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, s
topping 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.”
Miss Octavia Insists (The Henningtons Book 2) Page 17
