Except, he was still expected to look for a wife, even if he was only making the effort for his mother and not himself.
Chapter 12
The last place Octavia wished to go tonight was to a ball. She wanted to remain home, even though this was the very place she had wished to escape from earlier.
It could be the weather, or it could be because Angelo sat across from her, slightly damp, not put to rights and his cravat askew.
He wanted her to call him Angelo, but she did not dare. If she let the name slip in a public setting, then the rule of discretion would be broken and the gossips would likely determine that they were more than friends, as he had tried to claim in the bookshop.
“I do believe I will also skip the ball,” he announced.
Did he intend to remain with her for the remainder of the evening?
“It is still pouring, and I do not wish to venture out in the rain again.”
“I promise, I shall not make you leave until the weather has improved.”
He grinned and leaned forward. “What if it rains all through the night?”
Her body heated, but Octavia would not respond. “I am certain that it will not.” She took another sip of her tea. “Besides, you should put in an appearance.”
“Why?”
“You are seeking a wife this Season and the gossips overheard our discussion at Hatchard’s, and likely watched us get into the same hackney. If we both miss the ball, they may spread rumors and neither one of us wishes to see our initials once again in the newssheets.”
“If you attended, we could share a dance,” he suggested.
“I have not the vigor, Lord Bolton,” Octavia admitted. “It takes little time for a gentleman to be put to rights. I however, would need to spend far more time simply for my hair to be presentable, let alone the rest of me.”
His eyes grew dark. “I think you are quite beautiful with your hair falling freely about your shoulders, curling delightfully, especially the one about your breast.”
Her face heated as she glanced down and she quickly brushed the hair behind her shoulders.
“I concede. Preparing for a ball is far much easier for a gentleman and as we both wish to be forgotten, I will attend on the behalf of us both.”
“Thank you, Lord Bolton.”
“I do wish you would call me Angelo.”
“Yes, I know you do, Lord Bolton.”
He chuckled. “Now what might rule six be?”
He was not going to relent until he knew them all, though most of the remaining rules did not apply to Angelo. Yet, a few did, and she was not willing to alter them for anyone. Perhaps that was why she withheld them as she knew that once Lord Bolton knew what she required, they would part ways.
“Rule six,” she said. “Avoid younger gentlemen. Again, another rule that does not apply to you.” At least she didn’t believe it did as she knew they were born the same year.
“I am afraid it does,” Lord Bolton offered with sadness. “I was born three months after you.”
She snorted. “Then I guess there is nothing to be done for it. Rule two has yet to be repaired, which threatens rule one, and as the month of our births cannot be changed, you will not be my lover.” She smiled sweetly. “Though I thank you for the interest.”
Bolton set his cup and saucer on the table and leaned forward. “A younger gentleman just may be what you need.” His tone was low, husky and goosepimples erupted along her arms. “Virile,” he added.
Goodness, it was growing warm.
“I will be honest, the rules do allow for a younger gentleman, as long as it is not more than a year or two.”
He placed his hand over his heart. “I am much relieved. But why a limit on age.”
