“No, but you are looking for a wife, so do you not believe it is just as bad form to be seeking a temporary lover instead of settling a future?”
“I do not,” he answered honestly.
The more Lady Kepple rebuked him, the more Angelo wanted her.
His desire for her was not in doubt, but was he becoming obsessed because she continued to refuse him?
She stopped and turned to him. “Why are you at The Bazaar today, Lord Bolton. Or do you simply wish to annoy me.”
“Annoy!” he exclaimed, placing a hand over his heart. “I am here but to find a gift for my mother. You are the one who has distracted me from my task.”
She arched a dark eyebrow. “I did no such thing. You approached me.”
“When a gentleman comes across a lady as beautiful as you, he cannot be expected to ignore her.”
This time Octavia snorted and turned away from him and continued to follow her sisters. “Your silver tongue may work on younger females, or the more gullible, but it shall not work on me, Lord Bolton.”
“You do not believe me?” he asked in surprise.
“I believe you will say what you wish in order to gain what you want.”
He leaned closer. “What would that be?” He wanted her to say that he wished for her to be his lover, to hear it from her lips and then agree to be such, but knew that it would not be said, and Angelo wondered if she ever would.
“I shall not voice it in a public venue, but you know as well as I, to what I refer.”
“Ah,” he shook his head sadly. “As you will not grant me my deepest wish, would you be kind enough to assist me with another matter.”
Octavia’s eyebrows drew together as she looked at him with suspicion in her light blue eyes. “What would that be?”
“Help me choose a shawl for my mother.”
She pulled back, her mouth slightly agape and Angelo had to fight from grinning. This might be the first time that he had surprised her.
“Please,” he added.
“Is this a ruse?”
Again, Angelo placed a hand over his heart. “I assure you that it is not. Her birthday is but a few days away and I know she would appreciate a new shawl.”
“I do not know your mother, only of her,” Octavia insisted.
“You know what she looks like, thus, you should be able to choose one that flatters her hair and eyes better than me.” That was a lie because he was very good at determining which shades looked the best on any woman given he’d been a study of them since he first realized females could be the most enjoyable of companions. But he needed to offer a reason for Octavia so that she would remain by his side.
“Very well,” she blew out as if this were an inconvenience, which he was certain it was not. If it were, she would have rejected his request as she had rejected every other. Of course, those had to do with becoming her lover, far more scandalous than choosing a shawl.
“While we are looking, why don’t you tell me what rule number four is.”
“I do not see why these rules should matter to you. Two has been broken, which borders on the first one being broken as well.”
“The first one is not broken yet and it is likely more interesting gossip will come along and we will be forgotten.”
“I do not see why it matters.”
“Because you are in need of a lover and I am offering myself,” he whispered.
“I have also rejected your offer,” she returned quietly and with a tight smile.
“You have not truly given me the opportunity to prove to you that I can be the most attentive lover.”
