Chapter 37
AS FINN CAME AROUND TO seeing Denham Hall out the window of his carriage, he recalled how weak he’d been the last time he’d come here. Octavia had taken him home because she hadn’t known what else to do with him. And in a short time, his life had changed dramatically. Now he was trying to take her home. Although they seemed to know exactly what to do with each other now.
Drawing breath, he exhaled the tension in him. There was nothing to suggest this would go badly. Octavia seemed to think her father would approve the match, but one never knew with fathers.
Since he’d been here last, the foliage had all fallen, leaving slumbering trees and a frosty lawn. It was close to midday and frost still sat in the places that still remained in shadow.
The wind was icy as he stepped out of the carriage. A footman Finn recognized from before appeared on the stoop, looking perfectly reserved despite the cold. “Lord Fortescue, this is quite the surprise. Did you send word you were coming?”
“No, there wasn’t time. It’s only a quick visit. I wish to see Lord Hennington when he has the time to see me.”
“Please come in. The parlor is warm, but very little else is in the house right now. I’ll inform his lordship that you are here.”
“Please,” Finn said, hiding the fact that his nerves were asserting themselves. The parlor was warm when he was led it. Finn guessed this was where Lord Hennington spent much of his time through winter. A fire roared in the grate and his empty reading chair sat in front of it. The weather made it darker than when he’d seen it before.
The man disappeared and Finn stood by the fire, letting it chase away some of the cold from sitting in the carriage for hours.
“We have a visitor, I hear,” said the familiar voice of Lord Hennington. “It is rare indeed. One of the blessings of winter. No visitors and no infernal children.” The man took his seat and indicated to another chair. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Intelligent eyes studied him as the old man waited patiently for Finn to decide which version of the ones he’d practiced he would launch into.
“Yes, I wished to speak to you. This may come as a surprise, or not, but over time, your daughter and I—”
“Octavia,” Lord Hennington filled in.
“—have come to an understanding.”
Lord Hennington raised one of his eyebrows and almost looked unimpressed. “You have come to ask for my daughter’s hand, I take it.”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“Because from what I hear, there are a few interested in my daughter’s hand. She is beautiful and well provisioned for. Quite a few see her as a prize.”
As opposed to what Octavia believed, it might just be that from the father’s point of view, he’d held hopes for more of a royal spouse for his daughter.
“My prospects are settled and steady, and not insignificant,” Finn said. But it wasn’t a royal title. “And your daughter and I have grown to care for each other.”
The man pointedly raised his eyebrow again. “I take it Octavia knows you are here?”
“I told her I would travel to see you, and to ask for her hand.” His hands felt clammy and his neckerchief a little too tight, but he refused to fidget. It had been a long time since he’d been nervous like this.
“And is Julius aware of this development?”
“No. Well, I don’t know. Octavia might have told him.”
“So this agreement was done without the knowledge of my son?”
“Yes.”
“And do you think he would approve the match?”
“I expect that he perhaps had hopes for another.”
“And you swooped in and stole her.”
“I’m not sure how much swooping and stealing can be done with Octavia unless she desires it.”
Lord Hennington twisted his head slightly. “That is probably true. And as you came here, I take it you are complicit in this match. To be completely frank, with some, I would perhaps wonder if that were the case. My daughter can be forceful.”
Finn expected the man would probably not appreciate how enthusiastically she embraced the man she wanted.
“I have found that your daughter’s intentions are usually admirable.”
“Ha!” Lord Hennington said. “I do think you might be in love with my daughter.”
“The description is perhaps accurate.”
The man considered him for a while longer. “Octavia would not make an easy wife. Nothing about her has been easy from the day she was born, but she is a sweet girl if one looks close enough.
“Then I will give you my approval, for I will not hear the end of it if I don’t. You may marry my daughter. But if you do not intend on making her happy, then I suggest you cry off. Octavia is relentless when she feels something isn’t right. A man saves himself a world of trouble by choosing an easy wife.”
“But it would be nowhere near as exciting.”
“May you never fall out of love.”
She was the one to always keep him challenged and on his toes. It was his greatest wish to make her happy. He was curious to see how she would grow and change with the years, how she would be as a mother. She would make an excellent mother, and their children wouldn’t be drab creatures, but nourished and cared for. He couldn’t wait to meet them too. These people would be the ones that his life revolved around, the ones he woke up in the morning for and strove to protect. If they were at all like Octavia, it would be
