austrian crystal.
“You’re not drinking?” Melville said.
It hurt Finn to admit this, but it was true. “The glass is too heavy for
me to manage, I’m afraid.”
“Ah,” Melville said and took the glass from his hand where it rested
on his upper thigh and tipped most of it into his own glass. “There,” he said,
putting it back in his hand, with a fraction of the liquid left. “We can top up
as needed.”
“Thank you,” Finn said and managed to lift the glass to his mouth.
The liquid was earthy and smooth, and the burn tickled his throat. He
couldn’t remember the last time he’d had anything other than water, and the
awful sticky taste of laudanum that never really went away. This was the
most refreshing thing he’d had lately, and he savored the taste of it. It felt
like a tiny but important step to normalcy.
“You were at the wedding celebration, I believe,” Finn said, vaguely
recalling the man. They hadn’t been introduced.
“Yes, I was there. Can’t say I remember much of it.” By the way
Melville got through his ale, Finn suspected he was a bit of a drinker.
“Enjoyable few days. So how exactly do you know the family?”
“I am Lady Warwick’s landlord.”
“Ah, the warehouse in Lambeth.”
“Yes.”
 “I’m surprised my cousin hasn’t bought it from you. He has the
funds to.”
“It hasn’t been discussed.”
“But then I think his take on it is that she will soon become too busy
for such endeavors. I believe she is with child.”
“So I understand.”
“There is some business partner or other,” Melville stated.
“Mrs. Broadman,” Finn filled in. He also knew that over time, he
would be dealing more and more with Mrs. Broadman. She was a direct
woman without much charm. His understanding was that she didn’t
particularly like him, but he got the feeling it wasn’t personal. Miss
Octavia, however, was a different kettle of fish entirely.
Speaking of this devil and she returned. “Our rooms are being
prepared. I’m not sure when supper will be ready. You cannot come down,
of course.”
“No,” Finn said, recalling all the meals where he’d had to be spoon-
fed. At least he wasn’t still so unable, but truthfully, it was still a messy
affair, even as he managed some of it by his own hand. “You will have to
dine without me.”  An audience was still something he insisted on doing
without. “And after, I will rest.”
Having visitors had taken it out of him, even as he’d reticently liked
having them here. It was better than staring at the ceiling of this entirely
silently house—even if it was Octavia Hennington. The truth was that he
hadn’t been bored since she’d arrived, but the company was taking a toll.
As soon as he ate, he would fall asleep, and he probably needed to.
“We’ll leave you,” she said. “Come, Melville. Let's find those
rooms. Rest well.”
 A moment later, he was there alone in still silence once more. He
slumbered until he was woken by Mr. Fuller with the arrival of the evening
stew. It was the simplest food, the vegetables all cooked until they barely
held their consistency. It was invalid food, and he hadn’t minded until now
when he had guests to feed. This food was not to the standard someone like
Miss Hennington expected, but he was too tired to care.
*
Finn woke when Mr. Fuller entered his room, followed by Dr.
Peteson. Normally he woke as soon as the sun rose, even before, but today
he had slept longer. It had to be the trial of having guests that caused him to
sleep more than normal.
“It’s arrived,” the doctor said, holding up a contraption of brass and
straps. “It’s the brace.”
“Right,” Finn said, feeling skeptical about it.
“Shall we try it on, then?”
This time, the doctor carried more than his typical black bag, and
lay a cloth bundle on the table and rolled it out. “It will need some
adjustment to ensure it fits properly. Ideally, you would sleep with it too, if
it’s comfortable enough.”
Finn couldn’t imagine that being at all comfortable. The metal was
cold as Dr. Peteson brought it to his body. It was partially a corset with
brass extensions that stretched up his back and front. Carefully, he had to
roll to his side to get it in place, and then roll back, each time worried he
would feel that twinge of pain in his back that said his healing just undid
itself. Slowly they moved him around, and his back felt as though it strained
in places, but not the sharp pain he feared. It did up along his sides with
ties, and Finn felt exhausted once it was finally in place.
 The doctor tweaked, bringing over various tools from the table,
making the contraption even tighter. He felt he could barely breathe within
it.
“Alright, shall we try to sit up?” he said. It was curious how people
said ‘we’ when they actually meant him. He tried, but his muscles felt weak
and the contraption didn’t allow him to get leverage.
“How can I sit up with a straight back?”
“You might have to roll to the side. It’s awkward, I admit.”
Even rolling was hard. The contraption had no give whatsoever. He
was like a plank trying to roll. Both the doctor and Mr. Fuller had to help
maneuver him until he awkwardly sat, leaning back against the pillows. It
was certainly not comfortable, the brace keeping him locked ramrod
straight. But if it saved his back, it was worth it.
“Perhaps we should try to rise,” the doctor suggested, and they
grabbed him around the arms and pulled him to sitting at the edge of the
bed. His leg muscles were weak as he stood, but he did stand. It felt nice to
be upright. Unfortunately, getting there had exhausted him.
“Good,” he said, remaining standing, partially afraid he would
collapse if he moved. “I might sit down again.” It felt a little like defeat, but
this was a good step in the right direction. His back was immobilized, but
the exhaustion from the injury was something else entirely. Luckily, the
concussion was healing somewhat, so he didn’t feel like throwing up every
time he moved. “But this is good.”
Carefully, he lay down again, just as awkwardly as he’d sat up. He
was even too tired to worry about the discomfort of the contraption.
“It has been suggested,” Mr. Fuller said, “that his lordship’s
bedchamber be temporarily relocated to the music room downstairs.” Finn
wondered whose suggestion that was—he felt he had some idea.
“Well, that is something to consider. Do you feel up to tackling the
stairs?” the doctor asked. “Obviously, if you go down, you will have to
make your way up again. Moving downstairs may be a good idea while you
recover. It’s quite a distance, and the stairs will be hard to tackle at first.”
Finn didn’t say anything. The last thing he wanted was to move
downstairs like an invalid, but the truth was that he was exactly that. His
body was weak, and these injuries would take longer to get over than he’d
like. It was the simple truth of it. So either he hide up here in his bedroom,
or he move downstairs. “I will rest now.”
“Are the guests up?” Finn asked.
“Not as of yet, my lord. Mr. Torville made an effort to drain some of
your wine reserves last night.”
“I’m sure he did.”
“You have guests?” Dr. Peteson asked. “That is marvelous.” It
wasn’t the reaction Finn had expected.
“Why don’t you stay for lunch, Dr. Peteson?”
“Well, I...,” he said, checking his watch. “I really do have some
visits I must conduct.”
“Then come visit for supper. I...” He was about to say he would try
to make it downstairs, but he wasn’t sure he could guarantee that. “If
nothing else, you would have my gratitude for entertaining my guests for
me.”
“It would be an honor,” the doctor said brightly. Normally, it
wouldn’t occur to Finn to invite people for supper. Such social activities
hadn’t been of interest to him. It had always been his father’s domain to
deal with the local dignitaries. But he should perhaps include the doctor
after everything the man had done.
 Chapter 21
 
SURPRISINGLY, OCTAVIA FOUND Lord Fortescue sitting by the
window when she sought him at midday. His bed had been empty, so she’d
been confused for a moment, before noticing the chair facing the window.
“You’re up and about,” she said, walking closer.
It struck her how pale he was. “Barely,” he said. “But it is nice to
see something other than the ceiling.”
“I can imagine.”
No one else was in the room, which wasn’t strictly appropriate, but
he was essentially an invalid, so no one could complain too loudly.
Grabbing one of the chairs, she pulled it over and joined him. “Would you
like some tea?”
“No,” he said.
Crossing her arms, she sat quietly and the awkwardness grew. They
had so little to talk about, especially as Octavia could carry a conversation
with just about everyone. With him, though, it seemed as if everything was
awkward and uncomfortable. But the fact that he hadn’t thrown her out of
the house showed he was rather desperate for some company—if not care,
and she wasn’t convinced in that regard. His staff were remiss in the
simplest things.
“I understand the gamesman has brought some venison,” she said.
“You do like venison?”
“I’m not particular.”
“Good. Well, there is venison tonight.”
 “I’m not sure I will be able to attend. The doctor is coming for
supper.”
“Oh, right. The more the merrier. Have you given any thought to
moving downstairs?”
“What difference does it make?”
“Well, I’m assuming as you gain strength, you can do more and
more.”
“Like sit in the salon?” he said with a snort.
“Like go outside on the veranda. Fresh air and sun are better than
doctors, my grandmother always said.”
Octavia wondered if he was struck a little with melancholia. It
would hardly be surprising with such a debilitating injury.
“I think if you were to move, it might be best that they carry you
down, bed and all.”
“There’s a bolster for my pride,” he said with a smile.
“It’s not the time for pride. This is something one must simply
endure, and try to get through it as best as possible.”
“What have you ever had to endure?”
“That is an unfair question,” she stated. People had a habit of
looking at her and assuming her life was a bed of roses. Well, rose beds
came with their compliment of thorns.
“I’m sorry,” he conceded, which was something she hadn’t expected
him to say. “I’m touchy at the moment. Getting here from the bed was
onerous. I don’t like being like this.”
“I don’t think anyone would like it.”
“On second thought, I could use a whiskey.”
 “Absolutely not. You’ll have to try to beseech my cousin for such
vices, but I will not budge, and right now, he’s not here. I think I saw some
rosehip tea down in the pantry. It would do you wonders.”
“Have you been prowling my pantry?”
“Just making sure things aren’t falling apart. When was the last time
you had a look in your larder?”
“I can resoundingly say never.”
“You don’t say. But I will inform you that it’s not sufficiently
stocked for you to spend the winter here. These country houses are
marvelous in the summer and spring for being self-sufficient. Everything
grows in marvelous quantities, but winter must be prepared for, and you
haven’t prepared.”
“I’m sure we can purchase whatever we need.”
“Well, I don’t think you should strip the nearby village of their
supplies. You will need to send a cart to the nearest town. You’ll need at
least four sacks of flour, a hefty jar of baking soda, a good ten pounds of
butter, and that will probably not see you through winter. Yeast too, of
course. Salt, sugar, jams.”
“I’m not a fan of jams.”
“No, but you are also not the only person here, and people need their
summer fruits. Tea, coffee.”
“Fine, you have made your point.”
“I can prepare a list for you. And you might want to send word to
the nearby farmers that you haven’t prepared for winter. They might be able
to supplement you, but it would be wise to give them notice.”
“I’m not feeding an army.”
 “In a way, you are. Luckily, as this house is so thinly managed, it is
a very small army.”
“Thank you for your analysis of my domestic management skills.”
“If it makes you feel better, they are no better than my brothers’,”
she said with a smile. “More distressingly, I’m sure, your stocks of tipple
will eventually run out.”
“Can’t have that. What will I do here during the long, grueling
winter?”
“It might actually be better to take yourself off to London when
you’re well enough to travel.”
“I’m sure that won’t be for quite a while.”
“No, I dare say you’re right.” In fact, it was quite worrying him
being here on his own all winter. Not that she distressed over the fact, but as
one human being to another, there was some basic concern that he be able
to take care of himself. “As I said, you should come downstairs and enjoy
the company while you have some. If not for yourself, I don’t think your
man can handle the stairs for so much longer. Why are you still employing
him?”
“What am I supposed to do?” Finn asked. “Mr. Fuller doesn’t have
any clue what to do with himself if he doesn’t care for the family. I have
suggested retirement, but he won’t hear of it. My intention was that he
largely retire here while I went to London, but it didn’t work out that way.
Now I lean on him more than ever.”
Octavia saw his point now. “The work is too much for him in caring
for you.”
“I realize. I just find it difficult to demote him, which I would if I
brought someone younger in to do most of the tasks that he sees as his.”
 “I take it he has no family.”
“None that he wants to see.” It was quite a dilemma. Servants were
tricky things. They weren’t family, but in a sense they were, and one owed
them loyalty after all the loyalty they had shown. She could well imagine it
would break Mr. Fuller’s heart to have to give up his post after a lifetime.
Many servants were even born onto the estates they worked on. How could
one say they had no right to the place where they lived and worked? It was
a tricky thing, and she didn’t have an answer. She understood Fortescue’s
reticence to act. Shifting himself to London had been a way of working
around it, but that wasn’t an option right now.
“Anyway, I’m sure Melville will be quite happy to organize your
wine cellar for you. He is quite an expert.”
Fortescue smiled, and it might have been the first time she’d seen
him smile since she’d gotten here. Probably since before that. “I will move
downstairs,” he conceded. In light of their discussion about Mr. Fuller, it
was the kind thing to do, because a man like Mr. Fuller would hide his pain,
even as his knees were giving out.
“Excellent. Then I’ll organize some burly men to carry you. I am
sure some will be found in the village, or nearby farms. And maybe
Melville with come up here and delight you with the planning for your wine
cellar.”
“I look forward to it.”
He sounded tired and Octavia felt bad, because she expected this
conversation had stolen all of his energy. By the look of him, he was paler
and his eyes slower in movement, even as he sat ramrod straight. It seemed
so unnatural, but the brace did allow him to move and to sit. It didn’t give
him strength, however.
 “You should eat more often. It will give you strength. I will see if I
can find some nibbles. We might have to ply you with chocolate and
candied morsels.”
“A further blow to my pride. Besides, I doubt you will find either in
this house.”
“Another thing to add to the list.”
With a smile and a nod, she left, but she didn’t feel at ease. Yes, she
could restock his larder, but that didn’t change the fact that he wasn’t
staffed sufficiently well to be cared for properly, and he, understandably,
struggled to retire Mr. Fuller—which was something he needed to do.
Perhaps when he gained more strength, the stark inadequacy wouldn’t be so
glaring, but as it was, he and this house were not in an acceptable state to
leave him in. they simply weren’t.
 Chapter 22
 
AS THE DAYS PASSED, FINN did gain more strength, but the brace was
much too uncomfortable to sleep in. Mr. Fuller had to help him out of it
each night and then into it in the morning. It was a risk, but sleeping with it
on was just impossible.
During the day, he managed to get up and sit. Anything more than
that was just beyond him at this point. But he felt better being able to sit
rather than lie in bed endlessly.
His guests diligently stayed. At the same time, he wished not to
inconvenience them, but he was grateful for the company, feeling that
having something to participate in was helping him with his recovery rather
than simply existing in an empty house. Mr. Fuller, for being a saint for
putting up with this, was not a great conversationalist.
Of late, he became grateful for small victories, and even tiny
pleasures. Slowly, he was healing, but he was worried about the strain on
his most trusted retainer.
“There you are,” Mr. Torville said, appearing in the salon. “You look
much better.”
“I feel better.” At least he didn’t feel at risk of passing out anymore.
He might not have the strength to do much more than sit, however. It was
still a good step.
Outside the window, Finn could see Miss Octavia walking. The
weather was cold and gray, but the rain had stopped for a moment. Perhaps
she was finding the house tedious and stifling too. In fact, she was missing
much of the activities in London, and by the looks of it, she thrived on the
social scene. There was also some new man she had an interest in,
apparently, and she was forgoing all that to be here for him.
It was touching, and the most anyone had ever done for him. “I am
grateful for your company,” he said to Melville.
“It’s a difficult time for you, and even as you were a complete
stranger when I came here, I’d like to think of us as friends.” They’d even
managed a game of cards after supper the last two evenings. Granted,
supper was held at six and he was in bed and asleep by seven-thirty. “It’s
good to see you getting stronger.” There was a tone that suggested that
Melville was starting to think about returning to his life.
“You have been very kind and considerate, and thanks to you, I’m
accumulating a wine cellar many would be envious of.”
“Well, it was a pleasure to sample our way to perfection.” The
sampling had been one of the main pastimes. They’d debated which they’d
liked and then ordered more of them. A curious amount of alcohol had been
delivered to the house, and sacks of flour.
“I feel like I have waylaid you too long,” Finn offered.
“Nonsense. What are friends for?”
“Sometimes friends need to encourage their friends to not escape
their own lives for too long.”
Melville smiled. “Julius is returning soon.” His eyes were on
Octavia, who leisurely walked across the lawn. She seemed to have no
particular destination.
“There are places you both need to be,” Finn said.
“London would be much more comfortable for you as winter sets
in,” Melville suggested.
 “Yes,” Finn said absently, knowing the journey would simply be
beyond him. It was too far to travel in the state he was in.
Outside, Octavia threw down some piece of greenery she had picked
up and turned back to the house. The wind tugged slightly on her skirt and
hair as she wasn’t wearing her bonnet.
Melville shifted and crossed his legs. “Forgiving her brash manner
at times, she’s quite a sweet girl. I suppose the way she was raised, it’s
hardly a wonder she lacks some of the finer sentiments. Her father has
always been a bit of a brute, and her brothers have always been...
pronounced. The softening influence of their mother dissipated with her
death, sadly. So their influence has been predominantly from their father.
Stubbornness is a family trait, but they’re not devious.”
“It’s been generous of both of you to see to me through this period. I
will not forget, but I understand that you must both return to your lives. I’ll
be alright.”
Octavia was coming closer and she would see them through the
window as her advance took her to the nearby door. Cool air stole into the
room as the door opened. “Winter is soon here,” she said.
“We were just discussing our departure,” Melville said. It had
clearly been something they’d discussed, and the frown on her face
suggested she was the one who had prevented it.
“Although you have my deepest gratitude, you must both return to
your lives. It will be a dull winter out here,” Finn said. She kept looking at
him, but didn’t say anything. Her cheeks were rosy from the cool air and
her eyes bright. The walk had done her well, and he wished he could have
joined her for it—even as their conversation was awkward and stilted most
of the time. It was Melville who kept the conversation going.
 But it wasn’t Eliza causing the awkwardness. In all honesty, Finn
had stopped thinking about her for quite a while now, so the awkwardness
with Octavia stemmed from something else entirely.
“And you shall spend winter here all by yourself?” she said.
“While I heal, yes. I am fully capable of spending a few months
alone.”
“Yes, but you’ll kill your manservant doing it.”
That was a point. The constant care was tiring for Mr. Fuller. It was
true. Still, the man would never hear of bringing in another to help. “In a
month, I think I’ll be well enough to make my way to London.”
“It would be days of travel the rate you would have to go at,” she
said.
“The man is capable of making decisions for himself,” Melville
said. The domestic arrangement discussions he sometimes had with her
were not really typical conversations with guests, but her advice had been
both useful and necessary. Compared to her, he knew very little about
running a house. A feature about himself he hadn’t known until she’d
started asking questions.
“You would be much better coming to Denham Hall,” she stated.
“You would be a guest and well cared for during your convalescence. The
house is well-staffed, and there would be plenty of diversions. Julius is
returning very soon, and we can both keep an eye on you.”
“I don’t need you to keep an eye on me.” Included with the
awkwardness was a tendency to bristle at the things she said, which didn’t
happen with anyone else. “Within time, I’ll make it to London.”
“Denham is on the way, so you can stop there on your journey.
Julius would be happy to see you. I know he will be concerned when he
hears what’s happened. So you might as well come say hello and then be on
your way when you’re stronger.”
It was like arguing with a rock.
“Besides, Mr. Fuller is getting exhausted,” she said in a hushed
voice. She had a blasted point. How was it that she was at the same time
utterly unreasonable and also right?
“Fine, I’ll rest on my way to London,” he conceded, although it hurt
him to do so. Annoyingly, she was right in her argument.
“Excellent,” she said in a way that suggested he’d finally seen
reason. “I think lunch must be ready soon. I’ll go check.”
“How do you win an argument with her?” he asked out of frustration
when she’d left the room.
“I find it altogether best not to try,” Melville said with a chuckle.
“Mostly, I simply run away, but that is not within your remit right now.”
Taking himself off would give Mr. Fuller a much-needed rest.
Saying that, he wasn’t gladly a guest in people’s houses. He liked his own
space, but yes, the idea of spending the winter here alone might be a bit
much.
“I understand Miss Lydia Forthill will be there. From what I hear,
she’s has a bit of a tenderness for you.” So they had been discussing that
too, it seemed.
“Is there anything else Octavia has mentioned?”
“Your larder’s atrocious, apparently.”
Finn inhaled and sighed. “I’m sure she’s remedied that.”
“Her suggestion that you rest at Denham is a good one. It would
break up the journey, and you’ll be well cared for while you’re there. Lord
Hennington stays at Denham through winter. He deplores London, so the
house is relatively well furnished for colder weather.”
Yes, it made sense, Finn had to agree. He didn’t want to, but he
would likely kill Mr. Fuller if he stayed. Luckily, with a broken back, he
had the perfect excuse for not attending any social engagements this winter,
but he could attend some of the investment meetings he wished to. It was
quite encouraging to think of the future. Each day, he would get stronger,
and this injury would fade from prominence. His whole life had been
surrounded by this injury and what it had taken to survive it, and he looked
forward to those days.
“I do wonder if Julius has found wedded bliss,” Melville said. “A
honeymoon does seem important in setting the tone for a marriage. The
Forthills are high tempered, but Julius can be onerous too. Perhaps it’s the
perfect match.”
 Chapter 23
 
THE CARRIAGE WAS TRAVELING very slowly, and although Fortescue
sat stiffly in his brace for a good portion of it, eventually he lay down across
the bed, which suited him better.
Octavia sat with Melville on the other bench. The weather wasn’t
much to rejoice at, but it was good to be heading home. Melville had been a
sport staying with her, but he couldn’t rightly abandon her either. It had
been his duty to stay, and he’d been as good-natured about it as he could.
Still, he’d missed his friends and activities. Melville was a city creature in
every regard. With him, his interest was very much with people, rather than
with scenery and objects. It made him the most sociable person in the whole
family.
Looking down, she saw Fortescue lying with the back of his wrist
over his eyes. One of his knees rested on the side of the carriage and his
body shook slightly with every bit of unevenness the carriage found. Still,
he seemed much more relaxed in such a position of repose.
“I do wonder what Julius has brought back,” Melville said. “I’m
sure he’ll stock the house with new treasures.” Julius did like curiosities,
and he’d inherited some of their father’s interest in Roman history and
antiquities.
“No doubt he will come back with a cart following him.”
“Or a second carriage to store Mrs. Hennington in,” Melville
suggested.
Octavia shoved him with her wrist. “Don’t say that.”
 “No, I shouldn’t. I might put off Lord Fortescue from marrying her
sister.”
“That’s never going to happen,” Fortescue stated.
“Putting you off or marrying her?” Melville teased and Fortescue
tsked.
“She will make someone a very happy man someday, I’m sure, but
it will not be me.”
It was a curious statement, Octavia thought, and by no means
wavering. He was firm in his statement, which meant he was stuck in the
requirement of politeness in the face of Lydia’s interest.
“Although I suspect there’s a tenacious streak in the Forthill girls.
They’ll only really give up when you marry someone else,” Melville
continued. “They do come from a long line of military men, who don’t give
up until the battle is truly lost.”
“Unfortunately, they aren’t the only ones.” A time or two, the
interest in him as the right kind of man to marry was something he’d
mentioned before, and Octavia had done some things to encourage that
view.
“Unless you mingle with them, how are you going to find the right
one?” she asked.
“It would be infinitely easier if they didn’t constantly present you
with falsities,” Fortescue said.
“That is true. They’re so determined to present themselves as perfect
angels, they hide every single thing about themselves. You meet the real
person on the honeymoon.”
“Spoken like two men who cannot read a single thing about a
person.”
 “And how many times have you been disappointed, cousin?”
“That’s because I take the time to discover who people actually are.
And granted, at such times, they are often disappointing.”
“We’re all the eternally disappointed people,” Melville said
wistfully, but this was still all jest to him. Melville had no intention of
marrying that Octavia had ever seen, but then men rarely did until such
point as they were ready. And Fortescue was ready to be married. He
simply didn’t enjoy the process of courting. Or perhaps it was simply that
he was still in love with Eliza.
Heated annoyance spread up her spine at the thought. Not that he’d
mentioned Eliza at all, or really asked about her in the time they had been at
Wilkeston House.
It was a fine house and Eliza would probably have been very happy
there, but he couldn’t have her. She belonged to Caius and they loved each
other, so he would have to find his wife elsewhere. It was difficult to see
Lydia and him together, however. Frankly, it was easier to see Julius and
Cressida being well suited. But whatever Fortescue had sought with Eliza, it
hadn’t been superficial or based on well-matched fortunes. He'd sought
something else.
What was it about Eliza that had inspired such loyalty? What was it
about her that had made her brother run to the end of the world at the loss of
her? That was an admirable kind of loyalty, and if Octavia were honest, she
craved such devotion. Instead, when she scratched the surface, she got
ugliness, selfishness and even cowardice. Her princes turned into frogs.
One day, however, one of them wouldn’t.
Maybe Fortescue wouldn’t. She had now seen him at his very worst,
and granted, he was a little selfish, a little rude, a little overbearing.
Prideful, conceited, negligent. But she did admire the care he tried to show
to Mr. Fuller—even if he’d shown a distinct lack of care for her brother’s
marriage vows. They had been put at odds because she was loyal to Caius
and he’d gone out of his way to show he wasn’t. It was only Eliza that
stayed his advance. Fortescue didn’t give a toss what Caius thought about it,
and Octavia couldn’t entirely forgive that. One did not forgive people who
threatened family.
But if one believed that justice was divine, then Fortescue had been
served severe retribution. Perhaps a little too severe for the crime.
Something about his loyalty and determination was admirable. He’d just
aimed it in an unfortunate direction.
*
They had to spend the night at an inn due to the slowness of the
journey, but they had figured out how to help Lord Fortescue in and out of
the carriage, and it involved him placing his hands on both their shoulders
while he descended. It was interesting to note how much one needed the
flexibility in one’s back for everyday tasks. Without it, many things became
awkward, if not impossible.
After eating, he rested until the moment they had to leave again the
next day—again preferring the position of lying down across the bench. It
was a half days’ journey to get to Denham Hall. Fortescue was tired when
they arrived home, and she helped him into the room that had been prepared
for him on the ground floor.
He slept the rest of the day and didn’t join them for supper.
Apparently, Julius’ ship was landing in Dover in a few days, so it would
probably be a week before he appeared.
 In all, it was nice to be home again. Melville left the next day to
return to his friends. He’d been imposed on long enough, and being as she
was safely under her father’s roof, he was relieved of chaperoning duty. The
attraction of his life back in London drew him more than Julius’ return.
The weather kept them inside today and they spent the day in the
salon. In the colder months, they chose a few rooms to heat properly, while
the rest of the house was freezing cold. It was the only way to get through
winter. Not that Octavia normally spent winter at Denham anymore, and
after Julius returned, she’d probably retreat to London as well.
“You’re not the only injured creature Octavia has dragged back
here,” her father said. “When she was younger, she was constantly bringing
in broken-winged sparrows, and half-mauled rabbits to nurse. It never
ended well.”
“I do hope I won’t suffer a similar fate,” Fortescue said.
Standing by the window, she ignored the conversation. Her father
was trying to rile her up, but she had grown too wise for his attempts quite
some years ago. Would Julius please hurry up and get here. Saying that, she
wasn’t exactly suffering being away from London this season. It was a nice
change of pace. Surprisingly, she hadn’t hated being a guest at Fortescue’s
house. Melville made it tolerable, even if she was in threat of strangling
their host a time or two.
Over time, she’d gotten used to his presence, and seeing him now,
getting on well with her father, it seemed almost as if he was a fixture in her
life. Strange how someone could become so familiar in a short period of
time. While in many ways, he utterly grated on her nerves, he wasn’t stupid,
nor was he busily trying to hide the cracks in the façade he was trying to
convince the world with. Quite refreshing how Fortescue seemed to hide
nothing about himself. He was open about his intentions and actions.
Granted, some of those intentions hadn’t been in the best interest of the
family, and maybe she should be worried about Eliza’s empathy for him.
Luckily, she wasn’t here, but it might become an issue in London.
Her father laughed behind her. Now he had her father laughing. That
was quite some feat. There was no doubting his charm, Octavia thought
with an eye-roll. Slowly the man was ingratiating himself with every
member of the family. Perhaps it had been a mistake bringing him here, but
she couldn’t just leave him to freeze to death in his house.
 Chapter 24
 
FINN SHIFTED UNCOMFORTABLY in his seat. The brace wasn’t
comfortable and if he sat for too long, it became intolerable. Beside him,
Lord Hennington cleared his pipe and returned to his paper.
“I think I must walk for a while,” Finn said. “I may even brave the
veranda.”
“Careful of ice. The frost can stay in patches quite late into the day
this time of year.”
“I will endeavor to survive.”
“Why don’t you join him, Octavia? See that he comes to no harm.”
Gritting his teeth, Finn smiled. He hated being so coddled, but he
couldn’t fault their generosity. Unfortunately, rising out of the chair wasn’t
an elegant procedure. It was awkward and required him to lift himself out
by his arms. At this rate, he wondered if his back would fuse entirely from
lack of movement. Fusing was the point of the brace, and as long as the
broken vertebrae fused, the rest of the spine would have to simply deal with
the less than ideal conditions.
The air was blustery when he got outside. The skies gray and the
clouds moving swiftly. The rains had stopped for a while, but the stone
walkways of the veranda were wet.
“You seem to have more strength,” she said as she joined him and
closed the door to the salon.
“I am getting stronger every day.” He could feel his strength
returning a little more each day. Naps were still required during the day, but
they weren’t out of sheer exhaustion as they had been. More reviving.
Granted, exertion of energy exhausted him quickly, but plain sitting was
tolerable. A kind of equilibrium had been found in that regard. “I wish to
thank you for all you have done. You’ve been very kind.”
Octavia’s cheeks colored slightly and she looked out across the
lawn. “There are times when one must simply help.”
Not everyone felt that way. He certainly couldn’t see Lydia Forthill
drop everything and come running. In fact, it hadn’t been Lydia Forthill
who’d come to his aid, but Octavia. To begin with, she’d insisted it had
been at Eliza’s prodding, and perhaps it had been, but she’d taken her task
seriously, and still probably saw herself as responsible for him. That was
what she did, set herself at tasks to help her family. He’d simply been at the
receiving end of her protective machinations.
People didn’t always see that strength and concern, more her
forceful manner, which some felt was unladylike. Mostly women. The men
weren’t quite so judgmental. The men she turned her attention to were very
flattered, but they disappointed her in some way, and she wasn’t forgiving
of disappointments. Once she lost her faith in them, they couldn’t gain it
back. No doubt they tried to—she was a fine catch for any man. Her dowry
would have any man saying yes, but Octavia wasn’t looking for just any
man.
There was some degree of jealousy on behalf of the women.
Pettiness was directed at her. Perhaps for her behavior and that she directed
her own courtships. She didn’t wait for a man to notice her, she flirted with
the objects of her interest. They claimed it was unseemly.
“What will you do when your new sister-in-law returns?” he asked.
The Forthill women seemed particularly upset by her and sought to put her
in her place—something he couldn’t see Octavia tolerating. The world
conformed itself to how Octavia wanted it to be.
“I will likely return to Caius’ house,” she said. It suggested Cressida
Forthill made her existence intolerable. Unfortunately, it was her position to
be dependent on others, a situation she was ill-suited for. She looked over at
him. “She will need me.”
Yes, the pregnancy. “You like children?”
“Who doesn’t like children?”
There were probably quite a few who felt children were too tedious
to deal with. One would think her father, but he did seem to enjoy his
children’s antics. Perhaps how they’d been raised suited her brothers well,
but for her, some would say an unseemly personality had been allowed to
develop. “Horrible people,” he said, answering her question. It made her
smile. She was so extraordinarily pretty when she smiled. It changed her so
completely from the scowl he normally saw.
“Do you like children?” she asked.
“Are you trying to get me to admit I’m a horrible person?”
“I didn’t think that was still up for debate. You are the most horrid
of men.” Her tone was light and teasing. “We still haven’t ruled out that
divine justice tried to smite you.”
All he wanted to do right now was kiss her. The thought struck him
suddenly. Unfortunately, he was too trussed up in the brace to do so, or was
that fortunately? Well, this was a development.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, concern written on her face.
“Nothing.”
 “You look concerned. I was jesting. I doubt God was trying to smite
you, more that you are inordinately unlucky.”
“Unlucky enough to have to be rescued by you,” he replied snarkily.
But was it unlucky? The earth had given away under him and he’d become
her charge. Some could even argue that was a thunderclap from the divine.
It’d changed his life entirely and put her in his path. Could there be a
clearer message—if he believed in such things? Which he didn’t. No one in
their right mind would say they got on. Not to mention that he wasn’t
someone she’d chosen to bestow her attention on—except to try to chase
him as far away from her family as possible.
“Some would say just desserts,” she said tartly with her arms
crossed. He still wanted to kiss her. That slight pout to her lips wasn’t
something she put on to be coy, but it drew his attention. He could imagine
reaching for her and drawing her into a kiss, but with this brace, it would
just be an awkward hash job. And really, stealing a kiss after she’d let him
into her home, after she’d rescued him, was coarse.
The cold weather had gotten into his clothes. He wasn’t, after all,
dressed for outside excursions, and she was less so. “We must go inside
before chills are caught,” he said. He held his arm out and she stared at it
for a moment before relenting and slipping her arm into the crook of his
elbow as they slowly walked back down the length of the building. It was
the most mundane touch they’d ever had, slowly walking side by side. It
seemed so... normal. Not part of being hoisted or managed, or anything else
that suggested he was an utter invalid.
“You have a very nice house too,” he said after a moment. “And I
admit, it is very well run, even with your absence.”
 “Thank you,” she replied. “I do have to see to things, even when I’m
not here. According to my brothers and father all these things happen by
magic. They don’t.”
“Are you saying I need a wife?”
“Men cannot possibly take care of themselves on their own. They
simply aren’t built for it.”
Finn smiled. Frankly, he felt he’d managed well enough. Granted,
many of the finer parts were ignored. Things may be a little more dusty, the
meals lacking a certain refinement. If he wanted perfect service, a well-
stocked wine cellar and exquisite food, he simply had to go to his club.
He cleared his throat. “I do like children, by the way. I just haven’t
had much experience with them.” Even as he’d been younger, he’d been the
only child in the house. Beside occasional encounters with the village
children, he hadn’t really dealt with other children until he’d gone to school.
Seeing the Henningtons, he wondered how different his life would have
been if he’d had siblings.
Although, he wasn’t entirely certain why he was telling her this.
Was he trying to disabuse her of some of her more abrasive assumptions
about him?
The warmth inside was notable as soon as they walked in. Lord
Hennington was still sitting with his paper, his pipe propped up in the
ashtray beside him. Finn returned to the seat that seemed his now, while
Octavia returned to the card table where she’d deserted a game of solitaire.
He watched as she turned over the cards and then perused the configuration
below her. It wasn’t challenging for her, more an amusing pastime. As she
played, he watched, watched her fingers, which seemed so dainty and slim
compared to his own, watched her breathe and the way it made the neckline
of her dress that little bit tighter. Then the curl of dark hair that grazed her
shoulder.
“Uh hum,” Lord Hennginton uttered beside him, clearing his throat.
The harsh look suggested Finn had been caught observing the man’s
daughter.
Finn couldn’t help his little smile. Yes, he’d been caught observing
Octavia Hennington. She was lovely—once you got past the abrasiveness.
Quite lovely.
 Chapter 25
 
THE MAIL ARRIVED, WHICH only happened once a week, unless there
was something urgent. Octavia sorted it while she sat in the breakfast room
alone. Her father had taken himself off to his study after his morning meal.
Lord Fortescue tended to spend the early mornings in his room, which was
actually a gaming room that had been converted to quite a decent bedroom.
Business correspondence for her father, a few letters from her
friends, and a package for Lord Fortescue from Dr. Peteson. It had to be his
medicine, she guessed.
She could ask for it to be taken to him, but he was up. A breakfast
tray had been taken to his room some time ago. Deciding to drop it off to
him, she left the breakfast room and knocked quietly on his door. His
request to enter came and she opened the door, finding his room dark.
“Dr. Peteson has sent you some things,” she said, seeing him in the
bed with a book. He was dressed and his breakfast tray stood on the table
nearby. Walking over she drew the curtains back to let in the fairly bright
day. The room changed completely with the sunshine, and Lord Fortescue
seemed annoyed with the light. “Do you intend on staying in bed all day?”
“I was planning on staying a little longer.”
“You aren’t wearing your brace,” she said, seeing him lying there in
a soft cotton shirt. In all, he was rather informally dressed.
“I find it chafing, so I am forgoing it today. For now.”
“You might have to use some padding in places where it hurts.”
“As always, your advice is invaluable,” he said with a hint of
sarcasm.
 “Tricks from experienced corset wearers.”
“Torture devices.”
“Yes, but one does cut a nice figure.” Octavia blushed, because his
eyes did take in her figure with the suggestion.
Putting the book to side, he rose from where he was sitting. There
was still an awkward stiffness, as if he was trying to stop himself from
moving his spine. But on the other hand, he looked more natural than she
had seen him in a long time, as he wasn’t ramrod straight.
“Should you be doing that?” she asked. 
“Will you tattle to Dr. Peteson?” he said and smiled. He came over
to her and she felt as if this was wrong and dangerous. She didn’t like that
he’d forgone his brace. It felt dangerous. Why was he coming over to her?
As he reached her, he took the package out of her hand, the one
she’d forgotten she was carrying. He took it over to the table and groaned as
he reached for a penknife.
“Let me do that,” she said.
With the knife in hand, he pointed it casually at her. “You should not
be in here at all. If your father catches you in here, he will not be pleased.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’re an injured man who needs care and
assistance.” Granted, the notion didn’t sit as perfectly when he didn’t have
his brace on. He seemed less an invalid and more of a man.
Bringing the knife down, he cut the string around the package and
tore it open, showing a notion of strength she hadn’t seen in him. By no
means did he appear a weak man--she just hadn’t been cognizant of his
strength before. Up until now, she’d been so focused on his weakness, she’d
forgotten the natural strength underneath.
 “More laudanum and cod liver oil. I thought one of the blessings
about coming of age was that one could forgo the dreaded oil.”
“Your body needs to heal itself. It is probably a wise gift.”
“Perhaps,” he said absently, and she was surprised he gave up his
position so easily. “I think your father might have a notion that we are
lovers.”
“What?!” Octavia said sharply. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
What was that supposed to mean?
“You did rush to my side when I was injured and then dragged me
home with you.”
“I couldn’t just leave you.” And it had been Eliza’s prodding that
had made her go in the first place. “My father knows that. We’re not
heartless heathens. Neither is my father, believe it or not.”
“Well, he hasn‘t thrown me out. Do you think that means it would
be a match he encourages?” Oh, now the teasing glint was back in his eye.
Was this where they were taking their ongoing sparring now?
“Luckily for you, my father isn’t all that interested in the matches
we make. He stays out of it entirely.” But was it a match her father
approved of? It hadn’t even been something to consider—because there was
nothing to consider. A ludicrous notion all around. And a new battleground
that she didn’t know what to do with—or what she wanted to do with. It had
unlimited potential for teasing, because to him, marrying her was probably
a fate worse than death. And for her, marrying him was... just...
inconceivable. “I’ll leave you to your laudanum,” she said tartly, knowing
he hated how the laudanum made him feel. He'd rather suffer the pain.
 There were other things she wanted to say. Primarily how ridiculous
his assertions were, and secondly, to put his brace on, because he might be
injuring his back further by not wearing it. At the same time, though, the
point they had just quarreled about was that it wasn’t for her to nurse him,
much less act like a wife. So she left feeling much more disturbed than
when she’d entered.
Did her father really think there was tenderness between them?
Obviously, he would never assume they were lovers, because he knew her
better than that, and she was definitely not the kind of girl to do stupid
things with men. She might flirt, perhaps even accept a chaste kiss, but that
was all. Truthfully, she’d never really understood why girls did stupid and
compromising things. And yes, she’d gone above and beyond the strict
bounds of propriety in caring for Fortescue, but her intention had always
been with regard to his injuries and clear vulnerability.
This had also highlighted that being the invalid wasn’t all he was,
and she had perhaps forgotten that.
For the next hour or so, she wrote letters to her friends, who filled
her in on the things she was missing in London. The scandals, happenings
and engagements. Many asked about Julius. No one asked her about Lord
Fortescue. Then again, she hadn’t told anyone the details about him and
how she’d been helping him. It was perhaps a little hard to explain. She had
rushed to his side when he’d been injured. How could she explain that? The
truth was that she’d done it so Eliza wouldn’t. Granted, while at his house,
she had been properly supervised by Melville. And here, her father.
For the sake of her reputation, some distance was perhaps needed.
Melville, she could trust not to create ideas out of this that were not there.
Her father certainly wouldn’t voice his thoughts to anyone, which left Lord
Fortescue himself, and they had a contentious relationship. Wrongly worded
phrases from him could really damage her.
Why hadn’t she even considered this? Through her actions, she’d
given her enemy ammunition to practically destroy her. On some level, he
was aware of it too.
How could she have been so stupid, so unthinking? Her actions
seemed ludicrous now. Granted, at the time, his situation had been so very
dire, but how did one communicate that? At first glance, her actions
conveyed sentiments that weren’t there. And in the aftermath, they would
see him tall and strong. They wouldn’t see how dire his situation that had
been. All they would see would be the threat of impropriety.
Rising from her seat, she went downstairs, finding Fortescue in the
salon, sitting in his brace like he always did. His rebellion had met an end,
it seemed. Now that she was here, she didn’t quite know how to word what
she wanted to say.
“In light of our discussion earlier,” she started. “There is the
potential to make the situation seem different from how it was.”
“And how was it?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. It annoyed her.
“I’m speaking for the potential for you to make it seem things were
different than they were, for the sheer reason of harming me.” No point
pussyfooting around what she wanted to say.
“That would be ungenerous of me.” He didn’t argue the point. As
she suspected, he was aware of this ammunition he had over her. What was
it they said about the fallibility of good intentions?
“So you seek to use my generosity against me?”
He watched her for a moment from where he sat, unerringly stiff-
backed. “I will not,” he finally said. “Your generosity was never anything
other than generosity.”
Octavia didn’t know how to take this, or what he meant. "It would
be ungenerous of you to besmirch my character based on my attentions to
help you.”
“It would.”
“My father really wouldn’t forgive you, if you did something
despicable.”
“Contrary to what you believe, I’m not one to delight in despicable
acts.”
Awkwardly, he rose from the chair. All she saw now was the invalid.
When he wore that brace and was so encumbered by it, she saw him as an
invalid. He moved closer. “If it makes you feel better, provided your cousin
and father are amenable, we can agree to never mention your assistance to
me. No one else knew.” Eliza and Caius knew.
“Then how did you come to be here?”
“I threw myself on your father’s mercy as I passed. Intent on
making it to London, I simply couldn’t make it.”
It would solve all the potential difficulties, but her father, Melville,
Eliza and Caius would all have to agree. Melville might be the weak link in
the chain. He might tell people why he’d left town for a while. She would
write to him, and Eliza. “Thank you.” Obviously, he could lie, but she
didn’t believe he was a liar.
“Now we simply have to worry about your father’s fear that I would
kidnap you and run away with you.”
“My father would never fear that,” she said with a shake of her
head.
 “I would never fear what?” he said, walking into the room.
Now this was awkward. “That I would ever find Lord Fortescue
charming.”
“Really?” her father said. “Has he been trying to charm you, then?”
Well, if her father had suspicions before, they certainly weren’t
doing a good job dissuading him with this argument. “Not my type in the
least.”
“Uhm,” her father said non-committally and took his chair by the
fire.
“And we have agreed, in light of people making faulty
assumptions,” she continued, “that any assistance given to Lord Fortescue
shall never be mentioned by anyone again.”
“Ah, so you will expunge it from the annals of history.”
“Entirely. As neither of us wishes for people to get the wrong
impression.” Importantly, she felt she was communicating the right point
here.
“So you will not mind at all when Lydia Forthill comes over and
tries desperately to get his attention?” her father asked.
“No, it’s a match I have encouraged myself,” she said with a smile.
“Out of spite,” Fortescue said. Who was he trying to help here?
“Only an idiot would marry that woman,” her father said and rustled
his paper before burying himself behind it.
“Your son just married her sister,” she said incredulously.
“Julius married the Forthill fortune—something I suspect doesn’t
draw Fortescue here.”
 “That is true,” Fortescue added. “I seek a comfortable and happy
marriage.”
“Well, in that case, I think you are safe from his attempts to charm,
Octavia.”
Octavia stood with her mouth open, not that she was at all surprised
her father would say such an uncouth thing. “Good, so we all have the same
understanding.”
Fortescue was amused by all this. He would be, because her father
had just savagely insulted her. But in all, it served her purposes, so she
wasn’t going to argue.
 
 Chapter 26
 
OCTAVIA’S EXCITEMENT WAS clear as she watched at the windows for
Julius’ carriage coming down the long driveway to the house. Lord
Hennington seemed to be himself utterly, mostly spending his time reading
or looking annoyed whenever Octavia asked him questions.
“Shall we go for a quick walk?” Finn offered. By quick, he meant
up and down the veranda. As of yet, he hadn’t managed to make his way
down the stairs to the lawn. Stairs would be an awkward undertaking, and at
this point, entirely unnecessary. As it was, he was simply happy his strength
was returning. Each day, he felt better, to the point where the brace was the
burden, more than the injury. His head was clear, his strength was good—
provided he didn’t overly exert himself. A rest in the afternoon and early to
bed. It was all becoming quite manageable.
In fact, it was probably time for him to continue to London soon.
What he hadn’t expected was that his time here had been both interesting
and enjoyable. His relationship with Octavia was evolving. Although he’d
always teased her, he understood her better now. While their dealings were
no less contentious, there was a different tone. At some point, he’d started
feeling more comfortable whenever her attention was on him.
“Alright, fine,” she said. “But only for a moment. It’s chilly today.”
Lord Hennington harumphed and re-shook his newspaper to steady
it.
“I’m sure he’ll be delighting me with sonnets, Father.”
“Hell would freeze over,” Finn said under his breath, but loud
enough for Lord Hennington to hear.
 The wind was sharp as they stepped outside. It was sunny but cool,
and as she took her place at his side, it felt like the most natural thing in the
world. There was an ease between them, and it wasn’t the ease of a courting
couple pussyfooting around each other. It was the ease of a friendship. A
friendship could develop between them. Increasingly, he liked dealing with
her, arguing with her—teasing her. He liked to see her bristle, and then
come back at him. But at the heart of it, it wasn’t friendship. It was
something else.
"So you intend to return to London,” he said as they stepped out into
the brisk air.
“Yes, I will probably do so as Julius travels. I don’t anticipate living
with Cressida will be delightful. Somehow, I doubt the honeymoon has
changed her disposition, but one could only hope she’s calmed down
slightly. More likely I will go live with Caius and Eliza. She needs me at
this time.”
Eliza was still a sore topic, the source of all the contention between
them. “She will make a wonderful mother, I’m sure,” he said. “And I’m
sure you will be a very protective aunt.”
“I can’t quite conceive that there will be a child and it will grow and
be a part of our family.”
In a way, he understood. Children were such a foreign concept. He
could definitely see how it would be hard to anticipate how a child would
fit into the family. It must change a family significantly.
“I was the last child in my family,” she continued.
“I was the only.”
“Do you not miss having family? I couldn’t imagine not having my
family. As deeply vexing as my brothers are, I couldn’t imagine living
without them.”
“I will be honest and say that for a long time, it didn’t matter to me,
but of late... it’s become a central theme in my mind.”
“So you don’t have to rely on strangers to come rescue you when
you’re in trouble?”
“Until now, I’ve always prided myself in not getting into trouble.”
“Some things not even you can control.”
It was even hard to imagine he would have a wife and children.
How many children would he have? One, five, somewhere in between?
He’d have no clue how to deal with them. But there was an emptiness, and
he knew he would fill it with his own family.
“And what of you? Mr. Fervoy will not receive your attention
anymore, I take it.”
“No, he has disappointed me.”
“Are your standards so high men cannot help but disappoint you?”
Octavia looked annoyed. “One has to have some standards. This is
the most important decision of one’s life, wouldn’t you say?”
“It is,” he conceded.
“I don‘t want to spend my life making excuses for someone, or
making excuses for why I’m not happy in my marriage. Do you not see the
difference in people who are happy and those who aren‘t?”
Of course he did, which was why he’d held hopes for Eliza for
longer than he should have. “But happiness may stem from not expecting
people to be perfect.”
“If merely decent is too high, then my standards will simply have to
remain high. I’m sure someone will live up to them. I only need one, after
all.” Octavia stroked her hand up and down her arm.
“Then I hope you will find him. You are cold. We should return
inside.” Saying that, he’d enjoyed the fresh air after being so long inside.
Such a simple thing that he had completely taken for granted.
“What is taking Julius so long? He should be here by now,” she said
when they started walking back to his house.
“Maybe they don’t want the honeymoon to end,” he suggested.
“One can only hope. If it was me, I probably couldn’t wait to be out
of her company. And that is the very reason I have high standards. I require
a better fate.” The mood was lifted, but he did seem to understand her better
after this discussion. She was trying to safeguard her own happiness, which,
when looking back on it, she’d been trying to do for her family as well.
Certainly not a quality he would scoff at, and maybe if he had family, he
would be the same.
Then again, no one was like Octavia Hennington.
Returning inside, Octavia took up her vigil by the window and
waited. It couldn’t be long now, she’d stated, unless they were having a
very leisurely route. Their typical return journey from Dover involved
staying at the Stoney Marsh inn, and leaving shortly after breakfast service
started meant they would be here soon. She watched and intermittently
checked the clock. “He’s here,” Octavia said excitedly, having spotting
Julius’ carriage coming through the row of trees.
Rapidly, she walked to the main entrance and opened both of the
doors. Iciness flowed into the room and even the salon as she did, but it did
not dampen her excitement. Granted, while she insisted Julius was her most
annoying brother, she was happy to see him. Perhaps absence really did
make the heart grow fonder.
 Finn stood and shifted closer to the door so he could see. It might be
a surprise for Julius to see him, and in the state he was in, too.
The gravel crunched as the carriage came around, the horses excited
to be home again. They pranced a little with their eagerness to return to
their stables. The driver jumped down and nodded to Octavia before
opening the door.
Julius’ head popped our first. “Home!” he said and stepped out.
“Come on, my sweet,” he said as he turned back to the carriage and helped
Cressida out, who certainly didn’t look worse for wear.
Even Lord Hennington came to join him at the door.
“It’s so good to be back,” Cressida said. “The most exciting journey,
but it’s not home, is it?”
Octavia smiled through gritted teeth. Only an idiot wouldn’t see that
she found her new sister-in-law unbearable. “Welcome home,” Octavia said
with a forced smile.
“I hope the place hasn’t fallen apart in our absence.” Under
Octavia’s watch? Not likely.
“How was the continent, brother?”
“Still there, I am happy to report.”
“Venice was marvelous,” Cressida said. “They had some truly gifted
seamstresses. The most amazing velvet brocade.”
“We explored what must have been every shop in Italy,” Julius said
wryly. Then he looked over. “Father, … and Lord Fortescue?”
“Mr. Hennington,” Fortescue said with a nod. “I’m just passing on
my way to London.”
 “Ah, right,” Julius said as if there was nothing curious about it.
“Anyone fancy a drink? Something reviving is called for.”
“Yes, please take the trunks out to our bedrooms,” Julius said to the
footman. “The new rooms, not the old.”
They all walked inside and Octavia rubbed her arms to release the
chill in the material. Cressida pulled off her hat pin and then handed her hat
to Octavia without a word, as if she was a servant.
With an even tighter smile, Octavia took it and Cressida walked into
the salon.
“I suspect you are in for a joy of a time,” Fortescue said quietly.
“I don’t know why she insists on treating me like I’m going to serve
her.”
“She’s making a clear statement of rank.”
“I know that,” she replied with annoyance. “I simply don’t care
about her rank. That’s not how things work in this family.”
“Is it worth your time to engage in a dominance fight with your
brother’s wife?” he asked.
“I’m not—,” she started, but couldn’t fully support her own
argument, because she was engaging in a tussle for dominance. Perhaps not
one she’d started, but she was in it all the same. Finn had never realized
there was such a competitiveness between women and where they stood. “I
just can’t stand the fact that I no longer feel comfortable in my own home.”
Walking over, she placed Cressida’s hat on the nearby table and left
it there, clearly refusing to engage in an outright tussle with Cressida’s
dominance attempts. Stopping for a moment, she stroked her forehead and
exhaled. Julius’ return also brought back the new sister-in-law, and this
change had forced her to leave her house and home.  It couldn’t be a nice
position to be in, but from what he saw, she refused to crumple with it. That
strength in her served her now.
“What’s that contraption you’re wearing?” Julius asked when he
joined the others in the salon.
 Chapter 27
 
HAVING JULIUS’ NEW WIFE was trying for Octavia, but she did her best
to rein in her temper. Not successfully, or particularly gracefully, but she did
the best she could. By the look of it, Octavia wasn’t used to reining in her
emotions or expressing her thoughts.
Lord Hennington didn’t budge his schedule one bit. People had to
work around him and put up with it, and Finn did admire the man’s lack of
caring for the foibles of others. Unfortunately, that lack of caring also
extended to Octavia’s struggles, particularly as Cressida felt she needed to
take over the running of the house.
Change was difficult, particularly when one didn’t choose it.
Exactly like he hadn’t chosen this injury. Everything in his life had
changed, and there had been nothing he could do about it. For him, though,
his life would return to the way it had been—hers never would.
“I shall leave tomorrow,” he said to her in the salon after supper.
“Are you well enough to travel?”
“I’m stronger every day.”
She smiled. “Good.”
“We met some truly marvelous people,” Julius said and Octavia’s
attention was drawn away. Finn turned to Julius, too. “We met Frederich
von Zweibrücken.”
“A bona fide prince,” Cressida added.
“Lovely man, who is going to join us in London in a few weeks.”
“Inordinately handsome,” Cressida said. “Loves spending time in
Italy.”
 “Actually, he seems quite keen on travel. So we are to host him.”
“We’ll throw a proper ball in his honor. You’ll all have to come,”
Cressida said excitedly.
“And you’ll be interested, Fortescue,” Julius said. “The man has
some interesting ideas of opportunities in the Far East.”
Finn’s success was based on investing in areas he knew, not wild
speculation, but he would certainly listen. Julius wasn’t a fool that gambled
more than invested, so if he said it was interesting, it probably was. “I look
forward to meeting him.”
“I expect I will return to London shortly as well,” Octavia said.
Something in him wanted to offer that she travel with him, but it
would be inappropriate.
“I have to retire,” he said to her. He could feel his energy finally
running out.
“Yes, of course,” she said, looking concerned. That look of concern
had so annoyed him when she’d first turned up at his house, but he found it
more endearing now. Probably because he had strength again and didn’t feel
he was being pitied. There was something a little thrilling about the fact that
she cared. Granted, she would probably show kindness to anyone who was
so egregiously injured, but it still somehow gratified him that she did care.
Caring was a quality he’d started to notice of late—particularly how
rare it was. Society was filled with politeness and etiquette, but true caring
was more rare than he’d realized. Mostly, he hadn’t cared, having been
perhaps too young to realize how important that quality was.
But his energy really was flagging and he bid the company
goodnight. His room was dark, but the fire kept it warm and he left it dark,
luxuriating in the feeling of taking the brace off. He was getting better at
not using his back when he undressed. Obviously, he could call for help, but
after all the help he’d received of late, it was nice to manage himself.
With a groan of relief, he lay himself down on the bed and closed
his eyes. Perhaps he was pushing himself a little too hard. The truth was
that he wanted to impress Octavia. It may not have been a truth he wanted
to own, but he was too honest with himself to deny it. Too much of his
attention and thoughts revolved around her at the moment. That could be
because between her and her father, she was the prettier one to look at. Was
it simply familiarity that drew his interest? Because any chance to argue
with her and he was happy to take it.
It could also be that she slipped from his mind when he returned to
London. Or even that he was simply grateful to her for caring for him. He
didn’t know. What was true was that she was no longer his enemy in his
mind. Thorny and pushy, yes, she would always be. She may even insult
him to his face exactly as she had before, but he would never see her as an
adversary again.
Sleep claimed him.
*
It was shortly after dawn that he woke. It was going to be a long day
of travel, so he wanted to get as much of it done while he still had energy.
Otherwise, he would spend it here and then feel unwell as he traveled. No,
he needed to leave at the earliest opportunity. None of the family would rise
and he didn’t want to wait. They would understand under the
circumstances.
The maid came to tend the fire. “Could you tell Mr. Tennyson that
I’m preparing to leave?” he asked as the young girl finished her task. She
nodded and curtseyed before quietly leaving the room. “And then they can
have their games room back,” he said to the empty room.
Most of his morning routine was finished by the time Mr. Tennyson
attended him. Finn was half-dressed and Mr. Tennyson helped him put the
brace on. “Your carriage is being prepared,” the man said. “Do you wish to
breakfast before you leave?”
“No, I’ll spend my energy on the travel as much as possible,” he
said. “Could you pass my regards and gratitude onto his lordship, and both
Julius and Octavia? I’m not intending to be rude by leaving so early, but I
must conserve my energy as much as possible.”
“Perfectly understandable. I’ll let them know.”
“Thank you,” Finn said as the last strap of the brace was put in
place. “And hopefully someday soon, I can retire this device of torture.”
“It serves you well to wear it.”
“I am aware, but I’ll tell you that after this, I will never regard a
corset the same.”
“As you say, my lord,” Tennyson said. “Shall I prepare a hamper for
you?”
“That would be much appreciated. And thank you for your
consideration and care.” Yet another person to be grateful to. “It’s been very
kind of you all to put me up. I have never had to be so dependent on
others.” And rarely had he been so free with his thoughts either. 
“A pleasure. If you’re ready, I’ll have your trunk prepared and
carried out to the carriage. It will take but a few moments.”
“Thank you,” Finn said again and got out of the man’s way. The
house was utterly quiet, the only noise being the standing clock in the salon.
It really was a lovely house, and this had been where Octavia had grown up
with her brothers. It wouldn’t have been the softest environment, and she
was a product of that.
Finn opened the main door and stepped outside. It was cold, but it
was a clear day, which would be good for travel. Even in the time he’d been
here, he’d grown so much stronger, recalling having to lie down for most of
the journey here. If it now became too cumbersome, he would do the same,
but he suspected his strength would last for most of it. A good chunk of it,
anyway.
The carriage was driven around and the horses looked strong and
restless. They knew they were heading out to traverse the land, encounter
new smells and sounds. He wondered if they disliked London. He imagined
they would.
It pulled up and footmen came out of the house with his trunk, and
then Octavia, hastily dressed with her hair down. He hadn’t seen her so
informal before.
“You’re leaving,” she said, even as he’d told her yesterday.
“Thought I wouldn’t waste energy waiting to go. Again, thank you
for taking care of me.” There were lines on her face from sleeping, and her
cheeks were red from being warmly snuggled in bed. “You didn’t have to
come see me off.” But he was inordinately touched that she had.
“Heal well,” she said, clearly feeling this moment of awkwardness.
“I suppose I’ll see you at the ball for this marvelous prince.”
“As I was personally invited to meet him, I wouldn’t dream of being
rude and abstaining.”
Her eyes were like jewels when she looked up at him, the cold wind
keeping her cheeks rosy. She smiled. All he wanted was to kiss her right
then, but he couldn’t. Without the brace, it would be a different story. So
instead, he stepped closer and kissed her on the forehead. It had a much
more muted satisfaction, but it was an intimacy. “Thank you,” he said as he
stepped away from her.
She looked embarrassed and surprised. Perhaps he had embarrassed
her—stepped out of bounds, but he didn’t regret it. The taste of her skin
lingered on his lips and her scent so close.
“For the kindness you’ve shown me, I will forever be grateful. I will
never be your enemy, and if you should need something from me to repay
you, you have but to ask.”
“I don’t need to be repaid,” she said.
They stood there and he had to get going, or he would kiss her again
—still unable to reach her lips. At this point, he wasn’t sure a kiss would be
well received. There hadn’t really been a point where a kiss had been
encouraged from her side. The urge came from him, and it came from
gratitude. And now he had kissed her. “Good day,” he finally said and
nodded his head. “Now go, or you will be privy to how inelegantly I can get
into a carriage these days.”
That finally got a smile from her. Perhaps kissing her had been a
step too far. The urge had been there for days, however.
 Chapter 28
 

Lord Fortescue was grateful to her, which was understandable

—and so he should be for everything she’d done for him. He was grateful

because she had seen him at his very worst and had gotten him through it.

The kiss on her forehead had lingered for hours after he’d left.
Although having to deal with Cressida the rest of the day had wiped away
ghostly kisses. Cressida was inordinately excited about the visit from this
Bavarian prince. It would certainly increase her standing in society to be
mingling with continental royalty. It was quite a coup, socially speaking.
“I do hope my gowns will arrive from Paris in time. The pink one
would be perfect,” Cressida said and the carriage swayed. After hours, all
had tired of conversation, but Cressida hated the quiet and would
intermittently strike up conversation. “The blue one would be tolerable, but
the pink would be preferred. What shall you wear, Octavia?”
“Uhm, I have a red silk gown,” Octavia said. It was her absolute
finest, and there was no faulting the material, or the design of it. She hadn’t
worn it for a while.
“I find silk can be an aging material,” Cressida said. “My mother
prefers it much. And red is... forward. I’m not sure it’s at all appropriate.”
Cressida was attempting to undermine her again. It was never overt
in Julius’ company, but it was constant, and Octavia didn’t engage with her.
Cressida’s barbs didn’t hit the mark, and it annoyed the woman to no end.
“Curious that Lord Fortescue should drop in on his way,” Cressida
continued. “Neither your father nor you know him particularly well.”
 “He’s been to the house before, and I think we were near when he
unexpectantly needed rest,” Octavia said. Cressida would definitely try to
use any information against her, Octavia suspected, even as it would hurt
Julius, and to some degree, herself in the process. To Cressida, the victory
might be worth the damage to the name she carried. Which was why
Octavia would be installing herself in Caius’ house the very moment she
arrived in London.
As expected, her situation was becoming untenable. Her home had
been invaded, and she was no longer welcome, or safe. Julius owed loyalty
to his wife, and she was the future Lady Hennington, which was significant
in terms of the family benefit. The truth was that Cressida mattered more in
the family now than she did. It didn’t mean Octavia had to act like it was
true, but as opposed to before, her unmarried status was now more
detrimental to her life.
It was perhaps time to marry. Lord Fortescue came into her mind,
but she dismissed him. He was the last person who’d stolen a kiss from her.
It had been on her forehead, and it had been driven exclusively by gratitude.
He’d just gone through an extremely vulnerable period, and he was grateful
—an instinct she fully understood.
And then there was the promise that he’d do whatever she asked
him to if the need should arrive, which was good, because if he, in any way,
continued to be a threat to her family, she would use that favor and demand
he stop. How he felt about Eliza now, they hadn’t really discussed. In the
past, he’d said he would be there for her if Caius managed to destroy the
marriage again. He was patient and he would wait, but now she had the
power to make him give up on Eliza forever. It stopped him from being a
threat.
 These recent dealings hadn’t simply affected him; he'd been at her
mercy, completely vulnerable, and it had brought out a protective quality in
her. There was no point in not acknowledging it. But that time was over
now, and their parting had punctuated the change. He had left and had
gotten to the point where he didn’t need their assistance anymore.
After resting her eyes for a moment, they reached the inn where they
would dine before continuing, and it was a mercy to stretch her legs and
back—and to be away from her companions for a few moments. They dined
and Cressida chatted about new dishes she felt the Denham cooks should
learn, and then about the food they should provide at the ball. Only the best
ingredients would do. They had to make a good impression on the prince, of
course.
Octavia had never been so utterly grateful when she was dropped off
at Caius’ house. Cressida hadn’t seen why it was necessary to do the detour,
when it was better that Octavia rest for the night and then make her way to
Caius’ in the morning. What Cressida didn’t know was that Octavia had
given her brother the suggestion there would be serious pain involved if he
didn’t do as she wished, so he weighed up the worse of two evils and
ignored his wife’s recommendation.
*
“You look lovely,” Eliza said as they regarded Octavia in the mirror.
“That is a spectacular gown.”
Yes, it was a spectacular gown, one that she didn’t wear too often in
order to make it more so. Gowns became less spectacular when one became
known for wearing them.
“You look lovely yourself,” Cressida said.
 “Well, my gowns are getting a little tight around the middle,” Eliza
admitted and stroked her belly. The worst of the illness seemed to have
passed, which was a mercy, because witnessing it was distressing.
Experiencing it had to be worse, to the point where Octavia had wondered
if she ever wanted to get married at all.
“It’s time,” Caius said, appearing at the door, looking dapper in his
dark attire. As always, his eyes rested on his wife, and Octavia was glad to
see it. Lord Fortescue would gain no purchase there. Caius and Eliza were
as in love as they ever had been.
“Right, let’s go,” Octavia suggested. There was a nervousness in her
ahead of the evening, both because she knew this was so important for her
brother, and also, she would see Fortescue for the first time in three weeks.
A whole week of it she’d had to spend in Cressida’s company as their travel
to London was put off twice, and the other two, she’d had no reason to go
see him. She had missed him, though. There wasn’t even a hint of
contentiousness in her relationship with Eliza and Caius. They were just so
happy it wouldn’t even occur to them. And Julius was out of reach because
of Cressida, which meant Octavia hadn’t had a single person to argue with.
Arguing with Cressida was pointless and anything but amusing.
The carriage ride was short and the queue to be received was long.
This was definitely going to be the event of the season, and it was
something to be proud of.
Her brother and Cressida received guests, along with Lydia. Julius
was happy to see them, his wife was less so, and her sister was indifferent.
“Has his majesty arrived yet?” Caius asked.
“Not yet, but I believe he is to arrive shortly. Go be lovely to our
guests,” Julius said. “Particularly you,” he said, pointing at Octavia. “And I
will not forgive you if you are not utterly charming to Prince von
Zweibrücken. I know full well you can charm the tail of a donkey if you
wish to, and I order you to charm the man.”
“Fine,” Octavia said with a roll of her wrists. “I will charm the
man.”
“We should introduce him to Lydia,” Cressida said pointedly. It
seemed the Forthill sisters had upped their ambition. Lord Fortescue was no
longer their priority. He would no doubt be crushed by this revelation.
While Julius assured his wife, Octavia took a moment to look into the
ballroom and the gathered notables. It was certainly well attended. She saw
known faces, but she didn’t see Fortescue. Had he not turned up as he’d
said he would? Rude.
“Now go, we have people to receive,” Julius urged and they walked
into the ballroom.
“Octavia, the sweetest of sweet,” James Fervoy said, looking as
dashing as always. Funnily, he didn’t show his disregard for Eliza in the
least bit. The hypocrisy of the man was nauseating.
“James,” she said, utterly devoid of enthusiasm. His jovial smile
faltered a fraction. With some men, it took a few times for them to
understand that they were no longer in favor. “You know,” she said,
stepping closer, “I heard Lydia Forthill mention to her sister how handsome
you looked tonight.”
He watched her for a moment with the blatant redirection of his
interest. While he was mean as a viper underneath that beautiful face, he
wasn’t stupid. “Oh really?” he said, and looked back in the direction of the
main hall. Redirection accepted and completed. “She is inordinately pretty.
Quite possibly the prettiest girl here.” And a parting shot. Octavia smiled.
Goodbye. Hopefully he would make a pest of himself.
With him gone, she spotted Fortescue along one of the walls,
chatting with a couple of men. Her attention brought his and he looked her
way. When he saw her, he raised his glass in salute. By the look of him, he
was no longer wearing his brace, nor was his stance stiff and awkward. He
seemed back to normal.
As she watched, he excused himself and came over to her. “Miss
Octavia,” he said. “You look stunning tonight.”
“Thank you.” And yes, she did look stunning in that gown. “You
look very relaxed comparatively. You no longer use the brace.”
“No, I can forego it now.”
“Back to normal, then?”
“Not quite. I’m still foregoing the riding.”
That was understandable, she supposed.
“Have you a dance card yet?”
“Do you wish to put your name on it?” she asked with surprise.
“I shall.”
Octavia didn’t quite know how to respond. “Then I will reserve a
dance for you. The quadrille perhaps?”
“If you wish.”
“I look forward to it.” How was it that this felt so very awkward? It
wasn‘t as if it was the first time they’d danced together. It was, however, the
first time they would dance together after there was gratitude involved in
their relationship. It changed things quite significantly. Exactly how, she
wasn’t sure. With a nod, he moved away.
 Octavia moved away too, and found one of her friends she hadn’t
seen in a long time, Sarah Middlemarch. “How are you? That you should be
gone from London so long this season. You missed a large portion of it.”
“Well, Julius’ marriage has meant quite a lot to our family. It’s been
his year, really.”
“I understand,” Sarah said and smiled. “It can be... Oh, my. Is that
him, do you think?”
Octavia turned to see a young man in white military uniform with
gold accents. Much younger than she’d expected, and golden. It was the
best way to describe him. Cressida hadn’t been wrong when she’d said he
was handsome. He was extraordinarily so. Both Julius and Cressida walked
into the ballroom next to him. Anyone arriving after the prince did not get
any consideration.
The man was introduced and they made their way around the room
that was largely silent and watching as the guest of honor made his way
around. Sarah blushed deeply as he came closer.
“And this is my sister, Octavia,” Julius said.
The prince had green eyes and they sparkled as he took her gloved
hand and kissed it. Octavia curtsied. “I’ve heard a great deal about you from
your brother,” the man said, and now it was Octavia’s turn to blush. Julius
had been talking about her. “As beautiful as you have been described.”
“You are very kind, but not entirely truthful, I suspect. My brother
would never call me beautiful.”
“Brothers can fail to see,” he said. His smile was like the sun
coming out.
“Brothers do inevitably have failings,” she replied with her own
smile. Octavia decided she liked him. There was humor in him, and
intelligence. And he wasn’t entirely shocked by her disagreeing with
something he uttered. That did say something about the man. “Welcome to
our home,” she said.
“Octavia actually lives with Julius’ brother, Caius,” Cressida
pointed out as if that was at all relevant.
"Have you been to England before?” Octavia asked, after the inane
statement from Cressida.
“I have, but not recently.”
“You love all things Italian, like my brother, I understand.” Yes, she
had heard endless details about this handsome German royal in the week
she’d to spend with Cressida.
“How can one not? Especially the women,” he said with a tiny
wink. “But then one has always heard of the unfailing beauty of the English
rose.” Was he flirting with her? “Your brother promised me I would not be
disappointed if I came to London. The English are, of course, known for
their wit. Will you dance with me this evening?”
“If you wish,” she said, to the somewhat unexpected question.
“Good, until then,” he said and bowed quickly before moving on.
“I think he likes you,” Sarah said when he was out of earshot.
“Royals are masters at being charming,” Octavia said, but she had to
admit, he had been that perfect balance of wit and charm, and a dash of
naughtiness. Far more interesting than she’d expected.
“He really is how you expect a prince to look.”
 Chapter 29
 
“THE HENDERSON MINE ISN’T faring well from what I’m hearing,”
Lord Germorach said, but Finn was only half paying attention. Octavia was
dancing with the prince, and just about everyone in the room was watching.
Her smile was genuine. She enjoyed the man’s attention, or company. It
would be a lie to say there wasn’t a spear of jealousy, as he liked being the
one she smiled at.
Earlier, he’d had the barest introduction to the prince as he’d made
his way around the room with Julius. Cordial enough by all accounts. All
the same, he didn’t like Octavia dancing with him. But instead of standing
there glowering like a jilted lover, he tried to pay attention to the
conversation. “Yes, no, change is inevitable. Some mining operations fail.
Others take their business. Anyone who says it isn’t a brutal business is
unaware of the facts.”
“A lot of people will lose money.”
“And that is why I invest in infrastructure, not mining.” Granted, his
businesses would take a knock for a while, but they would recover.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Octavia’s dance with the
prince was finishing, a sense of relief washed over him. “Excuse me,” he
said and walked away. “I have a dance I must claim.”
The look on Germorach’s face suggested he couldn’t understand
why anyone would be eager to claim a dance over picking through the
destruction of investments. Maybe he had a point, or maybe he should be
pitied, Finn didn’t know what the truth was there.
 “Miss Hennington,” he said with a quick bow when he reached her.
“Are you available for another spin around the dance floor?”
“Of course,” she said. “Is it the quadrille already?”
“I’m not sure,” he said as he led her. “It will be a surprise.”
“I’m not usually a fan of surprises, but I’ll make an exception this
time.”
“How can one not be a fan of surprises? All the best things are
surprises.”
“They are not. Birthdays aren’t surprises. Christmas isn’t a surprise.
Neither are weddings.”
“Yes, but I still cannot entirely agree. They are nice and comforting,
but it takes something entirely unexpected to be delightful.”
“Like the earth opening and trying to swallow one up?” she asked
with a pointed look.
“Or finding a friendship where one least expected one.”
“Are you suggesting we are friends?”
“Sadly, I believe you might be one of my best friends at the
moment.”
“That is a sorry state indeed, because we do not like each other in
the least.”
“Well, I think there has been a change in that category. You do not
like me, but I have had to change my opinion about you.”
“That is gratitude speaking.”
“Yes, perhaps, but then that element of surprise comes in, and I
found I was quite jealous when you danced with that man.”
“That is entirely unreasonable.”
 “The crux of the surprise.”
Throughout this exchange, he was watching her as they took their
places. Carnarvon's Jig, it turned out.
“Well, you will be pleased to know that I am under strict orders to
be charming to the princely von Zweibrücken. Julius is trying inordinately
hard to impress him, and as a result, I only insulted him half as much as I
normally would.”
“I’m sure the man was utterly delighted.” Sadly, the man had looked
like he’d been delighted.
“Do you not like him?” That teasing look was back in his eyes.
“I have no emotion to him at all. But I do think you should be
careful. Men like him do sometimes feel entitled to the things they want.”
“I suspect you are greatly exaggerating my charms.”
“You are perfectly able to charm anyone you set your intention on.”
“Have I charmed you?”
“Have you tried?”
“Of course not,” she said defensively. “And rest assured, I bend to
no man’s sense of entitlement.”
“Good,” he found himself saying. The truth was that he had no
claim or influence on her whatsoever. “Speaking as a friend.”
“I am all curious what a friendship with the aloof Lord Fortescue
entails.”
What did it entail? It wasn't something he could readily answer,
because he didn’t know. “Loyalty, perhaps.”
Every touch of her hand to his he felt. That sensation wasn’t
friendship—it was something more profound. If he grabbed her and kissed
her right here, he would cause such a scandal, which was exactly what he
wanted to do. It may even result in him gaining her, but it would spur Julius
to defend her honor, and she would be angry with him, probably for the rest
of his life. An uncouth desire in him urged him to do it, a sense of
entitlement exactly like the one he’d just warned her of. Not to mention it
would be a notorious action that would follow both of them for the rest of
their lives.
But then he’d just stated he was her friend, and a friend would never
do such a thing as to take her choices away from her.
Perhaps it was time he acknowledge something he hadn’t fully
voiced yet. He was in love with Octavia Hennington. He sought to rile her,
to goad her, to listen to her and to soothe her, all at the same time. His
thoughts were on her incessantly, and all the things about her that he’d
found so deeply annoying had started to charm him. Particularly her
abrasiveness—largely because there were no falsities there. She expressed
what she felt—probably too readily.
The steps were coming to a conclusion. This dance was finishing
much too fast. And then it was over. That had to be the only time when he
hadn’t wished a dance would end, but now he had to lead her back—return
her to where he’d found her.
As he stopped he drew her in a little too close, simply enjoying her
nearness and scent. “As to what we just discussed,” he said quietly so only
she could hear. She was so very close, but he could not touch her. “Yes, I
have been charmed by you.”
He wasn’t sure there was any way he could be plainer. But he had
been inappropriate too long and he stepped away from her. Her eyes were
on the floor, which was unusual for her. Perhaps she didn’t agree with his
sentiment. It was so hard to tell when he couldn’t look her in the eyes.
Normally he could tell exactly what she was feeling, but she was shielding
her thought from him.
Feeling deeply uneasy, he walked away. He had to. Propriety
required it. Perhaps she did too. But his heart beat heavily and a sense of
dread washed over him. It was that dread when something, or rather
someone, became very meaningful to him. Because caring for someone
made it excruciating when you lost them, and it was all he’d ever known.
This wasn’t something he’d chosen. With Eliza, he’d chosen it. He'd
considered her and determined she was an excellent woman. But with
Octavia, this had taken him by surprise. No choice had been given, and now
his hands shook and he extended his fingers repeatedly to dissipate this
unease.
He didn’t know what to do with himself, so he took himself off to
the card tables, because he needed something a bit stiffer than fine French
champagne.
“A whiskey,” he said to the man serving the table and sat down at a
spare seat.
“Are you in, Fortescue?” a man asked and Finn nodded absently.
Taking a deep breath, he sat back. It wasn’t every day he informed a woman
he intended on courting her, but it was done now. Never had he been this
nervous about it. What was that a sign of? It certainly wasn’t a sign of
second thought, because he had none. He wanted her. And yes, it was a
surprise, but so was how strongly he wanted her.
“Are you having a good evening?” the man asked. Finn vaguely
recognized him.
 “It is an excellent night.” A night that potentially established his
entire future. Obviously, someone like Octavia wasn’t going to fall at his
feet in gratitude. She liked to be charmed herself, flirted with, adored and
cherished, and he would do all those things. Provided she would simply
agree that he was someone whose attention she accepted. Dealing with her
wasn’t easy. At the heart, it wasn’t wealth and social standing she sought,
but something else entirely. It required integrity and honesty. A façade
wasn’t going to impress her. Her discourse was on a much deeper level.
People mistook that for her simply not grasping the finer points of etiquette.
Those people didn’t understand her at all.
 Chapter 30
 
OCTAVIA PACED. THE PREVIOUS evening had left her uneasy on
multiple fronts. The prince was much more interesting than she’d expected.
And then there was Fortescue, who’d left her even more unnerved. Was the
man jesting in all this? Was this some new battlefield they had found? It
was certainly one she’d skirted around a few times.
“Please stop pacing,” Eliza said. Even having left early in the
evening, Eliza was still exhausted today. She sat with a blanket over her
knees. Too tired to do much, but unable to sleep further. It was a tiredness
that needed rest and calm rather than sleep.
“I’m sorry,” Octavia said and sat down, even as she felt too anxious
to sit.
“Did someone say something to you? Has Cressida been awful?”
“No, nothing like that. Well, she tried, but her antics don’t bother me
a bit.”
“Was that prince terrible? I saw you dancing with him.”
“No, he was lovely. I actually enjoyed his company.”
“Good, because I think we’re dining with him tonight. So what is it?
You’ll feel unburdened if you just spit it out.”
Octavia sighed. “It’s Fortescue.”
“Have you two been fighting again?”
“No,” she said, feeling frustrated. Eliza didn’t understand. “I think
he likes me.”
 Eliza was quiet for a moment. “He is a lovely man. It would be a
good match.” See, she didn’t understand.
“He doesn’t like me.”
“But you just said he did. Did he say so?”
“Yes,” Octavia admitted. ‘Charmed’ was the word he’d used. She’d
charmed him. The meaning of his words and how they’d been given was
hard to misconstrue. He liked her—enough to state it to her. And all Eliza
saw was marriage—that it should be a given.
“But you do not like him?” Eliza pressed.
“It’s not an issue of liking him. But yes, I want to punch him in the
face most of the time. It’s more... His attachment comes from gratitude. I
know it. He’d said so himself. And now, that gratitude has caused him to
have soft feelings.”
“I see,” Eliza said. “I understand.”
“Do you?”
“It was something I had to grapple with myself when he showed
interest in me. Was I simply grateful that he didn’t dismiss me outright like
everyone else had?”
Guilt roared through Octavia again, because she had been one of the
people who’d utterly dismissed Eliza as a consequence of those false
accusations, and it was a guilt she still lived with. In fact, she’d had cause to
question many things about herself as a consequence.
“I took care of him when he had no one do to so, and now he feels
fondness. It’s natural, but it’s not enough. How much is gratitude worth?”
“It’s not enough to base a marriage on,” Eliza admitted, reflecting
exactly what Octavia felt.
 “No,” she said. So why was she so terribly uneasy about all this? He
certainly wasn’t the only man she’d left behind her who’d professed his
deep regard for her. She left and she didn’t look back, and that was what she
had to do this time too.
“Do you like him a little in return?”
“No, of course not. He’s a horrid man,” she said, but smiled. “I do
like it when we are friends. But I know he’s a man who is alone and I was
there for him when he was vulnerable. It’s left a loyalty on his part.”
“When he gives his loyalty, he does so fully, I think.” And he had
given that loyalty to Eliza.
“Sometimes I wonder if the world would be a simpler place if he
would just marry Lydia Forthill.”
“I don’t think it would be a match to suit him.”
Octavia’s head ached and she didn’t want to think about what kind
of matches would suit him. “The society matrons will find him something
suitable, I’m sure.”
“Lord Fortescue is not a child. He’s a grown man. His suitabilities
are not for you to worry about,” Eliza said with finality, and perhaps that
was what Octavia needed to hear. She wasn’t responsible for him. Stepping
away from him was in both of their best interests.
Fortunately, in light of this, they couldn’t be friends. The man’s
loyalties kept him locked, and if she continued to be around him, his
interest would stay locked. His history showed he stayed loyal until there
was absolutely no hope—so she couldn’t give him any.
But even thinking this hurt. That bond formed due to his injury sat
with her too, that anguish when he hurt. Caring for him had created a link
between them that didn’t now serve either of them. It certainly wasn’t a
bond that was enough for marriage. She knew it would go there if she let it.
Fortescue would take his loyalty as far as it would go. Such loyalty was...
dangerous.
Eliza was right, however, she did feel better after voicing her
concerns. Now she needed to stop thinking about it. Sitting here and
dwelling on it wouldn’t help. “Would you like me to get you some more of
that tea from Fortnum and Mason?” she asked.
“Yes, please,” Eliza said. “I would ask Caius, but I can’t trust what
he comes back with, I’m sorry to say.”
“Caius is a strategist. The finer details can be lost for him,” Octavia
said. A trait she had learnt when she’d asked him to retrieve a kitten for her
from the neighbor's litter. She’d described exactly the one she’d wanted,
and Caius had returned with another, then stated it was a cat and that was
what she’d wanted. Then she’d had to go through all the trouble of
correcting his mistake, and had, in the end, come away with two cats.
*
It was both with delight and trepidation that Octavia walked into the
family townhouse with Caius and Eliza. She had no idea who’d been
invited, but suspected it wasn’t an intimate family supper with the prince.
At no point had she been included in the planning, which was perfectly fine.
It wasn’t as if she’d performed that role perfectly for years, but Cressida
saw it as her job now.
Obviously, she was delighted to be free of such duties, duly installed
as a companion to Eliza now. It wasn’t a role she resented by any degree,
but having one’s life reduced to the sole purpose of having tea with
someone felt a little... undermining.
 “Eliza.” Cressida came forward with both arms outstretched as if
she was greeting her long-lost sister. Further into the salon, Octavia spotted
Lydia as well, intently listening to whatever the prince was telling her. And
she was actually batting her eyelids. “It’s so marvelous you could make it.
Such strength, in your state. I hope you are faring well. We have a
delightful evening planned, but if you should need to lie down for a
moment, just let me know. Octavia,” she greeted in a sharper tone.
Smiling tightly, Octavia considered how bored she was of Cressida’s
antics. At some point, surely, the woman had to realize that her disapproval
simply didn’t mean anything. “Cressida, marvelous to see you,” Octavia
said and wandered off to where Julius was standing. He acknowledged her
with a nod as she approached.
“Don’t let them monopolize him all evening, will you?” she said,
looking over at the prince. “I doubt he wishes to be subject to their ambition
all night.”
“Be kind. By extension they are both your sisters now,” Julius said
teasingly.
“Did you invite Lord Fortescue?”
“No, should I have?”
Octavia wasn’t sure if she was relieved or not. It felt a little like
relief. “No, I just noticed that you and he have become chummy.”
“Are you still going on about his designs on Eliza?”
It seemed her intention of keeping her nursing activities quiet had
been remarkably successful. Her father hadn’t said a word. Curious. “One
can never be too careful,” she said with a put-on smile.
“Well, you will be pleased. I have insisted the prince sit opposite
you for supper. It was quite a fight. Lydia will sit next to him, but please do
try to entertain him. I suspect Lydia’s sole impression is how pretty she
looks, and that is only entertaining for so long.”
“I’m surprised you trust me with the task.”
“Well, he actually complimented you after your dance, so I gathered
it was safe. The family depends on you. And if you should perhaps charm
him to the point where he falls in love with you and offers to make you a
princess, then, by all means, help the family by doing so.”
“You’re as bad as Cressida.”
“Except I want you to win.”
“I am not going to marry to please you.”
“Then please do it to thwart Cressida.” He was teasing her, but
equally, he could be delighted beyond words if she married royalty. It would
be quite the boon for the family. Unfortunately, she wasn’t prepared to be
sold off like a cart-horse for gain. It simply wasn’t going to happen.
“Maybe you should be careful or she’ll run off with him. He is ever
so charming. She might throw you over.”
“Charlatan.” Julius rebuked her tease with a tsk. “Go mingle, and be
nice.”
“I’m always nice,” she said with a pointed look. Some of the
prominent notables of the city were there—Julius’ friends. He liked to have
important friends. Sir Thomas Berhard, Mr. Quentin Dammerley and
August Sloane. They were all about Julius’ age, which was probably a good
decision on his part, instead of dragging out the aged dukes who would bore
the prince to death. If she were a prince, she wouldn’t like those people
thrust on her at every opportunity.
“Miss Hennington,” Mr. Dammerley said, a man who would one
day be one of those aged, venerated dukes. “Such a delight to see you. You
are looking lovely as always.”
“Thank you kindly. How are you this evening? Is your wife not
here?” Not so long ago, they had all been young bachelors together in the
city, but the whole group was changing. Wives and children were on the
agenda for all of them.
“No, she is a little tired at the moment.”
“My deepest congratulations on the birth of your son.”
“Thank you,” he said, beaming. Being a father obviously delighted
him. It was strange seeing him so, but she’d seen him a drunken mess more
than once, stumbling home with Julius after some raucous night.
“And no one has managed to pin you and your fortune down yet?”
he asked. Quentin had always had a bit of affection for her, but it had never
been returned. She simply couldn’t see him in that light. It would be like
marrying a brother. Not quite a brother, but maybe a brotherly cousin.
“As of yet, no one has lived up to my impeccably high standards.”
“Well, we have a prince in our presence,” he said, as if it had gone
unnoticed. “Incredibly handsome, I’m told. You would positively rule
London if you married him. No doubt, his wife would be invited to teas
with the queen on a fairly regular basis.”
“If I have ambition of drinking tea with queens, that would perhaps
be tempting.”
“Not even a prince meets your standards. You will have to be careful
or no one will.”
The perception that she was still unmarried because of high
standards was perhaps something people misunderstood. “My standards are
actually quite mundane. I wish to marry someone I remotely care about. It’s
that simple.”
 “And it should be that simple,” an unfamiliar voice said. The prince.
“I think you have the right theory.”
“A good approach,” Quentin said. “If you weren’t such an ice
queen.”
Octavia slapped him on the arm. “Don’t listen to him,” she said
conspiratorially to the prince. “I’m only icy with ridiculous men. And
unfortunately, London is rife with them.”
“So you do not recommend this city, Miss Hennington?”
“Only if you wish to marry.”
The statement made him laugh, but she wasn’t entirely sure why.
And Julius would probably not be happy with her for denigrating the whole
city. “Unfortunately, things are not better on the continent.”
“Well, that is disappointing to hear,” she said.
“You believe no marriage is better than a bad one?” he asked.
“Of course. We get one chance to marry. People should give some
consideration to who they wish to spend the rest of their lives with. I would
think that would be fundamental to a happy life.”
“But you require a man who is beautiful, wealthy and gallant.
Stylish and with pristine character. An impossible standard,” Quentin
stated.
“Quentin, you have spent too much time considering my
requirements in men.” The statement embarrassed him and she hadn’t
intended on it. “I know you have my best interests at heart, but believe me,
my standards would lower considerably if it was the right man.”
“Really, which of your standards would you lower?” the prince said.
 “Can I say how happy I am that this is our topic of conversation,”
she mentioned. “And yes, likely all of them.”
“Even pristine character?” he asked, and she noted that he had
actually remembered each of the things Quentin had accused her of caring
about.
“If the intentions were right.” After all, Caius could be accused of
having been less than honorable, leaving his wife based on a wrongful
accusation, but she knew the hurt that had driven him to react so.
“A criminal?” the prince asked.
“Are you taking this as a challenge on how base a man I would
consider?”
“Some crimes are justified, are they not?”
“In very rare circumstances. Intelligent men find ways around
resorting to criminality.”
“Very true,” he said. Surprisingly, he seemed to enjoy this
discussion. Julius would likely be mortified. “You are not saying very
flattering things about your countrymen if you cannot find one to marry
with such low standards.”
“No, you are extrapolating wildly from this conversation.”
“But even with your supposed low standards, you cannot find a
husband.”
“And for the record, the crux of the conversation was finding the
right husband, not simply a husband.”
“Well, it would please us all if dear Octavia could manage,”
Cressida said, attempting her most regal stance. “And as much as I dread
stealing you away from listening to all of Miss Hennington’s woes, supper
is about to be served. Would you do me the honor of taking me in?”
“Of course,” he said, not that Cressida had given him a choice. The
blatant dismissal burned, but Octavia closed her eyes and reasserted that
nothing Cressida did bothered her—even if inescapably insulting. On the
other hand, no doubt to Cressida’s chagrin, Octavia’s seat was opposite the
prince.
Lydia was already seated next to him and talking about how fine the
horses her family bred. They regularly won awards, apparently. The prince
seemed to listen intently. “And do you like horses, Miss Hennington?”
“No, beastly creatures. I can’t abide them.” It wasn’t actually true.
While she had no real affinity for horses, she didn’t think them beastly. But
she certainly wouldn’t breed them for sport.
“Do you wish your carriage was drawn by swans, do you?” Lydia
said with a light, tinkling laugh. It sounded quite angelic, along with her
blond hair and pretty face.
“Or are you a proponent of steam?” the prince asked.
“Steam is the gateway to the future,” Octavia replied. Lord
Fortescue certainly thought so. It might have been him who’d said so. She
couldn’t recall.
“And we will not lose something by iron crisscrossing the land?” he
asked. Obviously, there was a contingent of the population who objected to
the impact on the aesthetics of the countryside with all the rail being
deployed. And that all sorts of people would be traveling through their
districts.
“If it will replace long carriage rides, it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to
make,” Octavia countered.
 “But as an unmarried woman, you don’t actually have any land,”
Lydia said. Was that outright hatred Octavia saw in her eyes?
“I do, actually,” Octavia said. It was a portion of land that she’d
inherited from her mother, a portion that stayed with the female line of the
family—a stipulation made generations back resulting from a bad marriage.
It was an eminently sensible precaution, in her mind.
Her rebuttal didn’t please Lydia at all. Octavia now wondered if the
Forthill sisters intensely disliked her, or whether it was simply that the
prince was speaking to her? She smiled at the prince. “There are no horses
on my land presently.”
The prince smiled back. A nice smile, too.
 Chapter 31
 
NEVER IN HIS LIFE HAD Finn read the society pages, but they now had
some value. His pride forbade him from rushing to the society tattle like
some eager debutant, but he sought news of Olivia. That prince being in
town was quite the celebrated event at the moment, and the society
reporters dissected the man’s every step. And beside him seemed to be
either Julius Hennington, or Octavia. Suddenly, she was a noted beauty.
Obviously, she was a beauty, but there were many in society that grudgingly
admitted it.
It felt so strange that they had no real relationship after they’d been
so constantly together. There was nowhere he fit into her life now that he
was largely healed. The rules of society now kept them completely
separated, with only a few means of seeing her. Either at the events she
attended, or he could call on her—which would mean seeking an audience
at Caius Hennington’s house. The man may not be all that excited about
him coming calling. But then he wouldn’t know if he was denied entry until
he actually tried, so that is what he would do.
Calling on women wasn’t something he’d done to any significant
degree. Eliza had been the last woman he’d called on. But he felt driven to.
From being there every day, Octavia was moving further and further away,
and he was feeling the distance, and her absence. There was a stark
emptiness that he hadn’t experience before. It hadn’t even been there when
he’d been interested in Eliza. At no point had he known Eliza like he did
Octavia.
This afternoon, he would go. They would either receive him, or they
wouldn’t. Alternatively, he could write a letter, but he wasn’t a natural letter
writer. His writing was curt and business-like. Although he didn’t think
Octavia would be offended, it simply wasn’t as much fun as talking to her
—teasing her.
In fact, he was having trouble focusing on the letters he had received
from his agents. At first glance, there was nothing devastating, hence they
struggled to keep his attention. Something about this business with Octavia
felt very important.
Time seemed to pass very slowly until it was time to go to see her. A
level of excitement warmed his blood. It had been a few days since he’d
seen her.
Feeling restless, he decided to walk. It wasn’t far, but it would divert
him for a while, and maybe he would drop in to one of the coffee houses on
the way.
It was cold when he left the house, but it wasn’t raining. Winter was
starting to set in. It generally meant there were fewer people on the streets.
How was it that he had never truly been this bored and restless before? It
felt as if there was no purpose to anything if it didn’t have to do with her.
Remedying it was fairly simple. Well, it was simple if she agreed,
and that was where the crux was. They could have a life together, but she
had to agree with it. Octavia could not be coerced or unduly impressed. He
wouldn’t be the first who’d wished to woo her. Many had tried before him,
but none had succeeded.
The vision of a life together was very attractive, where they were
together and discussed things, argued about things that didn’t matter, even
started a family. It felt as if it would be a life where he would be part of a
pair. There were marriages like that, where the relationship between them
was the center of their worlds. There were plenty of marriages that weren’t
like that—marriages that had loyalty but no affection. Not to mention the
ones that didn’t even have either.
There was the chance that he could have a marriage that consumed
him in every way. The thought was delightful. It had been something he’d
known he wanted, but he hadn’t been able to articulate it. Excitement
coursed through him. Octavia knew of his affection. Now he simply had to
woo her.
A quick coffee on the way, gave him a moment to pause and bolster
his resolve. It was a nice day, actually, and he wished he was there with her,
experiencing this day with her. All he had to do was make it happen. It was
within reach.
Caius Hennington, Lord Warwick’s, house was nice. In the middle
of a row, facing a calm square. He knocked and was given entrance by the
roughest looking butler he’d ever seen. The man didn’t even have all his
limbs. It was perhaps something they had in common, staying loyal to less
than ideal butlers.
“I wish to call on Miss Hennington,” he stated to the man.
“She’s in the drawing-room,” the man said. “If you will follow me, I
will announce you.”
The house was well appointed. It looked as though it had been in the
family for a while. Recently purchased houses didn’t have the same feeling
of constancy, as if the house and the inhabitants were trying to settle with
each other.
The room he was led to was bright, white and yellow, Octavia
sitting next to Eliza on the main sofa. A table with a tea service in front of
them.
 “Lord Fortescue,” Octavia said with surprise as he walked in. She
looked lovely. Beautiful.
“Miss Hennington,” he said with a bow of his head. “Lady
Warwick.”
Eliza looked lovely too, a little more round in the face, but it suited
her. But his attention drew to his left where someone else was. A man. Finn
looked over to see the German prince, who stood and stepped over. “I don’t
think we’ve been introduced,” the man said. “Frederich von Zweibrücken.”
It said something about the man that he didn’t use his title to
bludgeon people with, but he clearly didn’t recall that they’d been
introduced. Finn wasn’t offended. The man must have been introduced to
hundreds of people in his time here.
“Finley Fortescue,” Finn said, returning the greeting. “Pleased to see
you.”
“It seems you are popular this morning,” the prince said, taking his
seat again.
“Frederich was just telling her about Bavaria,” Octavia said.
Frederich? They were on a first-name basis. “It sounds like a marvelous
place.”
“Would you like some tea, Lord Fortescue?” Eliza asked.
“Uhm,” he started, feeling nothing but unease. “Perhaps in a
moment.” There was an empty seat and he took it when the others seated
themselves. Right then, he didn’t know what he felt. There was a riot of
unease, and not because he was joining into a conversation that had gone on
before his arrival.
It hadn’t occurred to him that he wouldn’t be the only one here.
 “We have strong horses. The Rottalers,” that man said.
“Warmblooded horses. I’ve never had anything else.”
“I’m not familiar with the breed,” Octavia said. Her smile was
genuine and she was curious, even as she wasn’t interested in horses. Which
likely meant that she liked the prince.
“Do you breed horses, Lord Fortescue?” Octavia asked, trying to
draw him into the conversation. It was too polite for their normal banter, but
that type of banter wasn’t normal for them anymore.
“Not generally, no,” he said. “Our equestrian activities are very
standard.”
“But I do recall you saying you lost your horse recently, didn’t
you?” Octavia said. “Have you had a chance to replace it?”
“I haven’t as of yet.” Obviously there were the carriage horses, but
he hadn’t yet replaced his personal one, the one he rode. It was something
he knew he needed to do, but perhaps he hadn’t rushed out to do so. Maybe
he still felt guilty about the demise of his horse, even as he’d had no control
over what had happened. He’d had no say, just like he had no say in this
prince’s interest in Octavia.
Coming to call on a woman and another coming at the same time
had happened to him before. And he had lost. In his gut, he knew he’d lose
this time too. The prince wasn’t here because Octavia had shown no interest
in him. She was interested—this prince was the one she’d turned her
attention to.
“Admittedly, Julius loves horses,” Octavia said, her attention back
on the prince. “He and my father have been breeding them for quite a while.
They produce some beautiful horses. Although I cannot say if they are at
the moment. I’m not much of a rider myself.”
 “There is nothing better than to ride out early on a summer’s
morning, when the dew is still on the grass,” the prince said wistfully.
“There is beautiful nature where I live.”
Finn felt ill. This man was spouting the charms of his home to
Octavia, and he would only be doing that because he was trying to tempt
her with it. Nausea rolled in his stomach.
“Sorry, did you say you wanted some tea?” Eliza asked gently. “I
have the memory of a sieve just at the moment.”
“No, thank you, but I only called in to say hello.” Finn stood. “I…”
he said, not quite knowing how he could politely excuse himself, but he
would rather juggle hot pokers than sit here and listen to this. “I was only
passing by. Lady Warwick,” he said with a nod. “Miss Hennington. It’s
been a pleasure to see you, but I won’t stay.”
With a nod to the prince, he left the salon and made his way to the
main hallway, where he waited for the one-armed butler to get his coat.
“Lord Fortescue,” Octavia said, appearing in the hallway. She
looked lost and confused for a moment. Actually, she looked as if she was
sorry to disappoint someone—which was exactly what was happening here.
“Miss Hennington,” he said.
“You don’t have to leave.”
“I think it’s better that I do.”
It looked as though there was something else she wanted to say.
What he wanted to hear her say was that she had absolutely no interest in
the prince, but he’d known by looking at her that she was interested. She
was considering him as a potential husband. Had she never asked that about
him? Had she never considered it? It seemed not, and now he felt stupid.
 “I hope all goes well,” he said with a tight smile, and gratefully
accepted his coat and hat from the butler.
“Lord Fortescue,” she said again as if to argue, but it only iterated
that she was on first-name basis with this prince, while they had never been.
All these things he’d read into their relationship that hadn’t been there. “I’m
pleased you are looking so well.”
Finn smiled bitterly. His injury had been what it had all been about.
Without it, her interest in him had dissipated. “I improve by leaps and
bounds every day. Good day,” he said, tipping his hat to her.
“I’m glad you came to call,” she said as he stepped out of the door.
He paused to look at her for a moment. “Why?”
The question stumped her, and it only reinforced how wrong he’d
been. There was a prince in her sights, and he couldn’t possibly compete
with that. The worst was that he knew her well enough that it wasn’t the
man’s title and prospects that drew her. She wouldn’t be interested in him if
he wasn’t sufficiently personable to her. She liked him.
“I wish you the best,” he said with a quick smile, then turned to
leave. It felt a little as though the space was closing in on him and he
needed room to breathe. How wrong he’d been. He’d read into things that
weren’t there—because he’d wanted to. For a while, he’d been the center of
her life, and he’d felt very comfortable there, but it had never been real.
 
 Chapter 32
 
THE REST OF THE PRINCE’S visit felt uncomfortable. It wasn’t him—he
was just as witty and charming as before, but her insides were in knots.
Fortescue was disappointed with her, and that wasn’t necessarily a bad
thing. He wasn’t the first to be disappointed in her—men usually were
when she didn’t do what they wanted. Not that Fortescue had particularly
wanted her to do anything. In fact, she wasn’t specifically sure what he was
upset by. It certainly wasn’t within his right to have expectations about who
called on her. He had no purview at all.
“He’s upset, I think,” Eliza said while Octavia paced back and forth.
“Who?” Octavia said, feigning confusion. She knew exactly who
Eliza was referring to.
“Lord Fortescue.”
“What does he have the right to be upset about?” What did he have
the right to be upset about? Nothing. They had no agreement between them,
there was no understanding settled, so what right did he have to be upset?
“Clearly he objects to the prince, somehow? Some men are like that. They
don’t like to see others achieve happiness.”
“And that is what you think he’s upset about?” Eliza asked.
“How should I know?” Octavia responded, knowing she sounded
petulant. It was her own unease that was making her short. But she had
nothing to be uneasy about. “I cannot control that Prince von Zweibrücken
was here when he called. And why would he expect that no one else was
calling on me? I certainly hadn’t agreed to a private meeting with him. I
didn’t even know he was coming.”
 Ugh, why did she feel so terrible? It felt as though her stomach was
twisting itself upside down.
“What I do know,” Eliza said, “is that men don’t always act
rationally.”
“Fortescue has never been rational.” That was perhaps an unfair
statement. Normally, he was rational in all things. It was just today that he
hadn’t been rational, and Octavia didn’t know what to do about it. It wasn’t
as if she could undo anything that had happened, and it wasn’t as if she
should wish to undo it.
The prince was interested in her. It was pretty clear, and he was a
lovely man. Funny, intelligent, witty, even a little naughty. Exactly why he
was interested in her, she wasn’t sure. They just got on well. Maybe he
liked that she didn’t pander to him sycophantically like so many others
seemed to do. But then who knew why anyone was interested in another
person? Can such things be explained?
But Fortescue was thorny and abrasive, and argumentative above all
else.
“Well, you’re going to have to marry one of them,” Eliza said.
“What?! Who said anything about marriage?” Unease gripped her
stomach again.
“If not Fortescue, then the prince certainly is. And Lord Fortescue, I
don’t think he would be this upset if he didn’t have hopes for you.”
“Maybe he’s just being irrational,” Octavia said curtly. She didn’t
want to talk about this, so she was acting petulantly.
“All being said, he’s not a bad catch,” Eliza continued.
“Who are you talking about now?”
 “Lord Fortescue.”
“Only someone insane would consider marrying him.”
“Well, it would have to be someone who loves him. He deserves no
less.”
Eliza would think that. The man walked on water to hear her tell it.
But that was the problem. Gratitude. Eliza still had gratitude for the
kindnesses he’d shown her when no one else had. And Fortescue was
grateful for the kindness he’d been shown. “People should be less kind,”
Octavia stated and received a deeply confused look from Eliza. “It clearly
confuses people.”
*
“The British do have a distinct style,” Frederich said as they slowly
walked down the length of the wall, admiring the paintings on display at the
British Museum.
“Yes, I suppose. The same could be said for other countries. The
Dutch certainly have their style. It makes you wonder about the psyche of
the culture. The Dutch must be very dark.”
Frederich leaned closer to her. “And the British are very pompous.”
“One cannot argue such a blatant truth,” she had to admit. Across
the room, Julius and Cressida wandered with Lydia in tow. Endlessly the
Forthill girls threw her scathing looks. They blamed her entirely for the
prince’s interest in her and not Lydia. Not in the least blaming Lydia’s inane
statements whenever he spoke to her.
“We have a good collection,” Frederich went on. “Mostly German
and Italian. Some Danish, too. They are more casual in tone. I like them.”
“I can’t say I’m all that familiar with Danish art.”
 “What have you been doing with yourself?” he asked with a smile
and a shake of his head.
“I have two troublesome brothers and a quarrelsome father. It’s
enough to deal with without bringing Danish art into bearing.”
“From that perspective, I see your point. Families are quarrelsome
to some degree or other, but it’s a treasure when there is also love and
respect.” The prince seemed to enjoy the dynamics between them. “This is
a beautiful picture,” he said, stopping at a landscape portrait.
“It looks like it was painted in the Lakes District. It is very
beautiful.”
“There is a lake in Bavaria I would like to show you, close to my
house. I think I will invite your brother and father to visit. Would you
come?”
“Of course,” she said. “If this lake is worth seeing, I’ll take you at
your word.”
Her answer pleased him, but something inside her felt as if she was
sitting on a runaway horse. Things were happening too fast for her to
understand. Inviting her and her family was a significant indication of his
interest. Julius would be ecstatically happy about this development. In fact,
there was a notion of panic coming over her. Not that she objected to
Frederich. In their time together, he had not disappointed her once. Nothing
of what he presented of himself came across as false or emphasized.
Perhaps because he didn't have to. There was nothing he needed to prove or
bolster. And he seemed to accept her for the person she was.
Meanwhile, Lydia had tried so very hard to convince him that she
was actually angelic, and to her chagrin, he showed no interest. In terms of
dressing them down for their arrogant and ungenerous behavior, Octavia
felt they were put in their place. There were qualities more valued than
status, and those qualities couldn’t be dampened.
“It would be delightful,” she said. Fundamentally, she didn’t object
to this man, and seeing where he was from would be very interesting.
Marrying him would mean leaving England. It was a significant
commitment. Obviously, it wouldn’t be as if she would never see London
again. “I understand Bavaria has more treasures than its lakes.”
“That is true. It would be my pleasure to show you my home.”
As the panic settled, there was excitement there. This could
potentially be her husband, and he wouldn’t be a bad catch—and that
wasn’t based on him being a prince. He was a lovely man.
“And I’m enjoying this time in England more than I expected to,
and you are the cause of that.”
“Thank you,” she said, feeling a blush stain her cheeks. His
compliments were utterly direct, which was something she wasn’t quite
used to. Lord Fortescue’s grudgingly given compliments came to mind, as if
they had to be dragged out of him like petulant mules. The thought made
her smile.
“But my life is not all pleasure and enjoyment,” he said.
“Unfortunately, I must agree to the requisite royal visitations. I have to
leave London for a few days.”
“That sounds positively dreadful,” she teased.
“Well, it is slow, with a lot of sitting and smiling with people you
don’t really know but are invariably related to. So in a sense, they are
family, and it would be rude to not see them. I haven’t met the British
Queen before, but I have met her husband many times. A good man.”
 “Then I wish you a tolerable visit. Dress warmly. I hear Windsor
Castle is terribly cold and drafty.”
“Fear not. Old, cold and drafty I am used to. It will be my pleasure
to see you at the Admiral’s Ball.”
“Of course. I look forward to it.” She wouldn’t miss it for the world,
even if she wanted to. Julius wouldn’t let her. Not that she would attend it
because Julius wanted her to. Her regard for the prince was entirely separate
from her brother’s enthusiasm for the match.
Also, she wondered if Lord Fortescue would be there. Renewed
unease twisted her gut. For some reason, she didn’t want him to see how it
was between her and the prince. Somehow, it felt as though she was doing
something wrong, when in reality, she really wasn’t.
This unease needed to stop, but she didn’t know how to address it.
 
 Chapter 33
 
THE CLUB HAD BECOME a safe haven for him, where he didn’t get
introduced to anyone’s daughter, and the men had stopped inviting him on
behalf of their wives. Once was enough. Beyond that was unseemly, and
everyone, more or less, stuck to that edict. It also distracted him from his
own thoughts, which were a little morose for his liking.
Whatever he did, he could not shake the persistent thoughts of his
last encounter with Octavia. There was no reason why he should feel so
betrayed, but he did. She had every right to receive anyone she liked, and
she clearly enjoyed this prince’s company. In darker moments, he wondered
if it was the man’s title she adored. Marrying him would make her both
wealthy and powerful. The women who were always trying to tear her
down would have to bow to her. Anyone had to feel the justice in that.
So it wasn’t that he begrudged her success, but underneath, the part
of him that couldn’t be reasoned with still felt betrayed. Maybe the feeling
would give one day, or maybe it wouldn’t. He hoped it did, because there
was a part of his unconscious mind that was screaming in panic, as if there
was something he could do to fix this. The more logical part of him felt that
if she was even so much as unsure, this was not the pairing for him. He
didn’t want messiness, or compromises. He wanted someone who wanted
him wholeheartedly, and that was not the situation he was in.
Fortescue greeted people as they passed, but he didn’t invite anyone
into conversation. One of the best things about the club was that it wasn’t
required. Respect was given to those seeking a quiet night.
Exactly when had he become the person seeking silence and
solitude? When he’d started seriously considering women. Battles from
which he’d come off worse for wear, and so far, it didn’t even include
marriage.
The following night was the Admiral’s Ball. The Earl of Egmont
threw a ball every year, that was one of the larger events of the season. He'd
already responded to the invitation, so he felt he had to make an
appearance. At this point, he also felt that he needed to stop running away
from the discomfort of scheming mavens and dashed hopes. Octavia was a
part of the society in which he mixed. It was a simple fact, at least until she
married and moved to the continent. Until then, he would simply have to
accept that there were places where he would see her.
Finishing his port in the smoking room, he decided he’d had enough
for the evening and chose to walk home. It was chilly outside, but he
relished the briskness. It felt as if he had settled something for himself. He
knew why he was there, to find his wife and companion, and he needed to
pursue that aim. Disappointment was his to bear and he would do so, but his
search for someone who wanted to be with him had to continue. What other
option was there? Retreat to his estate and live like a hermit out of spite for
not getting what he wanted? It simply wasn’t to be his. She wasn’t to be his.
And as disappointing as that was, it could not define him. Compared to a
long and happy marriage, this loss would fade.
It might not feel like it just then, but he was known for being
pragmatic. The search had to continue.
*
The Admiral’s ball was well attended. In fact, it was probably too
well attended. It was downright crowded. The large ballroom was loud and
hot. Seats were at a premium and reserved for the elderly. Even so, people
insisted on being here, and considering it now, he wasn’t sure what in the
world had made him accept this invitation.
That was a lie. It had been the prospect of seeing Octavia. This had
been before their new understanding. And now, he was here out of pride for
not running away, even if that was exactly what he wanted to do.
So, he let himself be introduced to the young ladies related to the
people he knew. There was no shortage of eligible young women. What he
feared was that he wouldn’t feel affinity with any of them. A few of them
he danced with. The conversation was perfectly fine, the young women
were well trained in the art. They were beautiful, with impeccable manners.
All he wanted was some spark to indicate there could be something
more, something real. And it was deeply unfair to compare them to
Octavia’s vivaciousness.
He flatly forbade himself to search for her. No doubt, she was here
somewhere, being well attended to by her Bavarian prince.
A spear of utter loneliness struck him. It felt as though he had found
his very best friend and now had to leave the friendship behind. He just
wanted his own people, people who belonged with him. A family.
Granted, the process of getting one was exceedingly painful. As
were his toes that a man just stepped on. In all seriousness, he had to find a
wife so he never had to do this again.
“Lord Fortescue,” a familiar voice said and he cringed a little on the
inside. Octavia had found him. Could she not have simply passed him by
without drawing his attention? There were enough people to do so.
“Miss Hennington. A delight to see you.” And she was alone,
walking through the crowd. “I hope you’re enjoying the evening.”
 “It’s a fine evening, if one likes excessively crowded balls. I have to
say there is a certain comfort element in exclusivity.”
Finn felt awkward. And it was hard to hear her. They had to stand
much closer than preferred.
“Saying that, I suspect it will thin out considerably in an hour. Many
of our more honorable attendees won’t be able to tolerate this for long.”
“I think I might count myself amongst them.”
“Are you honorable now?” she asked, that teasing glint in her eyes.
How easily she drew him in, but he couldn’t allow himself to be drawn into
her banter anymore. No one who heard them would say it was flirtatious,
but in reality, it very much was.
“I hope you have a wonderful evening,” he said with a small bow of
his head, effectively ending the conversation.
“There is more room on the dance floor,” she said. “It seems it’s the
only place with enough room to converse.”
“I can’t dance with you, Miss Hennington.”
“Whyever not?”
Finn didn’t know how to answer. Didn’t want to answer. He
certainly wasn’t going to torture himself by dancing with her. It felt too...
masochistic.
“I would like us to be friends,” she said, her hand touching the
jacket on his forearm. A gesture he noticed.
“I can’t be friends with you,” he said, barely able to make himself
look at her, but he forced himself to. There was concern in her eyes. “I’m
sorry.”
 The last thing he needed was a friendship with the person he was in
love with. Something that continued on and on, constantly giving and
dashing hope. It would distract him for years, probably well into her
marriage. It wouldn’t serve him at all, because it would be a place where
he’d be too on edge to be happy, but too comfortable to leave.
“Good evening,” he said with another quick bow and he drew
himself away and didn’t look back. His heart beat with the finality of it. It
did feel final. The end of his entanglement with Miss Octavia Hennington.
The one that had devastated him to a degree he hadn’t thought possible. In
all, none of it was her fault. She’d done nothing wrong. He’d fallen in love
with her, and it wasn’t for her to reciprocate simply because he wanted her
to.
There was one more young lady he was obliged to dance with, but
beyond that, he couldn’t tolerate this anymore. He’d come, he’d done what
he had to do—had proven what he needed to. He’d also ended any
continued entanglement with Octavia—probably the whole Hennington
family.
Perhaps it would be better if he attended smaller gatherings. Ideally
not in the Hennington social circle. It shouldn’t prove too difficult. There
wasn’t a shortage of eligible young women. He simply had to get to know a
few. Sooner or later, he would find someone steadfast, intelligent and
reasonable. It certainly didn’t need to be someone who made quite the
impact that Octavia did. Most importantly, he wanted someone who wanted
him back. It wasn’t too much to ask for, was it?
Now if he could just find Miss Rose Merton so he could free himself
from the last obligation for the evening. In all honesty, he even felt like
visiting some of his old haunts. It wasn’t a night to go home and sulk. There
had been too much of brooding and reflection of late. Too much by far.
Perhaps what he needed was a few drinks with people intent on being
merry.
 Chapter 34
 
OCTAVIA PACED IN THE quiet salon. It was early even as she’d returned
home quite late last night. Her sleep had been horrible and her head ached.
In all, it hadn’t been a terribly pleasant evening. The prince had been his
typical self, and she’d enjoyed his company, even as neither of them had
particularly enjoyed the evening. But that hadn’t been the entirety of her
lack of enjoyment.
Soft steps approached and she knew it was Eliza, who looked
surprised seeing Octavia there. “I would have thought you would still be
asleep. How was it?”
“Horrible. You chose wisely in not coming. It was incredibly
crowded. Both hot and loud. None of us came away without bruises from
someone’s elbow in our side or back.”
“Are you sure that wasn’t Cressida?” Eliza asked sweetly. On the
surface, Eliza was always sweet and calm, but at times, there was that glint
of mischief in her. It must have been one of the many reasons Caius loved
her. At times, Octavia wondered if Eliza didn’t downright enjoy her new
sister-in-law's overt pettiness.
“Fortescue refuses to be friends with me,” Octavia blurted out. This
had sat with her all night, and she couldn’t reconcile herself with it. “He
plain said that we cannot be friends and he wished me all the best for my
future. Plain as face.”
Eliza pressed her lips together and released them. It almost seemed
as if she wasn’t surprised by this.
“I suppose that is his punishment.”
 “I don’t think it’s a punishment,” Eliza said.
“It feels like it is.”
“I think he simply needs distance and you should respect that,” Eliza
said, sitting down just as Mr. James brought in a tea service.
“Are you not eating this morning?” Octavia asked, concern lacing
her voice.
“A little later, I think. Come have some tea.”
“So we simply avoid each other from now on? Is that what he has in
mind?”
“I suspect he will not make it difficult to do so,” she said with a
small smile.
It was hard for Octavia not to feel upset about this. After everything
she’d done for him, this felt a little like a punch in the gut. Obviously, she
kind of understood. She had herself cut off people she’d felt there was no
future with. And normally, she wouldn’t care if someone did the same to
her. It was a practical thing to do, but this felt more severe.
Chances were that she’d never see him again. It wouldn’t be for a
long time, anyway. He would ensure it. His appearance would not happen
again at the large balls and society events. All to avoid her. It felt...
devastating. That was the word for it. It felt devastating, as if she’d lost a
very close friend, because he did seem to know her in ways other people
didn’t. When she spoke, he listened—he understood her intentions. And
now he cut her off.
All because he didn’t approve of the prince!
That was unfair and she wasn’t being honest about the real reason
behind this. It was an issue she didn’t really want to face. He cared about
her, more than as a friend. And because of that, he couldn’t be friends with
her.
Sad and distressed was how she felt. More than she ever had before.
Which was probably why she was behaving quite childishly. She did not
want this. Neither did she want him to stop caring about her, which was
exactly what he was trying to do. Her absence would lead to him stopping
caring about her, and then his attention would turn elsewhere. Nausea rolled
her stomach.
“I think it’s best you just let him go,” Eliza said beside her and
Octavia bristled at the statement. Of course it was a reasonable request. She
just didn’t want to be reasonable. “Let us talk about Prince Frederich
instead.”
“Drat Prince Frederich,” Octavia uttered without fully meaning to.
Right now, she didn’t even want to think of him. Of course she liked him.
What was there not to like about him? But the truth was that dealing with
him... everything seemed less pressing and distant. The likelihood of a
match between them was a distant thing, a very uncertain thing. It was
flattering that he liked her, and she liked him in return. This affection
between themwas fun and light, but it didn’t feel… raw.
It was that very rawness she was steering clear of, because it felt
both compelling and threatening. In the very heart of her, she knew
Fortescue could break her heart if she let him. And his confusion between
real feelings and gratitude would lead them down that path. What she’d
done had been sensible. Navigated a fine line where they would still have
the friendship, but not veer into heartbreak. It had been the perfect balance,
the safe balance, but he wasn’t having it.
 Eliza was silent for a while. “If that is how you feel, maybe you
shouldn’t encourage him to woo you.”
That wasn’t what Octavia meant. This was how misunderstandings
so easily arose. “I never said I don’t take his interest seriously. It’s a
flirtation. Nothing is assured with it.”
Flirtation was something she’d had to be very careful with when
dealing with Fortescue, because flirtation would lead to kissing, which
would lead to marriage before either of them had had a moment to think
about it. Gratitude and affection would spur things on so smoothly and
quickly, neither of them would have time to ask if it was the right thing.
“But you are interested in marrying him?” Eliza said.
“As I said, it is merely a flirtation. For all we know, he may not be
free to marry as he wishes.”
Eliza shifted in her seat. “Then you are not serious about him.”
There was accusation in her voice.
“I am very seriously considering seeing how this goes. Why does
everyone expect me to marry without ever determining if the person are
right for me? I won’t apologize for it,” Octavia said and stood. "Once again,
I feel like I’m being pushed to do things I don’t feel I’ve had the time to
determine is right. Like marry the first interested man of reasonable social
standing. Who cares what the quality of the marriage would be like, or how
well they were actually matched? No,” she said sharply. “I am not marrying
him simply because he’s a prince, but yes, I am exploring whether he is a
man I could marry, and please don’t assume that just because he flirts with
me that he’s ready to propose. That is naive and foolhardy. I’m allowed to
actually know the person I marry.” It wasn’t simply Eliza she was aiming
this at, but Julius and Cressida, and Fortescue. And everyone who had more
than a passing interest in this prince and how beneficial it would be to the
family. Also to all the people who kept asking her when she was going to
allow herself to marry. Everyone questioned her intentions, trying to find
some plan to deceive in her actions.
“Octavia,” Eliza called. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Right now, she needed some air and a bit of peace, so she ventured
into the garden, which was downright cold. The plants were slumbering and
the grass was covered in frost.
For a while, Lord Fortescue had been the one who hadn’t pressed
her constantly. Until things changed and he started pressing for himself.
And now, he refused to have anything to do with her.
With a sigh, she sat down on the bench. The cold of it seeped
through her dress, but she didn’t care. The coldness soothed her temper too.
It was inexcusable losing her temper like that. It just felt as if
everything was overwhelming her all at once. Things were happening that
she didn’t want. Well, Fortescue walking away from her was the thing she
didn’t want, and Eliza telling her to simply let him go.
The truth was that she’d taken him for granted. No, that wasn’t
accurate. She’d placed him in a safe place, where she got to enjoy the parts
of him she liked, but stayed clear of the dangerous parts—the parts that
would either break her heart or lead her into marriage, probably in very
short order.
If she let him, he would kiss her, and he had no desire to go slow. A
mere kiss and her entire future could be set, and there would be no time to
ensure his feelings were true, and not just an echo of the gratitude he felt.
None of these things would be resolved by him never seeing her
again.
 With a sigh, she considered what she wanted. Did she want to never
speak to him again? No, of course not. Did she want to marry him?
The silence was stark in her mind for a moment. Did she want to
marry him?
She didn’t want to marry anyone else. When it came down to it and
she had to choose between the prince and Fortescue, the honest truth was
that she’d rather marry Fortescue. But she needed to be sure his feelings
were real.
It could perhaps be said she was a little afraid of getting married,
because it was such a large change and one she would have little control in
if it turned out to be an unhappy match. But Fortescue was basically
throwing an ultimatum. He wouldn’t be put in a safe place for her to take
her time making up her mind.
According to Eliza, he felt her interest in the prince had been
rejection, and in simplistic terms, she could see how he would perceive it
that way. She had to communicate that it was not, but she didn’t really
know how.
Twisting her fingers together, she considered what to do. A letter.
She would write him a letter. Granted, she wasn’t terribly eloquent with
letters, and Fortescue didn’t seem to be much of a writer either. And what
was she supposed to say: that she liked him more than she let on, but she
was worried he didn’t truly know his own heart and that his interest in her
was merely a reflection of the dependence and vulnerability he’d felt when
he’d been injured? So if he could please clear that point, it would be much
appreciated. Could he please clear up the confusion he probably didn’t
recognize was there in the first place?
 Would he react so decisively if he didn’t have strong, true feelings?
Yes, wounded pride made men do stupid things. Because really, if she
wanted examples of men doing stupid things, she could easily refer to both
of her brothers. Men were far from infallible.
So how did she tell Fortescue he needed to prove his feelings were
true?
Somehow, she needed to get these requirements into a letter. She
would go through a whole pile of paper trying to word this correctly.
 Chapter 35
 
THE FIRE HAD DIFFICULTY fighting the cold that pressed in from the
windows. Finn reckoned it may actually snow if the cold weather
continued. Mr. Walters was outside stacking firewood in the covered area of
the mews stable. A delivery must have come. Finn watched the man at his
work for a while. All of London was blanketed by this cold, probably the
whole country.
Soon, preparations would start for Christmas. Honestly, it wasn’t
something he looked forward to this year as he had no one to celebrate it
with. It was a time when everyone retreated to their families—even the
most committed knaves and inebriates returned to their families for
Christmas.
In a way, he wished he could simply skip it altogether, but he knew
it meant a great deal to the staff. So would sending them all to their
families, which may be an even better option. Most of them would have
families somewhere. Even Mr. Fuller had a sister somewhere near
Scarborough. So instead of the two days off they normally had, he would
send them off for a whole week. It would give them enough time to travel if
they should wish to. His club was perfectly capable of taking care of him,
and on Christmas day, he could survive perfectly well with wine, cheese
and some cold cuts for a day or two. He certainly didn’t need them to
prepare a full Christmas dinner for just him to eat alone in his dining room.
Having determined this course of action, he felt better about the
upcoming Christmas season. The discomforts could simply be avoided and
everyone would benefit.
 “The mail has arrived,” Mrs. Smythe said as she walked into his
study. “I’ll leave it right here for you. And I’ll have some scones brought
up. They’ve just come out of the oven.”
The style of managing him between Mrs. Smythe and Mr. Fuller
couldn’t be different. Mrs. Smythe had a habit of sharing her enthusiasm for
baked treats. Mr. Fuller wouldn’t dream of it. When it came to the cellar,
Mrs. Smythe was utterly and completely lost, and he was better off going
down himself and picking matching wine for his supper, a task he didn’t
mind. More of a problem was that Mrs. Smythe would be completely lost
when it came time to refill the wine cellar, which was an issue he hadn’t
addressed yet.
“Thank you,” Finn said and picked up the pile of letters she left on
the edge of his desk. Invitations, which he put to side due to lack of interest.
Then he came to one letter and paused. It was from her. He just knew.
Before this, he hadn’t been aware he knew her handwriting. Or maybe he
didn’t. He just knew it was a letter from her.
His primary instinct was to tear it open and to see what she wanted.
Maybe it was to admonish him for being silly, or to apologize, which she
really had no reason to. In all of this, she hadn’t been unreasonable at all.
She wasn’t responsible for his feelings. Or It could be an invitation coming
from her, completely ignoring his wish for distance between them.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t to his benefit to open this letter. It would
only mean more engagement with her, which was the opposite of what he’d
tasked himself to do—to not deal with her further. It would be so easy to
give himself an excuse to open that letter and read its contents. Even if he
didn’t write back, he would be drawn into dealing with her further, to know
her thoughts, to understand her feelings—which were not for him—and to
be privy to her plans. None of these things served his objective.
 Pulling over a piece of paper, he picked up his pen and dipped it in
ink. This wasn’t a rejection set to anger and dismiss her, and he felt he
needed to communicate that when he sent the letter back to her unopened.
Hovering over the paper for a moment, he considered what he could say,
how he could say that he needed her to keep her distance.
My Dear Miss Hennington,
The pen paused above the paper. He still didn’t know what to say.
I wish you the very best for your future. Everything you could wish
for, but as I said, I cannot any longer be involved. Hence I am returning
your letter unopened. It is not a sign of anger. Simply out of necessity. I do
not require anything from you, and I will be delighted for you in the event
of reading of your upcoming nuptials.
Your Servant,
Finn
Sealing it, he sent it quickly with her letter included, in case he fold
and change his mind. The temptation to know what she wanted was so
strong. The mere fact that she might need him itched under his skin. It was
the very reason this distance was so necessary. If he was caught up in her
life, he would see no other.
It was with finality that he put down the pen he’d just toyed with.
This still ached painfully inside him, but it had to be done. This pain in
exchange of years of heartache.
Maybe he should peruse his invitations, but he just couldn’t be
bothered. It could serve him to do something, perhaps take a trip to France
to personally refill his wine cellars. It would get him away from here and
any subsequent letters from her. The worst of the ache would pass and by
the time he came back, he would be more open to invitations. Most of the
season would be over, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
It was definitely worth thinking about, especially as he struggled to
get out of this malaise. With a sigh, he sat back and watched the fire for a
moment. He should call on someone this afternoon, but decided not to. The
honest truth was that he wasn’t receptive enough just at the moment. His
mind wasn’t in the right frame, and hopefully, this trip would sort him out.
What he could do was go to the club and talk vineyards—gather some
recommendations.
And he should go through the investment proposals sitting on his
desk. Ever since his accident, his life had felt too tumultuous to focus. More
accurately, that was probably since he’d met Octavia. She was like a storm
—awe-inspiring and surprising at every turn.
Telling himself off, he pushed her out of his mind again. He was
behaving like a starry-eyed schoolboy—in the throes of his first love. 
Actually, he should take stock of what was in his wine cellar at the
moment. Maybe even taste some of the ones he hadn’t tried yet. He had
nothing better to do, and what better than to make drinking wine analytical?
Plan made, he headed down to the cellar, past the surprised kitchen
staff into the deepest part of the house, which was little more than a stone-
walled grotto. Surprisingly, it was cool, but not extremely cold. A few
lanterns lit and he could work well enough. He got lost in the task of
cataloging what existed. Someone else could do this, but it was a task he
quite enjoyed.
“My Lord?” Mr. Walters called from the stairs. “There is a visitor
here to see you.”
 “Oh?” he said with surprise. His visitors were rare and usually well
anticipated.
“A young lady.”
Octavia. He knew right away. She’d received his letter and had
become incensed by it. “Fie, I’m coming,” he said curtly. This was entirely
inappropriate. “Did anyone come with her?”
“No. Just her.” Even more inappropriate.
She stood just beyond the door, wearing a hooded cape, which
showed she’d concealed her identity. She knew this was beyond
inappropriate. Yet she’d still done it. Not that he was entirely surprised.
“You can’t be here, Octavia.”
“What was I supposed to do? You refused to read my letter.”
“I explained in the letter I returned it with.” People would take note.
If someone saw her and knew it was her, her reputation would be ruined.
“Your brother will murder me if he knows you’re here. Probably both of
them at the same time.”
The stubborn look on her face told him she wasn’t leaving without
having this conversation. “Infuriating woman,” he said and grabbed her by
the elbow to pull her inside and closed the door. “Walters, ready my
carriage. I take it you walked here.”
“Of course.”
“Oh, wonderful. How many people saw you?”
“Please stop changing the subject.”
Vexation boiled inside him. “As I said there is no subject to
discuss.”
 “I don’t know if your purported feelings for me are real or a
reflection of being in such a vulnerable state when I helped you. It’s
perfectly natural to be grateful for such assistance.”
“Should I be grateful now when you risk both of our reputations?”
“Please focus. This is important.”
“And your reputation is not?”
“Are your feelings for me based on gratitude?” There was full
seriousness in her eyes, and she wasn’t leaving until he answered. It was a
fairly in-depth subject for just letting someone in the door.
“No, of course not.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, I sincerely feel like strangling you, but unfortunately that
does not dampen my feelings. Is that what you wish to hear? How is the
prince? You two seem to get on very well together.”
“Perfectly fine, I assume. And yes, we do get on very well together,
but I’m not on his doorstep interrogating his feelings, am I?” she replied
with her arms crossed.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Now it was her turn to be searching for words. “It’s just...” she
started. “With you, it’s all or nothing, and I needed more time to see if the
all is... tolerable.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Finn said with confusion.
“What if we marry and then find out that this affection was all a
reflection of the vulnerability you felt when you were injured?”
“Who said anything about marriage?”
 “Oh, so these affections you’ve developed were all for toying with
me?”
“No,” he had to concede, but he didn’t like to. Speaking of
vulnerability, this was forcing his vulnerable heart fully open, and it was a
lie to say it was comfortable. “But it wasn’t as if I was making an
appointment with your father.”
“But you were upset with me for spending time with someone else.”
“What is the point of all this?”
“The point is, you need to be a little more considerate before
banishing me from your life—particularly as you have no intentions for
me.”
“I never said I had no intentions.” His one main intention had been
to kiss her, and he’d never had the chance. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought
beyond that, even as he knew in his gut that once he started kissing her, he
wouldn’t be able to stop.
“Oh, really, wha—?”
He was probably damned, but he stole the kiss he wanted. Soft,
surprised lips met his. The taste of her was all-consuming. The softness of
her body to his. He needed more, he needed everything she would give him.
The kiss deepened and his tongue sought the sweetness of her mouth.
Desire flowed through every part of him, and he felt right for the first time
in a long time. This was where he needed to be.
His hand at the back of her neck drew her in closer. If he shocked
her, her soft groan showed he wasn’t entirely unwelcome. Her tongue
stroked along his, taking from him as much as he was giving. His whole
body was alive, and ran with energy as he broke the kiss. He had her against
the vestibule wall, caught between his elbows. Nothing in him wanted to
move away from her, but he had to. Because it wasn’t just a kiss he wanted.
He wanted everything. Years of bickering, children, family, sex. Sex more
than anything right that minute. In fact, he was fully ready right now, here
against this wall. He would shock her with his ardor. As much as she liked
to push the boundaries, she was an innocent.
“You have to leave here. You won’t be safe if you stay,” he said
breathily.
Her eyes dashed between his. All he wanted to do was get lost in
another kiss, but he wouldn’t be able to stop again.
“Will you turn me away if I stay?”
“What? No.”
“I’m not asking lightly. I want to stay, but I need to know what your
intentions are, and what your true feelings are.”
“Will you marry me, Octavia?”
“Yes.”
The relief inside him was like a floodgate opening. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Because I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“You literally drive me up the wall most of the time. Saying that, I
very much like having you against a wall too.” The softness of her body
teased him. “But I wasn’t jesting. You really must go, because I’m in threat
of being lewd.”
“Really?” she said with a smile. “Now I am so curious.”
“Don’t be. Just go. Now.”
 “No.” She bit her lip and it undid him. He rushed into another kiss,
claiming her luscious lips again. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he
knew he should be cool and aloof, but he couldn’t. He wanted her so much.
And what would a few more kisses hurt?
His grip on reality wavered as she accepted him, her body flush to
his. He was self-conscious of his hardness and hoped she wouldn’t judge
him too harshly for how badly he wanted her. This certainly wasn’t the cool
self-control he liked to have in all things. It had never worked with her. She
pierced every one of his defenses, and always had.
With his hand, he stroked down the side of her face. This was going
to be his wife, and he couldn’t be happier. The thought sobered him for a
moment, and he drew away and straightened his clothes. “Can I offer you a
drink? There are perhaps things we should talk about.”
“I don’t want to talk. I want to kiss.”
And they were embroiled in another kiss, one that made him lose
track of time and place. More so as her legs enveloped him, and her body
pressed to his painful tightness. Sensation flared through him, and he was
scared of dropping her, at the same time not being able to stop this from
going too far. She wasn’t giving him a chance to.
“Octavia, please take care. I’m not made of steel, and my control
flags when I’m with you.”
“I want to see you when you don’t have control. We’re engaged. It’s
understandable.”
“I don’t think anyone agrees with you.” Pausing, he held her close
and kissed her forehead. He held her so tight, she couldn’t move, just to
give them a moment to pause. But then the excitement of it all threatened to
overwhelm him. They were going to marry. There was this whole future
ahead of them now, and he was trying to think of it all at once. Although
she was getting a little frustrated with his grip, so he looked down on her
lovely face and exhaled deeply. “I have to go see your father.”
“I suppose he would appreciate that.”
“You don’t suppose he would be disappointed after hopes for a
loftier match?”
“As with so many other things, my father doesn’t have much regard
for royalty. He quite likes you, though. I have no idea why.”
“That’s encouraging, I suppose.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll marry you anyway.”
“Yes, well, let’s not tell him that.”
“He wouldn’t be surprised.” She smiled and it just about undid his
control.
“So I cannot induce you to go home right now?”
She shook her head, and then watched him expectantly, wanting
another kiss. Well, if she insisted. Leaning down, he claimed her lips again.
Sweetness suffused his mind.
 Chapter 36
 
OCTAVIA WANTED TO DO everything at once. No, that wasn’t true, she
wanted to kiss Fortescue, more than the normal chaste kiss she would allow
anyone. She wanted to explore this hunger, the hunger she’d at times seen
in Eliza when she looked at her husband. It was thrilling and exciting
beyond anything else.
As far as she saw, there was no reason not to. They were engaged.
They would be married very soon, and she had no concern in that regard.
Fortescue was a man of his word, and she trusted him implicitly, which was
something she’d discovered along the way. And any qualms she’d had
about his feelings had melted away too. Perhaps her concern had been
based in fear, or some notion that this was too good to be true.
It was real. This was her husband, and she was so very excited about
it. More so because this wasn’t a man she could simply walk over. He met
her and they debated fiercely. The thought made her smile. Maybe she’d
been searching for the man who didn’t simply just agree with her. Even the
prince tended to agree with her, along with trying to impress her.
And when Finn kissed her, the world just melted away. Nothing
existed outside the kiss and the heady desire that came with it. Her body
burned and her hands itched to touch him, to feel his solidness, the warmth
of him, and to feel his body along hers. Every part of her wanted more.
Especially the curious heat inside her that just grew stronger. This was
desire and she felt it so very strongly. She wanted to know the full extent of
it.
She’d also discovered that it was his weakness. He was so strong
with everything else, but when she touched him, he wavered. And she loved
how he did, how he responded to her with his very body. And she also knew
he was ready—she could feel it. Enough of the basic mechanics had been
told to her. How much of what she’d been told was true, she wasn’t entirely
sure. But the hardness went inside her and it was akin to magic.
Reaching her hand down, she felt him through his breeches and his
eyes utterly lost focus with the touch. The magic definitely worked for
them, but his hand clasped around her wrist. “I won’t be able to stop.”
“I don’t want you to.”
He blinked and regarded her, and she had never felt so wanted
before. Everything about him was attuned to her. If anyone said this wasn’t
magic, she couldn’t agree with them. All she wanted was to touch his skin,
but she had to access it. “I want all of you,” she said, pleading that he didn’t
stop this out of some notion of propriety. Everything inside her needed
more.
His arm slipping around her pulled her to him and he carried her
into the next room where they sat down on the sofa. She straddled him, felt
him beneath her, felt him pressed to her. They kissed again, but the
sensations were so much more complex now. When she moved, the friction
intensified everything. And that friction was exquisite. It almost seemed to
hurt him, but she couldn’t stop. It just felt so good.
Reaching up her back, he undid the buttons of her dress, and cool air
met her as he pulled it down around her, along with her chemise. She'd
never been so exposed, and she loved it because it was with him. Her
nipples ached painfully, and as he drew her near, he took one of his mouth.
Fire flared inside her and she didn’t know what to do with herself. Her
insides tightened painfully.
 Finally releasing the tortured bud, she felt the coolness of the air on
it.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “We can stop now.”
“No,” she said breathily. “Don’t stop, I mean.”
Shifting her to the sofa so she lay on her back, he helped her pull her
dress further down along her, along with her chemise, drawers, and
stockings, until there was nothing left. Then his vest and shirt. Then his
breeches, and she saw him, all of him. She wasn’t scared. This really was
magic.
Then he joined her, and for a moment, she couldn’t see how this
would proceed, but the sensation overtook and all she could do was feel as
that hardness pressed into her. “This will hurt a little,” he said softly.
“I know,” she said. She’d heard about that too, but she was ready.
It stung a little, but that was it. Slightly warm, but nothing more than
that. She’d been expecting much worse. And then he was inside her and it
felt curious and full. Her body wanted to move as she had before. But he
moved and sensation overwhelmed her. All she could do was hang on. He
kissed her again and more sensation assaulted her. She didn’t know where
to focus, as if she was being drawn in different directions. It intensified with
each stroke which grew harder and harder, and she clutched onto his
shoulders with her arms.
Entirely unexpected, explosions of pleasure followed. How could
this be so utterly marvelous? She held him as tightly as she could as he
groaned deeply again and again before exhaustion seemed to claim him.
Had this hurt him in some way? Or were there explosions of wondrousness
for him too?
 As she finally cooled, snuggling tightly with him felt wonderful. In
fact, she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt this wonderful. In her heart, she knew
this was perfect, and that this had been worth fighting for. There was no
doubt in her mind.
“Your brothers will come looking for you if you stay any longer,” he
said and kissed her on the cheek. This was so cozy, so wonderful, she didn’t
want to leave, but yes, he was right, the longer she stayed here, the higher
the risk of awkward questions. Not that she minded, she wanted everyone to
know the good news.
“Alright,” she said, tearing herself away. For a moment, she just
watched him, how beautiful he was. This was to be her husband, and she
was beyond happy about it.
Grabbing her things, she dressed quickly. Had it been entirely
unexpected that her dress had come off? Well, she’d been open to it
happening, if the circumstances were right. She didn’t regret it, and really,
she was more enthusiastic than she’d ever been about the idea of marrying.
There was this lovely togetherness to be had.
Fortescue was dressed by the time she was ready to do up the
buttons on her dress, and he helped her. “I think I’ll endeavor to make your
cheeks so rosy every single day,” he said and kissed her on the nape of her
neck. Lucious feelings rose up her again, but she pushed them away.
Hopefully she would have the opportunity to spend some time alone with
him again. Surely she didn’t have to wait until the wedding to do this again?
It was just so lovely.
Lastly, she pulled on her hooded cloak.
“I’ll leave for Denham Hall immediately,” he said. “I hope your
father will not be unduly surprised. We did quarrel quite a bit when we were
there.”
“I honestly don’t know. Perhaps he’ll simply be relieved that I’ve
finally found someone I’m willing to marry.”
“I should be honored then,” he said with a smile.
“Yes, you should. I’m quite a catch,” she said teasingly. All she
wanted was to kiss him again, but if she did, she’d get stuck here for
probably quite a while longer. Would it be so terrible? They were engaged.
“Go. I have to pack,” he said.
“Alright, fine,” she said and let him as he urged her out the door.
Without looking around, she rushed away from the house and practically
ran all the way home.
Somehow, it felt as though everything had changed, but she was let
into the house without much fanfare. Mr. James took her cloak and didn’t
ask any questions about her choice of outerwear. Eliza was coming out of
the library carrying a book.
“Oh, there you are? Have you been out?”
“Yes,” Octavia said and followed her into the salon. “I went to see
Fortescue.”
“On your own? Did you take Mary with you?” Eliza said with
concern. Granted, she was right to be upset about something like that.
“No, but it’s alright,” Octavia said beamingly, even as Eliza didn’t
look impressed. “We had words and now we’re engaged.”
“Oh?” Eliza said. “That’s wonderful.”
“Then he deflowered me, and—”
Eliza’s hand covered Octavia’s mouth in a flash. “Do not let Caius
hear that,” Eliza warned. Octavia mumbled until Eliza finally pulled her
hand away.
“It was wonderful,” Octavia whispered.
Eliza softened. “I’m very glad you feel that way. But really, if your
brothers find out, it will be pistols at dawn.”
“We are engaged.”
“Yes, but don’t forget yourself. Brothers are still protective of their
sisters.”
“Pfft,” Octavia said dismissively. “Anyway, Fortescue said he'll
leave for Denham Hall this very afternoon to speak to my father.”
“Oh, I can’t believe it,” Eliza said. “No, I can. It’s perfect. He’s a
good man. I think you’ll be very happy together.” There was nothing but
delight on Eliza’s face. “And maybe my baby will have a cousin of quite
close age.”
“I hope not too soon,” Octavia said.
“Then you had better rein in doing the things you should not be
doing,” Eliza warned, and then she shook her head. “But then I’m not sure
it’s worth telling you to do anything you don’t want to do, or to try to stop
you doing what you want to do. Just be very careful, and restrain yourself.
A mere month is not the end of the world. There is no need to be in such a
great rush.”
Octavia didn’t feel like she was in a rush—she’d simply found how
things were going to be, so what was the point in waiting? Oh yes, her
stupid brothers were complete dolts.
 Chapter 37
 
AS FINN CAME AROUND TO seeing Denham Hall out the window of his
carriage, he recalled how weak he’d been the last time he’d come here.
Octavia had taken him home because she hadn’t known what else to do
with him. And in a short time, his life had changed dramatically. Now he
was trying to take her home. Although they seemed to know exactly what to
do with each other now.
Drawing breath, he exhaled the tension in him. There was nothing to
suggest this would go badly. Octavia seemed to think her father would
approve the match, but one never knew with fathers.
Since he’d been here last, the foliage had all fallen, leaving
slumbering trees and a frosty lawn. It was close to midday and frost still sat
in the places that still remained in shadow.
The wind was icy as he stepped out of the carriage. A footman Finn
recognized from before appeared on the stoop, looking perfectly reserved
despite the cold. “Lord Fortescue, this is quite the surprise. Did you send
word you were coming?”
“No, there wasn’t time. It’s only a quick visit. I wish to see Lord
Hennington when he has the time to see me.”
“Please come in. The parlor is warm, but very little else is in the
house right now. I’ll inform his lordship that you are here.”
“Please,” Finn said, hiding the fact that his nerves were asserting
themselves. The parlor was warm when he was led it. Finn guessed this was
where Lord Hennington spent much of his time through winter. A fire
roared in the grate and his empty reading chair sat in front of it. The
weather made it darker than when he’d seen it before.
The man disappeared and Finn stood by the fire, letting it chase
away some of the cold from sitting in the carriage for hours.
“We have a visitor, I hear,” said the familiar voice of Lord
Hennington. “It is rare indeed. One of the blessings of winter. No visitors
and no infernal children.” The man took his seat and indicated to another
chair. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Intelligent eyes studied him as the old man waited patiently for Finn
to decide which version of the ones he’d practiced he would launch into.
“Yes, I wished to speak to you. This may come as a surprise, or not,
but over time, your daughter and I—”
“Octavia,” Lord Hennington filled in.
“—have come to an understanding.”
Lord Hennington raised one of his eyebrows and almost looked
unimpressed. “You have come to ask for my daughter’s hand, I take it.”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“Because from what I hear, there are a few interested in my
daughter’s hand. She is beautiful and well provisioned for. Quite a few see
her as a prize.”
As opposed to what Octavia believed, it might just be that from the
father’s point of view, he’d held hopes for more of a royal spouse for his
daughter.
“My prospects are settled and steady, and not insignificant,” Finn
said. But it wasn’t a royal title. “And your daughter and I have grown to
care for each other.”
 The man pointedly raised his eyebrow again. “I take it Octavia
knows you are here?”
“I told her I would travel to see you, and to ask for her hand.” His
hands felt clammy and his neckerchief a little too tight, but he refused to
fidget. It had been a long time since he’d been nervous like this.
“And is Julius aware of this development?”
“No. Well, I don’t know. Octavia might have told him.”
“So this agreement was done without the knowledge of my son?”
“Yes.”
“And do you think he would approve the match?”
“I expect that he perhaps had hopes for another.”
“And you swooped in and stole her.”
“I’m not sure how much swooping and stealing can be done with
Octavia unless she desires it.”
Lord Hennington twisted his head slightly. “That is probably true.
And as you came here, I take it you are complicit in this match. To be
completely frank, with some, I would perhaps wonder if that were the case.
My daughter can be forceful.”
Finn expected the man would probably not appreciate how
enthusiastically she embraced the man she wanted.
“I have found that your daughter’s intentions are usually admirable.”
“Ha!” Lord Hennington said. “I do think you might be in love with
my daughter.”
“The description is perhaps accurate.”
The man considered him for a while longer. “Octavia would not
make an easy wife. Nothing about her has been easy from the day she was
born, but she is a sweet girl if one looks close enough.
“Then I will give you my approval, for I will not hear the end of it if
I don’t. You may marry my daughter. But if you do not intend on making
her happy, then I suggest you cry off. Octavia is relentless when she feels
something isn’t right. A man saves himself a world of trouble by choosing
an easy wife.”
“But it would be nowhere near as exciting.”
“May you never fall out of love.”
She was the one to always keep him challenged and on his toes. It
was his greatest wish to make her happy. He was curious to see how she
would grow and change with the years, how she would be as a mother. She
would make an excellent mother, and their children wouldn’t be drab
creatures, but nourished and cared for. He couldn’t wait to meet them too.
These people would be the ones that his life revolved around, the ones he
woke up in the morning for and strove to protect. If they were at all like
Octavia, it would be a lively house. “I am very excited about the future,” he
admitted.
“Then maybe you are the right man for her.”
“Of that I have no doubt.”
“Why don’t you stay for supper? You can make your way back in
the morning after a good rest. Octavia can do without you for another day.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Finn replied. Granted, he wanted to rush
back to London, but it was a shrewd investment to develop good
relationships with her father.
*
Finn went straight to Caius’ house so he could speak to Octavia. She
should know at the earliest opportunity that they had her father’s approval.
 As the carriage pulled up by the house, he got out and took the steps
two at a time until he reached the door. He knocked and waited. The curious
one-armed butler answered the door.
“Is Miss Hennington in?” he asked.
“Aye,” the man said brusquely and showed him in.
“Who is it?” a man said.
“Lord Fortescue,” the butler replied, and Caius Hennington came
out of his study.
“Fortescue,” he said with surprise.
“I am here to see your sister.”
“Is that so?”
“I am going to marry your sister.”
The man considered him. “You’ll have to get past our father.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Caius,” Octavia said. “Father has always said
who I marry will be my choice. Lord Fortescue,” she said with a quick
curtsey. Finn watched her as she came down the stairs.
“Well, your father sends his regards.”
“I suppose that saves us from having to elope. Now go away, Caius.
I wish to speak with my fiancé without you gawking at me.”
Caius grumbled, but he did as he was asked and returned to his
study. “No closed doors!” he ordered.
“Does he expect me to ravage you on his sofa?” Finn asked as
Octavia led him into the salon. “Your father suggested I find an easier
wife,” he said with a smile, “but I said I couldn’t possibly. It was much too
late for me, I am a caught man.”
“You make it sound like a sentence.”
 Leaning down, he kissed her. It had felt much too long since he’d
tasted her and smelled her lovely hair. Putting his arm around her, he drew
her close. The entire trip was worth it, this entire thing was worth it. The
injury. It had brought him her and he would do it again if he had to. “The
banns have been placed.”
“I suppose we must tell everyone,” she said and he loved that she
held him in return. Her cheek was on his chest and they simply stood like
that.
“Would you like a grand ball to announce it?” To be honest, at this
point, he was happy to never attend a ball again, but if she wanted one, it
would be the grandest ball that ever was.
“No, I think a supper would be nicer. Something smaller where one
can hear oneself think. Besides, if I invite some people and not others, it
will all get messy.”
“Then a supper it is. Maybe we’ll hire in the chefs from the Savoy.”
“That is actually an excellent idea.”
 
 
 Chapter 38
 
WHAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE an intimate supper to announce the
engagement turned out to be an evening with about thirty guests. There
were simply people who needed to be there. Some of her friends, some of
his, and her family. Sadly, Finn didn’t really have anyone to invite. There
was a cousin, but he lived in the West Indies.
Still, it was more of an intimate evening with their closest friends.
Octavia found no reason to throw a ball for the sake of her engagement. Her
social standing had diminished in importance for her utterly. She simply
didn’t care now. Obviously, invitations would come and they would accept
some, but the competition for social advancement was something she
simply couldn’t be bothered with. For some people, it occupied their lives,
but Octavia didn’t understand what the prize would be. Power, probably.
For herself, she had always coveted the power to do as she pleased. An aim
that was too perilous in the heights of social success.
“Rose,” she said with her hands held out when a dear friend arrived
with her husband. Most of her friends were married already and busy with
children and houses. It had made her friendships more distant and she’d
mourned that, but it was the way of things. Now she was marrying and it
seemed a common worry amongst her friends would be lifted. “It’s so
lovely to see you.” Although she expected her friends had been curious to
receive invitations to dine with Lord Fortescue, a man they had never met.
“I take it our invitation is your doing,” Rose said after greetings all
round. “Is there a special purpose for this evening?”
A consequence of being such a liberal person with her thoughts was
that she was utterly useless at keeping secrets. “The night will have to
unfold,” she said cryptically, but Rose already knew. She knew her well
enough to discern that there would be an announcement.
Again, Rose leaned in to kiss her. “He must be very worthy then.
Congratulations. I am inordinately pleased.”
Finn was chatting to some of his friends across the salon. Octavia
hadn’t met a single one of them yet. He always seemed so solitary, but
perhaps his friends were disappearing into marriages one after the other too.
“You will have to come tell me about it,” Rose said, having
followed the direction of her gaze. “Is Annabelle coming?”
“I believe so. I’m sure she’ll be here soon, but please, have a drink
and enjoy the evening. I must meet my brother,” Octavia said, seeing Julius
arrive with Cressida, and Lydia in tow. Octavia went to greet them. Her
brother kissed her on the cheek, and then Cressida. It felt practiced and icy.
At no point had Cressida warmed up to her.
“Octavia. You look lovely as always,” Julius said, which only
intensified Cressida’s disapproval. Octavia had to worry if Julius’ marriage
would turn out to be an unhappy one. On some level, they seemed well-
matched as they cared about the same things, but Cressida’s strong
disapproval would grate on Julius if it continued. They might bicker all day
long, but family was family. Hopefully, Cressida would calm down. The
unfortunate truth was that Octavia would probably have to stay away to
keep the peace.
“I see you are here,” Cressida said, as if she wouldn’t be invited to
her own engagement announcement—although Cressida didn’t know that.
“Dear Caius and Eliza must be here too,” Cressida said, looking around to
see them. They were over by the sofa. Caius insisted Eliza stay off her feet
as much as possible, and Eliza was trying to bear his overprotectiveness. “It
will be so lovely to see them.”
“Octavia,” Lydia said curtly. The girl hadn’t said more than two
words to her since Prince von Zweibrücken decided he preferred her
company to either of the Forthill sisters. The man had left a week back and
Octavia felt it was right to confess that her heart had become entangled.
Perhaps it always had been. It was hard to discern the exact point in which
her heart had become so. It could even be the moment she’d seen him
injured in his room, so vulnerable and helpless. It had felt so wrong seeing
him like that. There had always been something formidable about him,
something unstoppable and dangerous. From the start, something about him
had thrilled her.
“This is a lovely house,” Lydia said, taking in all aspects of the
salon. “I love the African art. Lord Forthill is an accomplished man. The
decor could use a woman’s touch. I’ll be sure to tell him.”
“I’m sure he would appreciate that,” Octavia replied.
They left her without another word as Cressida insisted on saying
hello to their host. Lydia was placed front and center, and no doubt flattery
would flow.
“Now, what a curious invitation,” Melville said, appearing at her
side.
“Is it?”
“I didn’t foresee that Fortescue was the type to plan suppers with
your friends. It seems quite a few of them are here. Curious indeed. But to
answer your question, I have to be frank and say I’m not all that surprised. I
take it your father will not be attending?”
“Too far to travel.”
 “Has Lord Fortescue had cause to see him of late?”
Octavia didn’t answer.
“I suspect uncle gave him hell.”
“Well, he survived.”
“The match must have his approval, then. It wouldn’t surprise me if
your father had shot him otherwise.”
“I doubt he would be that worked up about it.”
“Well, it would be something he’d enjoy, but all’s well that ends
well. How is Julius’ new bride taking the news?”
“She is not aware yet.”
“I can see that. She’s still trying to garner interest in that horrid
sister of hers.”
Normally, Octavia didn’t approve when Melville said such things
about women, but the description was well-earned in this case. “They won't
be pleased.”
“Well, I am pleased for you,” Melville said and kissed her on the
cheek. “I think I saw this coming.”
“Really?” Octavia said, because she’d felt like strangling Fortescue
much of the time when Melville had kept them company.
“It shall be an interesting evening.”
Hopefully not. Octavia greeted her other close friend as she arrived,
and they both joined Rose while their husbands found other conversation.
Congratulations were given again, and they confirmed that the banns had
been posted at the local church close to Wilkeston House. Telling her
friends made this all seem broader and more real. There was a larger
context than just her and Finn, and after tonight, everyone would know.
 Some time later, they were invited into the dining room and
Cressida’s mouth drew into a slim line of disapproval as Octavia took the
seat opposite Finn at the head of the table, her friends and Eliza beside her.
In determining the seating arrangement, neither she nor Finn had
particularly claimed the Forthill sisters, and it was just desserts as they
ended up in the middle of the table.
“I have some words,” Finn said and stood as everyone else was
seated. His nerves made him curt. Most people wouldn’t perceive it, but she
did. “An announcement, actually. About the upcoming nuptials between
myself and Miss Hennington.” His eyes came to her and he lifted his glass.
“To my soon to be wife, Octavia. The future Lady Fortescue.”
Everyone joined him in holding up their glasses. Even the Forthill
sisters, who looked furious. But right now, Octavia didn’t care about them.
Finn might right then have been as handsome as she had ever seen him.
There was no nervousness about him now. He looked absolutely pleased
and whatever else was, this was always about the two of them.
Octavia took a deep breath. She was happy. Her friends and family
here to celebrate her engagement to a man she loved. Nothing could be
better.
Congratulations came from around the table. Julius seemed pleased,
even as he was the one with the greatest hopes for a royal match. Octavia
knew he liked Finn. They got on well together. Caius was a little more
circumspect. They would get on perfectly well once Caius forgave him for
his willingness to steal Eliza away at one point. Eliza, on the other hand,
was probably the match's greatest supporter. She approved wholeheartedly.
The supper continued with a joyous energy and congratulations kept
coming. An excellent match, they said. They ate and drank, and enjoyed the
evening, until it was time for the women to retire to the salon while the men
enjoyed their port and tobacco.
Rose and Annabelle went to find the privy and Eliza took her seat.
Now the evening was starting to wear on her, and Octavia knew they would
leave shortly.
“So, I suppose you should be congratulated,” Cressida said.
“I suppose I should,” Octavia replied.
“Not only did you chase away the prince, but you stole Fortescue as
well. You do like to get around.”
Stole was a curious word. It implied that he belonged to them,
which had never been the case. And they certainly hadn’t charmed the
prince. “I’m simply a difficult person,” she said with a shrug.
“I hope you’re pleased. You really are the most selfish of creatures.”
Octavia’s smile was barely more than a grimace at this point. There
was no point arguing with this woman, she reminded herself. “I am very
happy.”
Cressida’s smile was putrid. The hate was not going to end anytime
soon, Octavia conceded.
“You do have a habit of bamboozling men. I wonder how you
achieve that?” Lydia said tartly. It was a thinly veiled aspersion on her
character. They would, of course, assume that she’d manipulated them in
some way, because that was a tactic they expected would be deployed. It
said more about them than it did about her. One could not steal a person, but
there was no point haggling with these women. They would always see her
in a certain light.
They would never understand that their beauty and inherent
superiority weren’t the sole virtues by which they were considered. They
would always believe that some kind of trickery was involved.
“I simply told him how handsome he was,” Octavia said with a
shrug. “Can you believe it’s that simple?”
“I’m sure it wasn’t quite that simple.” They prevented themselves
from going that one step too far and making accusations, even as they
believed she’d done something unscrupulous. And how could she argue
when the truth was that she wasn’t an innocent anymore? Obviously, that
had happened after the engagement, but Octavia doubted the Forthill sisters
would care.
As it was, however, Cressida had to be careful, or she would incur
Julius’ displeasure. If that was something she would risk in aim of her
vindictiveness remained to be seen. It would be to her detriment. Frankly,
Octavia didn’t care if everyone knew there had been some degree of passion
between her and her fiancé. Obviously, there would be disapproval, but
Octavia was used to incurring disapproval. Finn wouldn’t care. Julius
probably wouldn’t, but Caius was still touchy.
“Simple as that, I just stole him away.”
“He’ll never be happy with you. You’re too... ill-considered.
Everyone thinks so. Even your brothers.”
That was downright unkind. “Yes, I’m sure my brothers discuss
their opinion with you.”
Cressida’s displeasure showed the comment hit a mark. It seemed
Julius refused to entertain her malicious opinions. And Caius would never
speak to her about family, probably on any topic.
Leaving them behind, Octavia joined her husband-to-be as the men
joined them. “I hope you haven’t run into any difficulties,” he said quietly.
 “Nothing I can't handle. My thievery is both indiscreet and
offensive. I hold you under some spell.”
“Then let’s hope it never ends,” he said and kissed her quickly. It
was the first time they’d kissed in view of others, and Octavia blushed. “To
indiscretion and offensiveness,” he said and held up his glass of whiskey in
a mock toast.
Octavia smiled, but there was that slight worry in her for her
brother. It seemed her worry had shifted from one brother to the other. Was
there any point when she could stop worrying about them getting
themselves into trouble? Hopefully, her fears were unfounded, but she was
worried Julius had chosen very badly.
But tonight was not about her brother and his decisions. It was about
her and Finn, and about this, she had no qualms whatsoever. Above all else,
she got the love match she insisted on, and it was better than she’d dared
hope. It was now a mere three weeks until they married, and she hoped it
wasn’t the longest three weeks of her life.
“I love you,” he said into her ear and she felt nothing but
deliciousness. All she wanted to do right now was kiss him as deeply as she
could, but it would be scandalous. Would it be worth it, she wondered. No,
best not to. Really, they could wait. It was a mere three weeks until they
were married.
 Epilogue
 
Octavia kissed Finn’s nose as he lay sleeping on her with their limbs
entangled, completely naked. Dawn was cresting and it was time for him to
leave again, down the perilous path to the garden where he snuck in at night
to come to her. They hadn’t intended on this happening quite so often, but
when night fell, all she wanted was him with her, and he couldn’t stay away.
The urgent desire between them only got better and better. Her body
ached for him to arrive, and when he did, they just about ravaged each other.
So many days, she’d looked exhausted, taking long naps in the
afternoons. If Eliza noticed, she didn’t say anything. As it was, sleep
couldn’t compete with how badly she needed him to be with her, to touch her
and to make her feel so utterly wonderful. She’d had no idea it could be like
this between a man and a wife.
Come that afternoon, they would be married, and this sneaking into
her window each night wouldn’t be necessary. They would be on their
honeymoon and they could be together all day long, not having to pretend
they didn’t spend all night together.
Finn stirred and kissed her neck. Heat soared in her again. It was a
little like the madness the poets spoke about. Her want for him was
incessant, and so overwhelmingly powerful. The feel of his skin to hers,
them utterly naked like this, there simply wasn’t anything better. “It’s dawn,”
he said, his voice gravelly with sleep.
“Would it be so awful if you stayed? We will be married today.”
Shifting up and laying down on her again, he looked into her eyes.
“Today we marry. You have much to do, and there’s no need to start the
morning with scandal. I’ll see you at the church,” he said and kissed her.
 “Maybe just stay a little while longer,” she suggested and wound her
leg around his, cradling him between her thighs and grinding to him. The
lovely heat reasserted itself. Would she ever get enough of him, or would
they want each other like this constantly?
“You’re trying to bamboozle me and I’m powerless against you,” he
said and kissed her. As she relaxed into the kiss, he suddenly drew away
from her and sprung out of bed. She felt cheated. “But you will have to wait
until your wedding night, Miss Hennington.”
Walking silently, he pulled on his clothes. “And after tonight, I’ll stop
having to come to you like a thief in the night, sneaking out with the dawn
light.”
“You’re so devious, my lord,” she said teasingly as she rose to come
to him. The warmth of him met her searching hands, and he took her face in
his palms, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs.
“I am utterly bespelled by you,” he said softly. “I would brave a pit of
vipers to come to you. I love you, Octavia Hennington. From today, you’ll be
Lady Fortescue and you’ll be mine.” Leaning closer, he kissed her again and
she felt the heat of his body to hers. On some level, she felt like she couldn’t
breathe unless he was kissing her. She didn’t want him to go. One more day
apart. Well, part of it. It would be an insanely busy day with the preparation,
the wedding itself, and then lunch after, before they set off to the continent
for a whole two months.
Moving to the window, he opened it and cold air seeped into the
room. It assaulted her naked form, but she still wouldn’t leave him until she
had to. Would it not be wonderful that they could always stay together from
tonight on?
“Alright, fine, you are just too sensible,” she accused and held his
hand a moment more as he swung his leg out the window. Taking her by the
back of her neck, he drew her into another kiss. But he was right, it would be
a tumultuous and trying day, but also utterly exciting, and she would enjoy it
much more with an hour or two more sleep. “I love you,” she said. “Don’t
fall.”
As he stepped out of the window, she closed it to conserve the room’s
heat, but she stayed and watched as he climbed down to the garden where he
looked up at her and blew a kiss. Maybe this was the moment where he was
the handsomest she’d ever seen him. He looked happy and excited, so
different from the man she’d first met. How in the world had she been so
lucky?
As he disappeared out of sight, she knew she should get back into
bed and get as much sleep as she could, but she took a moment and looked
around the garden in the first light of dawn. It was a new day, a new chapter
of her life. Not that she hadn’t utterly loved every moment of the last month.
It had been thrilling and mischievous, and so utterly rewarding. Better than
she’d even imagined it could be.
There was no doubt she was in love with him, and he was in love
with her. Who would have thought after how they’d started?
 
 
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 Other Books by Camille Oster
 

A Closed Heart – Julius Hennington got exactly what he’d bargained

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Pre-order available now.

 

The Discarded Wife - Victorian London is a cruel place for a divorcee, but
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Amongst Silk and Spice - Sir Hugo Beauford had no idea what to
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He’d never had plans to travel as far east as Venice, let alone much farther

as this quest took more effort than he could have imagined - including

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