Miss Octavia Insists (The Henningtons Book 2) Page 3

  “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 fri
ends 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.