“Miss Finch!” He rushed to her, taking her head in his hands. “Miss Finch! Help! Somebody, help!” he screamed as he held her.
Miss Finch did not move. She did not open her eyes. And all Evander could think at that moment that this was, once again, his fault.
Epilogue
When Octavia came too, it took her a few moments to remember what had happened. Her eyelids were heavy. Her thoughts were clouded. And the last thing that she remembered…
Aaron!
She sat up quickly, her head spun, and she was forced to lie back down.
“Miss Finch!” She recognized the voice immediately, and unsurprisingly, it brought with it an immediate feeling of safety. “You’re awake.”
The Duke had been across the room when she’d woken, but he hurried to her bed and sat down beside her. Not too close, though, she noticed. He made sure to keep a small distance between them, even if it looked as if he wanted to be right by her side.
“What… where am I?” Slowly, Octavia pushed herself up. The room spun, but she shut her eyes, breathed slowly, and forced herself not to collapse.
“It is no wonder you do not recognize it,” the Duke said with a soft chuckle. “Even as troublesome as you have always been, I doubt you would have dared to venture in here.”
“What are you…” Octavia took a moment to consider his words.
She realized now that she was lying in a soft bed, one made of a dozen pillows and the thickest blankets that she had ever felt. Her eyes adjusted further, and one look around the generously proportioned room was enough to tell her exactly where she was.
“Oh…” Her cheeks flushed. “Yes, it might have been a problem if I had known it just from sight.”
“I would have had some questions.” The Duke smiled at her awkwardly, and she could see how nervous he was.
Lucky then that she felt the same.
Since the moment that Lady Redgate had appeared in her life, things between Octavia and the Duke had been nothing but awkward. Every time they spoke, every time that they were together, there had been a sense that neither was saying what was on their mind.
Octavia knew well enough what it was that she was holding back, but that was only done because the Duke was just as closed off.
There was an irony there, that Octavia, who preached openness and honesty, was unable to follow these same rules. And she knew now that until she did as she claimed all should do, that nothing would change. Is that not how it always was with the Duke? He wanted to be more open and honest, but he did not know how.
I thought that the ball would be the last time I saw him. This… it feels like a final chance to say what I know that I must.
Wise words… but they caught in her throat.
“The boys are fine,” the Duke said to break the silence. “I spoke to them both, making sure that they know that what they did was wrong.”
“How did they take it?”
He chuckled. “I do not think they care. They wanted to see one another, just as they wanted you back here. So, likely, they see this as a victory.”
She laughed and shook her head. “It is my fault that –”
“No,” he said sharply. She frowned at the tone, and he grimaced. “Sorry, I should not… I just do not want you to blame yourself.For anything. And not just what happened today, but… You and I.”
“What of us?”
He could not look at her, forced to speak into his chest. “When I came to see you at the ball, I thought that I was doing the right thing. I felt that I had been unkind to you and that by seeing you and telling you that I did not blame you, that it would somehow relieve me of my guilt.” He laughed bitterly. “Typically, it only made things worse.”
Octavia had been here before. It was not the first time that the Duke had let his guard down, so she knew to be silent and let him speak.
However, as he did, she shuffled further across the bed so that she was right beside him. And then, feeling that it was the right thing to do, she took his hand. He flinched when she did, then he frowned at her hand, and then he squeezed it tight.
“There is so much I want to say,” he continued, still unable to look at her. “I want to tell you how grateful I am for all you have done. But that feels… it feels like it does not begin to scratch the surface. I want to tell you how you helped me to see…” He bit into his lip. “How you helped me to see who I am, or who I can be. You know of my upbringing, why I am this way. So, you know better than anyone…” He grimaced. “Why is this so hard to say?”
