Octavia turned her attention towards the townhouse and squared her shoulders. “I am ready now,” she stated.
“If you aren’t, I can keep saying things to inspire you,” Roswell teased.
She laughed, just as he had intended. “I have been inspired enough, thank you.”
As they walked up to the main door, Roswell said, “I daresay that Fredrick couldn’t have made such a powerful speech.”
“I don’t know. He does have a way with words.”
Roswell knocked on the door and the door promptly opened. The butler took a step back and greeted them. “Lord Roswell. Lady Octavia. Do come in,” he encouraged.
They both stepped into the entry hall and waited for the butler to close the door.
“Only Miss Bolingbroke is in the drawing room,” the butler informed them. “Allow me to announce you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Octavia insisted.
“Very good, my lady,” the butler said. “I shall see to ringing the dinner bell.”
Roswell trailed behind Octavia into the drawing room and caught sight of Anette, who was adorned in a dark blue gown. Her hair was pinned on top of her head with pearls woven throughout and two long curls framed her face. To simply say that she looked beautiful would be an understatement.
“Good evening, Octavia,” Anette greeted. “Roswell.”
Roswell bowed. “Good evening, Anette,” he replied. “You are looking…” His words trailed off. What words could properly do her justice? For no words could describe how breathtaking she looked this evening.
Anette gave him an expectant look and he realized that he had been caught staring.
He smiled. “You are looking well,” he said.
She looked disappointed by his choice of words and he wished he could take them back.
Octavia rolled her eyes at him. “Anette is looking better than ‘well,’” she said. “You look stunning.”
Anette held out the sides of her skirt. “This is one of the new gowns my mother had commissioned for me. Do you think it is too much?”
Yes.
How was he supposed to remain a gentleman when she looked so alluring? Why couldn’t she wear a simple gown that had a more conservative neckline? He knew her gown was the height of fashion, but he didn’t have to like it.
“Not at all,” Octavia replied. “You shall be the envy of thetonthis evening.”
Roswell cleared his throat. “You might wish to wear a spencer or a cape this evening at Vauxhall Gardens.”
“It is much too warm for a spencer,” Octavia objected.
“Vauxhall Gardens is by the water and I would hate for Anette to catch a chill,” Roswell said, fully aware of how foolish he sounded.
Anette offered him a grateful look. “Thank you, my lord, for your concern, but I shall be fine.”
Roswell walked over to the window and looked out. He had serious matters that he needed to attend to, but all he could think about was Anette and how her gown hugged her figure perfectly.
Octavia’s voice drew him back into the conversation. “Don’t you agree, Roswell?”
Turning back around, he asked, “What am I agreeing to, Sister?”
“We should take a ride through Hyde Park one of these days,” Octavia said. “Like we used to.”
“That was a much different time,” Roswell said. “You weren’t even out in Society yet.”
