Miss Octavia Insists (The Henningtons Book 2) Page 19

  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 mo
re 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.