“It does happen, you know.”
“Yes, I have heard of such, but I haven’t even felt the slightest stirrings of such in any encounter with a marriageable female.”
Octavia set her fork aside. “Have you ever spent much time with one? More than a turn about a room or a dance?”
Angelo frowned then took a sip of his wine. “Well, no. I saw no need.”
“Only when you spend time in conversation, such as a walk in Hyde Park, or better yet, visiting in her home where the eyes and ears of the ton are not paying close attention, then you will know. Or, you will at least come to know her, or many misses, until you find the one that is for you.”
“Yes, I understand, but when it comes time to make the decision, I wish it to be quick and settled. I do not want to waste countless hours visiting every miss in London until I finally settle upon one. There must be an easier way than what you are proposing.”
“Either you want quick, easy and an empty marriage. Or you wish to put in the time to come to know a miss, truly know her as in her favorite flower, color, author, discuss politics even, and find out what she thinks on any matter that is of interest to you. That is when you will know if you will have a full, happy, and possibly passionate marriage.”
Octavia couldn’t decide if she was angry or sad for Angelo.
There was certainly jealousy, which she wished to ignore. When she started out wanting him as her lover, she knew they could be nothing more, nor would their association last for long, but she was jealous of the woman that he would one day marry, and all that she would enjoy. Not only conversations but intimacy. She’ll know what it is like to be worshipped while the world slept. To know pleasure beyond imagination and to be able to fall asleep in his arms each evening.
At least, she assumed that would be the case. Her parents hadn’t shared a bedchamber, nor had Octavia shared one with her husband. But, if Angelo was that husband, she’d not want to sleep away from him.
The footman stepped forward and removed their first course and the second was placed before them.
Octavia managed to eat a few bites but did not force any more food down her throat. There wasn’t enough room given her stomach was in knots, filled with anticipation for tonight, anxiety of when he would no longer be in her life and jealousy of a woman who would be his forever.
How had she managed to become emotionally entangled in such a manner. That was not supposed to happen. She was to have a lover and enjoy passion, and not care too deeply.
“When not in London, where do you reside?” she asked, only to take the topic away from his full future and her empty one.
Angelo spent the rest of the meal telling her of his home in Bath, which really was owned by his father, but it was where he preferred to reside. Then he spoke of the family estate in Kent, which he would now need to visit more often due to his father’s health, and then spoke more in depth of his sister and her husband, who did have an estate outside of Bath.
As the final course was removed, Octavia informed the footman that they would not be taking tea. She then advised the housekeeper and butler that she and Lord Bolton had matters to discuss which might take time and that they should retire if they wished as they would not be needed again that night and that she would show Lord Bolton out. She also had the housekeeper tell her maid that Octavia did not wish for her to wait up for her and that she was perfectly capable of retiring on her own.
None of them seemed suspicious of her request and she prayed that they didn’t realize the truth.
Once they were settled in the parlor, Octavia poured Angelo a glass of brandy and one for herself, then settled in a chair away from him.
He quirked a brow, then looked about the sparse room, then back at her.
“I chose this parlor on the ground floor because the windows look out on the street,” she explained. “I am certain others saw you enter, and some overheard our conversation today. This room being lit, when it normally is not, will lead people to believe that you are here because of my matchmaking, a skill I did not possess until you fabricated it.” She laughed. “Also, anyone who passes by, and may happen to glance in the window, will see you there and me here and assume there is no further need to gossip about us.”
He simply grinned, lifted his glass of brandy in a toast then sipped.
“I hope that eventually we may make our way upstairs,” he said.
“Only after you leave and make your way to the back of the house where I will be waiting to let you in.”
His grin widened. “Then let us hurry this discussion along as what I desire for this evening should not be viewed by Society. In fact, it would be considered quite scandalous.”
Octavia heated. She couldn’t imagine anything more scandalous than what they had already done.
She took a sip of the brandy and glanced at him over the rim of her glass and, regardless of the jealousy that ate at her, which likely would for months to come, made a decision.
“Do you recall my rules?”
His smile slipped for a moment. “Have you decided to invoke them again?”
Octavia chuckled. “No. I have no intention of doing so but thought to revisit one.”
Angelo held his breath, for fear of what she might say. Had she not enjoyed herself last night?
