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.
Miss Octavia Insists (The Henningtons Book 2) Page 7
