Miss Octavia Insists (The Henningtons Book 2)

by Camille Oster

  “Thank you,” she said, feeling a blush stain her cheeks. His compliments were utterly direct, which was something she wasn’t quite used to. Lord Fortescue’s grudgingly given compliments came to mind, as if they had to be dragged out of him like petulant mules. The thought made her smile.

  “But my life is not all pleasure and enjoyment,” he said. “Unfortunately, I must agree to the requisite royal visitations. I have to leave London for a few days.”

  “That sounds positively dreadful,” she teased.

  “Well, it is slow, with a lot of sitting and smiling with people you don’t really know but are invariably related to. So in a sense, they are family, and it would be rude to not see them. I haven’t met the British Queen before, but I have met her husband many times. A good man.”

  “Then I wish you a tolerable visit. Dress warmly. I hear Windsor Castle is terribly cold and drafty.”

  “Fear not. Old, cold and drafty I am used to. It will be my pleasure to see you at the Admiral’s Ball.”

  “Of course. I look forward to it.” She wouldn’t miss it for the world, even if she wanted to. Julius wouldn’t let her. Not that she would attend it because Julius wanted her to. Her regard for the prince was entirely separate from her brother’s enthusiasm for the match.

  Also, she wondered if Lord Fortescue would be there. Renewed unease twisted her gut. For some reason, she didn’t want him to see how it was between her and the prince. Somehow, it felt as though she was doing something wrong, when in reality, she really wasn’t.

  This unease needed to stop, but she didn’t know how to address it.

  Chapter 33

  THE CLUB HAD BECOME a safe haven for him, where he didn’t get introduced to anyone’s daughter, and the men had stopped inviting him on behalf of their wives. Once was enough. Beyond that was unseemly, and everyone, more or less, stuck to that edict. It also distracted him from his own thoughts, which were a little morose for his liking.

  Whatever he did, he could not shake the persistent thoughts of his last encounter with Octavia. There was no reason why he should feel so betrayed, but he did. She had every right to receive anyone she liked, and she clearly enjoyed this prince’s company. In darker moments, he wondered if it was the man’s title she adored. Marrying him would make her both wealthy and powerful. The women who were always trying to tear her down would have to bow to her. Anyone had to feel the justice in that.

  So it wasn’t that he begrudged her success, but underneath, the part of him that couldn’t be reasoned with still felt betrayed. Maybe the feeling would give one day, or maybe it wouldn’t. He hoped it did, because there was a part of his unconscious mind that was screaming in panic, as if there was something he could do to fix this. The more logical part of him felt that if she was even so much as unsure, this was not the pairing for him. He didn’t want messiness, or compromises. He wanted someone who wanted him wholeheartedly, and that was not the situation he was in.

  Fortescue greeted people as they passed, but he didn’t invite anyone into conversation. One of the best things about the club was that it wasn’t required. Respect was given to those seeking a quiet night.

  Exactly when had he become the person seeking silence and solitude? When he’d started seriously considering women. Battles from which he’d come off worse for wear, and so far, it didn’t even include marriage.

  The following night was the Admiral’s Ball. The Earl of Egmont threw a ball every year, that was one of the larger events of the season. He'd already responded to the invitation, so he felt he had to make an appearance. At this point, he also felt that he needed to stop running away from the discomfort of scheming mavens and dashed hopes. Octavia was a part of the society in which he mixed. It was a simple fact, at least until she married and moved to the continent. Until then, he would simply have to accept that there were places where he would see her.

  Finishing his port in the smoking room, he decided he’d had enough for the evening and chose to walk home. It was chilly outside, but he relished the briskness. It felt as if he had settled something for himself. He knew why he was there, to find his wife and companion, and he needed to pursue that aim. Disappointment was his to bear and he would do so, but his search for someone who wanted to be with him had to continue. What other option was there? Retreat to his estate and live like a hermit out of spite for not getting what he wanted? It simply wasn’t to be his. She wasn’t to be his. And as disappointing as that was, it could not define him. Compared to a long and happy marriage, this loss would fade.

  It might not feel like it just then, but he was known for being pragmatic. The search had to continue.

  *

  The Admiral’s ball was well attended. In fact, it was probably too well attended. It was downright crowded. The large ballroom was loud and hot. Seats were at a premium and reserved for the elderly. Even so, people insisted on being here, and considering it now, he wasn’t sure what in the world had made him accept this invitation.

  That was a lie. It had been the prospect of seeing Octavia. This had been before their new understanding. And now, he was here out of pride for not running away, even if that was exactly what he wanted to do.

  So, he let himself be introduced to the young ladies related to the people he knew. There was no shortage of eligible young women. What he feared was that he wouldn’t feel affinity with any of them. A few of them he danced with. The conversation was perfectly fine, the young women were well trained in the art. They were beautiful, with impeccable manners.

  All he wanted was some spark to indicate there could be something more, something real. And it was deeply unfair to compare them to Octavia’s vivaciousness.

  He flatly forbade himself to search for her. No doubt, she was here somewhere, being well attended to by her Bavarian prince.

  A spear of utter loneliness struck him. It felt as though he had found his very best friend and now had to leave the friendship behind. He just wanted his own people, people who belonged with him. A family.

  Granted, the process of getting one was exceedingly painful. As were his toes that a man just stepped on. In all seriousness, he had to find a wife so he never had to do this again.

  “Lord Fortescue,” a familiar voice said and he cringed a little on the inside. Octavia had found him. Could she not have simply passed him by without drawing his attention? There were enough people to do so.

  “Miss Hennington. A delight to see you.” And she was alone, walking through the crowd. “I hope you’re enjoying the evening.”

  “It’s a fine evening, if one likes excessively crowded balls. I have to say there is a certain comfort element in exclusivity.”

  Finn felt awkward. And it was hard to hear her. They had to stand much closer than preferred.

  “Saying that, I suspect it will thin out considerably in an hour. Many of our more honorable attendees won’t be able to tolerate this for long.”

  “I think I might count myself amongst them.”

  “Are you honorable now?” she asked, that teasing glint in her eyes. How easily she drew him in, but he couldn’t allow himself to be drawn into her banter anymore. No one who heard them would say it was flirtatious, but in reality, it very much was.

  “I hope you have a wonderful evening,” he said with a small bow of his head, effectively ending the conversation.

  “There is more room on the dance floor,” she said. “It seems it’s the only place with enough room to converse.”

  “I can’t dance with you, Miss Hennington.”

  “Whyever not?”

  Finn didn’t know how to answer. Didn’t want to answer. He certainly wasn’t going to torture himself by dancing with her. It felt too... masochistic.

  “I would like us to be friends,” she said, her hand touching the jacket on his forearm. A gesture he noticed.

  “I can’t be friends with you,” he said, barely able to make himself look at her, but he forced himself to. There was concern in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”<
br />
  The last thing he needed was a friendship with the person he was in love with. Something that continued on and on, constantly giving and dashing hope. It would distract him for years, probably well into her marriage. It wouldn’t serve him at all, because it would be a place where he’d be too on edge to be happy, but too comfortable to leave.

  “Good evening,” he said with another quick bow and he drew himself away and didn’t look back. His heart beat with the finality of it. It did feel final. The end of his entanglement with Miss Octavia Hennington. The one that had devastated him to a degree he hadn’t thought possible. In all, none of it was her fault. She’d done nothing wrong. He’d fallen in love with her, and it wasn’t for her to reciprocate simply because he wanted her to.

  There was one more young lady he was obliged to dance with, but beyond that, he couldn’t tolerate this anymore. He’d come, he’d done what he had to do—had proven what he needed to. He’d also ended any continued entanglement with Octavia—probably the whole Hennington family.

  Perhaps it would be better if he attended smaller gatherings. Ideally not in the Hennington social circle. It shouldn’t prove too difficult. There wasn’t a shortage of eligible young women. He simply had to get to know a few. Sooner or later, he would find someone steadfast, intelligent and reasonable. It certainly didn’t need to be someone who made quite the impact that Octavia did. Most importantly, he wanted someone who wanted him back. It wasn’t too much to ask for, was it?

  Now if he could just find Miss Rose Merton so he could free himself from the last obligation for the evening. In all honesty, he even felt like visiting some of his old haunts. It wasn’t a night to go home and sulk. There had been too much of brooding and reflection of late. Too much by far. Perhaps what he needed was a few drinks with people intent on being merry.

  Chapter 34

  OCTAVIA PACED IN THE quiet salon. It was early even as she’d returned home quite late last night. Her sleep had been horrible and her head ached. In all, it hadn’t been a terribly pleasant evening. The prince had been his typical self, and she’d enjoyed his company, even as neither of them had particularly enjoyed the evening. But that hadn’t been the entirety of her lack of enjoyment.

  Soft steps approached and she knew it was Eliza, who looked surprised seeing Octavia there. “I would have thought you would still be asleep. How was it?”

  “Horrible. You chose wisely in not coming. It was incredibly crowded. Both hot and loud. None of us came away without bruises from someone’s elbow in our side or back.”

  “Are you sure that wasn’t Cressida?” Eliza asked sweetly. On the surface, Eliza was always sweet and calm, but at times, there was that glint of mischief in her. It must have been one of the many reasons Caius loved her. At times, Octavia wondered if Eliza didn’t downright enjoy her new sister-in-law's overt pettiness.

  “Fortescue refuses to be friends with me,” Octavia blurted out. This had sat with her all night, and she couldn’t reconcile herself with it. “He plain said that we cannot be friends and he wished me all the best for my future. Plain as face.”

  Eliza pressed her lips together and released them. It almost seemed as if she wasn’t surprised by this.

  “I suppose that is his punishment.”

  “I don’t think it’s a punishment,” Eliza said.

  “It feels like it is.”

  “I think he simply needs distance and you should respect that,” Eliza said, sitting down just as Mr. James brought in a tea service.

  “Are you not eating this morning?” Octavia asked, concern lacing her voice.

  “A little later, I think. Come have some tea.”

  “So we simply avoid each other from now on? Is that what he has in mind?”

  “I suspect he will not make it difficult to do so,” she said with a small smile.

  It was hard for Octavia not to feel upset about this. After everything she’d done for him, this felt a little like a punch in the gut. Obviously, she kind of understood. She had herself cut off people she’d felt there was no future with. And normally, she wouldn’t care if someone did the same to her. It was a practical thing to do, but this felt more severe.

  Chances were that she’d never see him again. It wouldn’t be for a long time, anyway. He would ensure it. His appearance would not happen again at the large balls and society events. All to avoid her. It felt... devastating. That was the word for it. It felt devastating, as if she’d lost a very close friend, because he did seem to know her in ways other people didn’t. When she spoke, he listened—he understood her intentions. And now he cut her off.

  All because he didn’t approve of the prince!

  That was unfair and she wasn’t being honest about the real reason behind this. It was an issue she didn’t really want to face. He cared about her, more than as a friend. And because of that, he couldn’t be friends with her.

  Sad and distressed was how she felt. More than she ever had before. Which was probably why she was behaving quite childishly. She did not want this. Neither did she want him to stop caring about her, which was exactly what he was trying to do. Her absence would lead to him stopping caring about her, and then his attention would turn elsewhere. Nausea rolled her stomach.

  “I think it’s best you just let him go,” Eliza said beside her and Octavia bristled at the statement. Of course it was a reasonable request. She just didn’t want to be reasonable. “Let us talk about Prince Frederich instead.”

  “Drat Prince Frederich,” Octavia uttered without fully meaning to. Right now, she didn’t even want to think of him. Of course she liked him. What was there not to like about him? But the truth was that dealing with him... everything seemed less pressing and distant. The likelihood of a match between them was a distant thing, a very uncertain thing. It was flattering that he liked her, and she liked him in return. This affection between themwas fun and light, but it didn’t feel… raw.

  It was that very rawness she was steering clear of, because it felt both compelling and threatening. In the very heart of her, she knew Fortescue could break her heart if she let him. And his confusion between real feelings and gratitude would lead them down that path. What she’d done had been sensible. Navigated a fine line where they would still have the friendship, but not veer into heartbreak. It had been the perfect balance, the safe balance, but he wasn’t having it.

  Eliza was silent for a while. “If that is how you feel, maybe you shouldn’t encourage him to woo you.”

  That wasn’t what Octavia meant. This was how misunderstandings so easily arose. “I never said I don’t take his interest seriously. It’s a flirtation. Nothing is assured with it.”

  Flirtation was something she’d had to be very careful with when dealing with Fortescue, because flirtation would lead to kissing, which would lead to marriage before either of them had had a moment to think about it. Gratitude and affection would spur things on so smoothly and quickly, neither of them would have time to ask if it was the right thing.

  “But you are interested in marrying him?” Eliza said.

  “As I said, it is merely a flirtation. For all we know, he may not be free to marry as he wishes.”

  Eliza shifted in her seat. “Then you are not serious about him.” There was accusation in her voice.

  “I am very seriously considering seeing how this goes. Why does everyone expect me to marry without ever determining if the person are right for me? I won’t apologize for it,” Octavia said and stood. "Once again, I feel like I’m being pushed to do things I don’t feel I’ve had the time to determine is right. Like marry the first interested man of reasonable social standing. Who cares what the quality of the marriage would be like, or how well they were actually matched? No,” she said sharply. “I am not marrying him simply because he’s a prince, but yes, I am exploring whether he is a man I could marry, and please don’t assume that just because he flirts with me that he’s ready to propose. That is naive and foolhardy. I’m allowed to actually know the per
son I marry.” It wasn’t simply Eliza she was aiming this at, but Julius and Cressida, and Fortescue. And everyone who had more than a passing interest in this prince and how beneficial it would be to the family. Also to all the people who kept asking her when she was going to allow herself to marry. Everyone questioned her intentions, trying to find some plan to deceive in her actions.

  “Octavia,” Eliza called. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  Right now, she needed some air and a bit of peace, so she ventured into the garden, which was downright cold. The plants were slumbering and the grass was covered in frost.

  For a while, Lord Fortescue had been the one who hadn’t pressed her constantly. Until things changed and he started pressing for himself. And now, he refused to have anything to do with her.

  With a sigh, she sat down on the bench. The cold of it seeped through her dress, but she didn’t care. The coldness soothed her temper too.

  It was inexcusable losing her temper like that. It just felt as if everything was overwhelming her all at once. Things were happening that she didn’t want. Well, Fortescue walking away from her was the thing she didn’t want, and Eliza telling her to simply let him go.

  The truth was that she’d taken him for granted. No, that wasn’t accurate. She’d placed him in a safe place, where she got to enjoy the parts of him she liked, but stayed clear of the dangerous parts—the parts that would either break her heart or lead her into marriage, probably in very short order.

  If she let him, he would kiss her, and he had no desire to go slow. A mere kiss and her entire future could be set, and there would be no time to ensure his feelings were true, and not just an echo of the gratitude he felt.

  None of these things would be resolved by him never seeing her again.

  With a sigh, she considered what she wanted. Did she want to never speak to him again? No, of course not. Did she want to marry him?