Looking down, she saw Fortescue lying with the back of his wrist over his eyes. One of his knees rested on the side of the carriage and his body shook slightly with every bit of unevenness the carriage found. Still, he seemed much more relaxed in such a position of repose.
“I do wonder what Julius has brought back,” Melville said. “I’m sure he’ll stock the house with new treasures.” Julius did like curiosities, and he’d inherited some of their father’s interest in Roman history and antiquities.
“No doubt he will come back with a cart following him.”
“Or a second carriage to store Mrs. Hennington in,” Melville suggested.
Octavia shoved him with her wrist. “Don’t say that.”
“No, I shouldn’t. I might put off Lord Fortescue from marrying her sister.”
“That’s never going to happen,” Fortescue stated.
“Putting you off or marrying her?” Melville teased and Fortescue tsked.
“She will make someone a very happy man someday, I’m sure, but it will not be me.”
It was a curious statement, Octavia thought, and by no means wavering. He was firm in his statement, which meant he was stuck in the requirement of politeness in the face of Lydia’s interest.
“Although I suspect there’s a tenacious streak in the Forthill girls. They’ll only really give up when you marry someone else,” Melville continued. “They do come from a long line of military men, who don’t give up until the battle is truly lost.”
“Unfortunately, they aren’t the only ones.” A time or two, the interest in him as the right kind of man to marry was something he’d mentioned before, and Octavia had done some things to encourage that view.
“Unless you mingle with them, how are you going to find the right one?” she asked.
“It would be infinitely easier if they didn’t constantly present you with falsities,” Fortescue said.
“That is true. They’re so determined to present themselves as perfect angels, they hide every single thing about themselves. You meet the real person on the honeymoon.”
“Spoken like two men who cannot read a single thing about a person.”
“And how many times have you been disappointed, cousin?”
“That’s because I take the time to discover who people actually are. And granted, at such times, they are often disappointing.”
“We’re all the eternally disappointed people,” Melville said wistfully, but this was still all jest to him. Melville had no intention of marrying that Octavia had ever seen, but then men rarely did until such point as they were ready. And Fortescue was ready to be married. He simply didn’t enjoy the process of courting. Or perhaps it was simply that he was still in love with Eliza.
Heated annoyance spread up her spine at the thought. Not that he’d mentioned Eliza at all, or really asked about her in the time they had been at Wilkeston House.
It was a fine house and Eliza would probably have been very happy there, but he couldn’t have her. She belonged to Caius and they loved each other, so he would have to find his wife elsewhere. It was difficult to see Lydia and him together, however. Frankly, it was easier to see Julius and Cressida being well suited. But whatever Fortescue had sought with Eliza, it hadn’t been superficial or based on well-matched fortunes. He'd sought something else.
What was it about Eliza that had inspired such loyalty? What was it about her that had made her brother run to the end of the world at the loss of her? That was an admirable kind of loyalty, and if Octavia were honest, she craved such devotion. Instead, when she scratched the surface, she got ugliness, selfishness and even cowardice. Her princes turned into frogs.
One day, however, one of them wouldn’t.
Maybe Fortescue wouldn’t. She had now seen him at his very worst, and granted, he was a little selfish, a little rude, a little overbearing. Prideful, conceited, negligent. But she did admire the care he tried to show to Mr. Fuller—even if he’d shown a distinct lack of care for her brother’s marriage vows. They had been put at odds because she was loyal to Caius and he’d gone out of his way to show he wasn’t. It was only Eliza that stayed his advance. Fortescue didn’t give a toss what Caius thought about it, and Octavia couldn’t entirely forgive that. One did not forgive people who threatened family.
But if one believed that justice was divine, then Fortescue had been served severe retribution. Perhaps a little too severe for the crime. Something about his loyalty and determination was admirable. He’d just aimed it in an unfortunate direction.
*
They had to spend the night at an inn due to the slowness of the journey, but they had figured out how to help Lord Fortescue in and out of the carriage, and it involved him placing his hands on both their shoulders while he descended. It was interesting to note how much one needed the flexibility in one’s back for everyday tasks. Without it, many things became awkward, if not impossible.
After eating, he rested until the moment they had to leave again the next day—again preferring the position of lying down across the bench. It was a half days’ journey to get to Denham Hall. Fortescue was tired when they arrived home, and she helped him into the room that had been prepared for him on the ground floor.
He slept the rest of the day and didn’t join them for supper. Apparently, Julius’ ship was landing in Dover in a few days, so it would probably be a week before he appeared.
In all, it was nice to be home again. Melville left the next day to return to his friends. He’d been imposed on long enough, and being as she was safely under her father’s roof, he was relieved of chaperoning duty. The attraction of his life back in London drew him
