Ugh, why did she feel so terrible? It felt as though her stomach was twisting itself upside down.
“What I do know,” Eliza said, “is that men don’t always act rationally.”
“Fortescue has never been rational.” That was perhaps an unfair statement. Normally, he was rational in all things. It was just today that he hadn’t been rational, and Octavia didn’t know what to do about it. It wasn’t as if she could undo anything that had happened, and it wasn’t as if she should wish to undo it.
The prince was interested in her. It was pretty clear, and he was a lovely man. Funny, intelligent, witty, even a little naughty. Exactly why he was interested in her, she wasn’t sure. They just got on well. Maybe he liked that she didn’t pander to him sycophantically like so many others seemed to do. But then who knew why anyone was interested in another person? Can such things be explained?
But Fortescue was thorny and abrasive, and argumentative above all else.
“Well, you’re going to have to marry one of them,” Eliza said.
“What?! Who said anything about marriage?” Unease gripped her stomach again.
“If not Fortescue, then the prince certainly is. And Lord Fortescue, I don’t think he would be this upset if he didn’t have hopes for you.”
“Maybe he’s just being irrational,” Octavia said curtly. She didn’t want to talk about this, so she was acting petulantly.
“All being said, he’s not a bad catch,” Eliza continued.
“Who are you talking about now?”
“Lord Fortescue.”
“Only someone insane would consider marrying him.”
“Well, it would have to be someone who loves him. He deserves no less.”
Eliza would think that. The man walked on water to hear her tell it. But that was the problem. Gratitude. Eliza still had gratitude for the kindnesses he’d shown her when no one else had. And Fortescue was grateful for the kindness he’d been shown. “People should be less kind,” Octavia stated and received a deeply confused look from Eliza. “It clearly confuses people.”
*
“The British do have a distinct style,” Frederich said as they slowly walked down the length of the wall, admiring the paintings on display at the British Museum.
“Yes, I suppose. The same could be said for other countries. The Dutch certainly have their style. It makes you wonder about the psyche of the culture. The Dutch must be very dark.”
Frederich leaned closer to her. “And the British are very pompous.”
“One cannot argue such a blatant truth,” she had to admit. Across the room, Julius and Cressida wandered with Lydia in tow. Endlessly the Forthill girls threw her scathing looks. They blamed her entirely for the prince’s interest in her and not Lydia. Not in the least blaming Lydia’s inane statements whenever he spoke to her.
“We have a good collection,” Frederich went on. “Mostly German and Italian. Some Danish, too. They are more casual in tone. I like them.”
“I can’t say I’m all that familiar with Danish art.”
“What have you been doing with yourself?” he asked with a smile and a shake of his head.
“I have two troublesome brothers and a quarrelsome father. It’s enough to deal with without bringing Danish art into bearing.”
“From that perspective, I see your point. Families are quarrelsome to some degree or other, but it’s a treasure when there is also love and respect.” The prince seemed to enjoy the dynamics between them. “This is a beautiful picture,” he said, stopping at a landscape portrait.
“It looks like it was painted in the Lakes District. It is very beautiful.”
“There is a lake in Bavaria I would like to show you, close to my house. I think I will invite your brother and father to visit. Would you come?”
“Of course,” she said. “If this lake is worth seeing, I’ll take you at your word.”
Her answer pleased him, but something inside her felt as if she was sitting on a runaway horse. Things were happening too fast for her to understand. Inviting her and her family was a significant indication of his interest. Julius would be ecstatically happy about this development. In fact, there was a notion of panic coming over her. Not that she objected to Frederich. In their time together, he had not disappointed her once. Nothing of what he presented of himself came across as false or emphasized. Perhaps because he didn't have to. There was nothing he needed to prove or bolster. And he seemed to accept her for the person she was.
Meanwhile, Lydia had tried so very hard to convince him that she was actually angelic, and to her chagrin, he showed no interest. In terms of dressing them down for their arrogant and ungenerous behavior, Octavia felt they were put in their place. There were qualities more valued than status, and those qualities couldn’t be dampened.
“It would be delightful,” she said. Fundamentally, she didn’t object to this man, and seeing where he was from would be very interesting. Marrying him would mean leaving England. It was a significant commitment. Obviously, it wouldn’t be as if she would never see London again. “I understand Bavaria has more treasures than its lakes.”
“That is true. It would be my pleasure to show you my home.”
As the panic settled, there was excitement there. This could potentially be her husband, and he wouldn’t be a bad catch—and that wasn’t based on him being a prince. He was a lovely man.
“And I’m enjoying this time in England more than I expected to, and you are the cause of that.”
“Thank you,” she said, feeling a blush stain her cheeks. His compliments were utterly direct, which was something she wasn’t quite
