She had hoped that Bolton would have been that lover, but it was not meant to be.
Yes, she understood that he wished to indulge in as much debauchery as possible before he was forced to wed, but really, he made marriage sound more like a death sentence than a change in circumstance.
She blew out a sigh and glanced about Vauxhall Gardens. They had dined on paper-thin ham and drank tart lemonade, her sisters were dancing and as usual, Lavinia had decided to remain at home. At least Leopold had joined them along with Augustus, leaving Octavia free of chaperoning for the night since neither brother intended on leaving the box and making themselves available to the swarm of misses who were constantly glancing their way.
Several gentlemen had asked her to dance, and most she had rejected. Those she accepted were some that had been on the list of rakes Augustus had provided. The other rakes had also approached, and she strolled with them. When they attempted to lead her down a dark walk, Octavia had declined. She had no desire to allow a kiss with any of them, let alone anything more intimate and as the night continued, she had to accept that this would not be the Season of the rake but a Season no different from the others except she was now a widow instead of a married woman with an absent husband.
“I am concerned with your choice of partners for the evening,” Leopold said, intruding on her thoughts.
“Why is that?” she asked.
He moved to sit closer to her. “They have certain reputations that give me some concern.”
She wanted to laugh but was happy to know that he was at least aware. If he did not approve of them for her, then he certainly would not allow them to court Aurora or Sabina.
“I am aware,” she admitted. “They were also casting glances at our sisters. They have now been warned away.”
Her intention in dancing and strolling with them had been two-fold—to discourage and to see if they might suit for her, which they did not.
“I would have discouraged if they had approached either Aurora or Sabina.”
Yet he said nothing when they approached her. But, given her station, perhaps Leopold did not feel as protective. “Now they will not bother.” She smiled at him.
Octavia blew out another sigh and glanced about.
“What is the matter, Octavia?” Leopold asked.
“Nothing,” she answered then stood. “If you do not mind, I think I will take a stroll.”
“You really should not go off alone,” Leopold warned.
Octavia arched an eyebrow. “I am a widow, older than you. Worry about our younger sisters. Nothing will happen to me.”
It probably was not wise to walk on her own, but Octavia did not care.
Angelo had come to Vauxhall with Shrewsbury as neither were interested in attending a ball. He was too restless to be confined to a ballroom, nor did he wish to observe Octavia all evening, assuming they were to attend the same function, knowing that what he craved would never be.
Except, he hadn’t anticipated that she would be here instead.
At least her rules had not been broken. The tidbit this morning was exactly what he had hoped it would be—that he wasn’t trying to seduce her but sought her assistance in finding a bride.
But, if Society never saw them together again, would they return to believing that they had been lovers, or he attempted to be her lover and she rejected him?
It really didn’t matter, he supposed, so long as her reputation was not tarnished.
He had hoped that here he would find a widow who was willing to enjoy a night of pleasure without asking more.
There were several, but he had no interest.
Their attempts to engage him in conversation and suggestions of the dark walk had left him bored and not once did he experience the slightest stirring of desire.
Was something wrong with him?
It was a concern. He’d never gone this long without a lover, and during any other Season, he would have already disappeared into the shadows and likely been lifting a skirt.
It did not help that he had watched Octavia dance and walk with gentlemen who were also considered rakes. Each time they neared one of the darker paths, he had nearly held his breath, afraid that she might turn down one of them with a gentleman that was not him.
She had not, much to his relief.
