Miss Octavia Insists (The Henningtons Book 2) Read online

  “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.”

&n
bsp; 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 did
n’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.