“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
