“That is entirely unreasonable.”
“The crux of the surprise.”
Throughout this exchange, he was watching her as they took their places. Carnarvon's Jig, it turned out.
“Well, you will be pleased to know that I am under strict orders to be charming to the princely von Zweibrücken. Julius is trying inordinately hard to impress him, and as a result, I only insulted him half as much as I normally would.”
“I’m sure the man was utterly delighted.” Sadly, the man had looked like he’d been delighted.
“Do you not like him?” That teasing look was back in his eyes.
“I have no emotion to him at all. But I do think you should be careful. Men like him do sometimes feel entitled to the things they want.”
“I suspect you are greatly exaggerating my charms.”
“You are perfectly able to charm anyone you set your intention on.”
“Have I charmed you?”
“Have you tried?”
“Of course not,” she said defensively. “And rest assured, I bend to no man’s sense of entitlement.”
“Good,” he found himself saying. The truth was that he had no claim or influence on her whatsoever. “Speaking as a friend.”
“I am all curious what a friendship with the aloof Lord Fortescue entails.”
What did it entail? It wasn't something he could readily answer, because he didn’t know. “Loyalty, perhaps.”
Every touch of her hand to his he felt. That sensation wasn’t friendship—it was something more profound. If he grabbed her and kissed her right here, he would cause such a scandal, which was exactly what he wanted to do. It may even result in him gaining her, but it would spur Julius to defend her honor, and she would be angry with him, probably for the rest of his life. An uncouth desire in him urged him to do it, a sense of entitlement exactly like the one he’d just warned her of. Not to mention it would be a notorious action that would follow both of them for the rest of their lives.
But then he’d just stated he was her friend, and a friend would never do such a thing as to take her choices away from her.
Perhaps it was time he acknowledge something he hadn’t fully voiced yet. He was in love with Octavia Hennington. He sought to rile her, to goad her, to listen to her and to soothe her, all at the same time. His thoughts were on her incessantly, and all the things about her that he’d found so deeply annoying had started to charm him. Particularly her abrasiveness—largely because there were no falsities there. She expressed what she felt—probably too readily.
The steps were coming to a conclusion. This dance was finishing much too fast. And then it was over. That had to be the only time when he hadn’t wished a dance would end, but now he had to lead her back—return her to where he’d found her.
As he stopped he drew her in a little too close, simply enjoying her nearness and scent. “As to what we just discussed,” he said quietly so only she could hear. She was so very close, but he could not touch her. “Yes, I have been charmed by you.”
He wasn’t sure there was any way he could be plainer. But he had been inappropriate too long and he stepped away from her. Her eyes were on the floor, which was unusual for her. Perhaps she didn’t agree with his sentiment. It was so hard to tell when he couldn’t look her in the eyes. Normally he could tell exactly what she was feeling, but she was shielding her thought from him.
Feeling deeply uneasy, he walked away. He had to. Propriety required it. Perhaps she did too. But his heart beat heavily and a sense of dread washed over him. It was that dread when something, or rather someone, became very meaningful to him. Because caring for someone made it excruciating when you lost them, and it was all he’d ever known.
This wasn’t something he’d chosen. With Eliza, he’d chosen it. He'd considered her and determined she was an excellent woman. But with Octavia, this had taken him by surprise. No choice had been given, and now his hands shook and he extended his fingers repeatedly to dissipate this unease.
He didn’t know what to do with himself, so he took himself off to the card tables, because he needed something a bit stiffer than fine French champagne.
“A whiskey,” he said to the man serving the table and sat down at a spare seat.
“Are you in, Fortescue?” a man asked and Finn nodded absently. Taking a deep breath, he sat back. It wasn’t every day he informed a woman he intended on courting her, but it was done now. Never had he been this nervous about it. What was that a sign of? It certainly wasn’t a sign of second thought, because he had none. He wanted her. And yes, it was a surprise, but so was how strongly he wanted her.
“Are you having a good evening?” the man asked. Finn vaguely recognized him.
“It is an excellent night.” A night that potentially established his entire future. Obviously, someone like Octavia wasn’t going to fall at his feet in gratitude. She liked to be charmed herself, flirted with, adored and cherished, and he would do all those things. Provided she would simply agree that he was someone whose attention she accepted. Dealing with her wasn’t easy. At the heart, it wasn’t wealth and social standing she sought, but something else entirely. It required integrity and honesty. A façade wasn’t going to impress her. Her discourse was on a much deeper level. People mistook that for her simply not grasping the finer points of etiquette. Those people didn’t understand her at all.
Chapter
