Yes, the pregnancy. “You like children?”
“Who doesn’t like children?”
There were probably quite a few who felt children were too tedious to deal with. One would think her father, but he did seem to enjoy his children’s antics. Perhaps how they’d been raised suited her brothers well, but for her, some would say an unseemly personality had been allowed to develop. “Horrible people,” he said, answering her question. It made her smile. She was so extraordinarily pretty when she smiled. It changed her so completely from the scowl he normally saw.
“Do you like children?” she asked.
“Are you trying to get me to admit I’m a horrible person?”
“I didn’t think that was still up for debate. You are the most horrid of men.” Her tone was light and teasing. “We still haven’t ruled out that divine justice tried to smite you.”
All he wanted to do right now was kiss her. The thought struck him suddenly. Unfortunately, he was too trussed up in the brace to do so, or was that fortunately? Well, this was a development.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, concern written on her face.
“Nothing.”
“You look concerned. I was jesting. I doubt God was trying to smite you, more that you are inordinately unlucky.”
“Unlucky enough to have to be rescued by you,” he replied snarkily. But was it unlucky? The earth had given away under him and he’d become her charge. Some could even argue that was a thunderclap from the divine. It’d changed his life entirely and put her in his path. Could there be a clearer message—if he believed in such things? Which he didn’t. No one in their right mind would say they got on. Not to mention that he wasn’t someone she’d chosen to bestow her attention on—except to try to chase him as far away from her family as possible.
“Some would say just desserts,” she said tartly with her arms crossed. He still wanted to kiss her. That slight pout to her lips wasn’t something she put on to be coy, but it drew his attention. He could imagine reaching for her and drawing her into a kiss, but with this brace, it would just be an awkward hash job. And really, stealing a kiss after she’d let him into her home, after she’d rescued him, was coarse.
The cold weather had gotten into his clothes. He wasn’t, after all, dressed for outside excursions, and she was less so. “We must go inside before chills are caught,” he said. He held his arm out and she stared at it for a moment before relenting and slipping her arm into the crook of his elbow as they slowly walked back down the length of the building. It was the most mundane touch they’d ever had, slowly walking side by side. It seemed so... normal. Not part of being hoisted or managed, or anything else that suggested he was an utter invalid.
“You have a very nice house too,” he said after a moment. “And I admit, it is very well run, even with your absence.”
“Thank you,” she replied. “I do have to see to things, even when I’m not here. According to my brothers and father all these things happen by magic. They don’t.”
“Are you saying I need a wife?”
“Men cannot possibly take care of themselves on their own. They simply aren’t built for it.”
Finn smiled. Frankly, he felt he’d managed well enough. Granted, many of the finer parts were ignored. Things may be a little more dusty, the meals lacking a certain refinement. If he wanted perfect service, a well-stocked wine cellar and exquisite food, he simply had to go to his club.
He cleared his throat. “I do like children, by the way. I just haven’t had much experience with them.” Even as he’d been younger, he’d been the only child in the house. Beside occasional encounters with the village children, he hadn’t really dealt with other children until he’d gone to school. Seeing the Henningtons, he wondered how different his life would have been if he’d had siblings.
Although, he wasn’t entirely certain why he was telling her this. Was he trying to disabuse her of some of her more abrasive assumptions about him?
The warmth inside was notable as soon as they walked in. Lord Hennington was still sitting with his paper, his pipe propped up in the ashtray beside him. Finn returned to the seat that seemed his now, while Octavia returned to the card table where she’d deserted a game of solitaire. He watched as she turned over the cards and then perused the configuration below her. It wasn’t challenging for her, more an amusing pastime. As she played, he watched, watched her fingers, which seemed so dainty and slim compared to his own, watched her breathe and the way it made the neckline of her dress that little bit tighter. Then the curl of dark hair that grazed her shoulder.
“Uh hum,” Lord Hennginton uttered beside him, clearing his throat. The harsh look suggested Finn had been caught observing the man’s daughter.
Finn couldn’t help his little smile. Yes, he’d been caught observing Octavia Hennington. She was lovely—once you got past the abrasiveness. Quite lovely.
Chapter 25
THE MAIL ARRIVED, WHICH only happened once a week, unless there was something urgent. Octavia sorted it while she sat in the breakfast room alone. Her father had taken himself off to his study after his morning meal. Lord Fortescue tended to spend the early mornings in his room, which was actually a gaming room that had been converted to quite a decent bedroom.
Business correspondence for her father, a few letters from her friends, and a package for Lord Fortescue from Dr. Peteson. It had to be his medicine, she guessed.
She could ask for it to be taken to him, but he was up. A breakfast
