Fredrick looked put out. “A woman at university? Could you imagine?” he teased.
“Do be serious, Brother,” Octavia argued. “Why can’t women be educated? What is everyone so afraid of?”
“A woman’s place is within the home,” Fredrick said. “Do not underestimate your importance there.”
Octavia blew out a puff of air. “But I can do more than just run a household.”
Fredrick placed a hand on his sister’s sleeve. “I know that to be true, but change does not happen overnight. Be patient.”
“I do not like being patient,” Octavia admitted. “It is not one of my strengths.”
“Say it isn’t so,” Fredrick joked as he removed his hand.
Octavia laughed, and the sound was like music to Harred’s ears. But he wanted to be the one to make her laugh.
Harred spoke up, drawing back Octavia’s attention. “I think it is noble that you want more from your life than what is expected of you.”
She looked at him with approval in her eyes. “Thank you, my lord,” she said. “That is kind of you to say.”
A loud, booming voice announced that the musical performance was about to begin.
Harred offered his arm and asked, “Shall we take our seats, my lady?”
Octavia accepted his arm and he led her towards the chairs. Once they were both situated, Harred leaned in and asked, “Do you play the pianoforte?”
“Every respectable young woman can play the pianoforte,” came her reply.
“Dare I hope that you will play a piece for me one of these days?”
Her lips quirked upwards. “I would like that, but do notexpect too much. I said that I can play the pianoforte. I never said that I excelled in it.”
“I will gladly take you as you are,” Harred said as he returned her smile.
Her eyes dropped to his lips for a moment before her smile dimmed. “You are far too complimentary of me. You should see some of my paintings. They are awful.”
“I am sure they can’t be that bad,” Harred attempted.
“No, they truly are,” Octavia said. “I am not talented like my friend, Lady Lizette Westcott. Her paintings are exquisite.”
“But they aren’t yours.” Harred paused before saying, “I know I am bold in my speech, but I would greatly appreciate one of your paintings to hang on my walls.”
Octavia shook her head. “I do not find you bold, but I could never do such a thing to you. No doubt you have fine works of art in your home, and my paintings would pale in comparison to them.”
“I disagree. Art is an expression of our inner thoughts, feelings and experiences, making every one of your paintings special,” Harred said.
“I see that you are not easily convinced that my paintings are nothing special. Perhaps you should come to call and see them yourself.”
Harred nodded. “I shall come tomorrow, assuming that is acceptable to you.”
“I have no objections, but I would not get your hopes up,” Octavia said.
Fredrick sat down next to his sister. “I do apologize for my delay. I had to speak to someone for a moment.”
“Is everything all right?” Octavia asked.
“Yes,” Fredrick replied firmly.
Octavia looked as if she had more to say on the subject, but she didn’t press her brother. Instead, she said, “Lord Kendal has asked for one of my paintings.”
