Where earlier, she had felt as if she was being judged by those who thought they were better than her, now she felt as if she was little better than a piece of meat… or perhaps a tool, one that was yet to be figured out what the use might be.
None of them care about me or what I have to say. All they care about is how they might use me… what they can get from me…
“That gown is a marvel. Truly, from the moment I laid eyes on you, I could not stop staring.”
“You must visit my estate in the north sometime. The way the sun sets over the farmlands… why, it will be the second most beautiful thing I will see that day. You, of course, being the first.”
“I was warned of your beauty, but even I could not have been prepared for it.”
The lords whom Octavia met… honestly, she could not remember their names. Even their faces became blurred by the time she finished speaking to the fifth one. Dorethea led her from lord to lord, suitor to suitor, made introductions, and then stepped back to give Octavia and the respective lord a chance to bond.
No bonding was done. No efforts to get to know Octavia were made. Each lord was self-congratulating, highly vain, and spoke in sweeping compliments that she was certain were used on every other woman that was talked to this evening.
“Remember, dear, this is merely the first event,” Doretha explained as she pulled Octavia away from… Lord Chesterfield?Was that his name?“We speak to everyone we can, we weed through the weaklings, and soon enough a rose will appear.”
“They all just so…” She looked back, just in time to see Lord Chesterfield approach another young lady. “So false. I doubt they even know my name, or care to.”
“Give it time,” her grandmother assured her. “I agree that most of the men here are a little… transactional.” She sighed and shook her head. “But there is sure to be one who is pure and true. Do not fear, we will find him.”
Octavia highly doubted it.
They walked the ballroom together, and Octavia searched the crowd. She did not know what she expected to find. Perhaps one would catch her eye? Make her heart flutter? Somehow create interest, however that might feel?
But as they walked, as Dorethea pointed out various options, Octavia knew how hopeless it was. She had eyes for one man only, her heart was stolen by him, and it would not be such an easy thing to take back.
“What on earth…” Dorethea came to a sudden stop. “What is going on up there?” She looked ahead with curiosity.
Octavia noticed it too. Toward the ballroom’s entrance, there was a small commotion as those nearby began to gather and murmur among themselves. It looked as if someone special had arrived, enough to cause a stir and some interest.
Who cares who it is? It is not as if it will make a difference…
Suddenly, the crowd parted, and he who was the cause of the sudden commotion appeared from the gathering as if he were borne on a cloud. The light above seemed to shine on him. The music stopped dead. Silence fell on Octavia’s ears, so all that she could hear was her beating heart. She gasped. She stared. She did not care how obvious she was being.
“Oh my,” her grandmother said. “Now, he is the last person I thought would be here tonight.”
It was none other than the Duke, and the moment that Octavia saw him, he saw her. They stared across the room at one another. Octavia tried to look away, but as so often happened, his eyes trapped her. Time seemed to slow. Nothing else in the world mattered. And while Octavia knew deep down that she ought to turn and walk away, she simply could not bring herself to do it.
He would only hurt her. He would only confirm what she already knew. He would only…Oh no. As she stared, as she panicked, the Duke started across the ballroom and right for her.
Just like that, this evening became that much more interesting…
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Octavia stood frozen as the Duke approached her.
There was so much that she wanted to say… that she wanted to think. She wished that she could have seen him and realized how wrong she had been about him, that he wasn’t the man she had gotten to know, that her feelings were misguided and wrong. She would have liked to have felt nothing, to have simply turned and walked away. A sneer on her face. A look of apathy as their eyes met. Anything!
The crushing reality of the moment was far different.
As the Duke approached her, Octavia’s heart began to flutter. A part of it was how handsome he looked, just as she remembered. Those dark eyes of his. His sharp features, perfectly symmetrical. His thick head of hair. His broad shoulders and powerful gait. How utterly powerless she felt just to be around him… while also safe… while also feeling seen.
She started to remember with full clarity their time together. She thought back to that day she had stormed into his office and made demands, how he had teased her, how he had stood over her as she became completely undone by his confidence and command.
She thought about the day he joined them for a walk through the park, when she had gotten wet, and his first instinct was to give her his jacket. He was protective like that, a vulnerable moment that came from the heart.
Her mind cast back to the garden when he had denounced her father, told her that he wanted her to be herself. They had argued, they had bickered, and then he had touched her in ways that made her thighs burn.
Most of all, she recalled the more intimate moments. Him pouring his heart out to her. Him painting her as he truly saw her. And the night before her world changed, when he had thanked her for everything she had done… and then he had shown her just how grateful he was.
