As he watched Fredrick escort Octavia to the coach, he wished that he had thought of a reason for her to remain with him. But at least he had secured a dance for this evening. He resisted the urge to groan at the thought of attending yet another ball.
But could he truly wait until this evening to see Octavia again? Not likely.
Octavia held the guitar in her hands as she played a song for her mother. It was a song that her mother used to sing to them every night before bed. How she cherished that simple time. She wished they could go back to that time when her mother was healthy and full of life. It was so hard to watch her wither away right in front of her.
As she sang the song, she felt tears prick in the back of her eyes and she blinked them back. It would do no good to display her emotions and it could very well upset her mother. What was worse was that the light that had been so prevalent in her mother’s eyes was starting to dim.
She finished singing and removed her hands from the strings of the guitar.
Her mother smiled as she leaned her back against the wall. “That was nice, dear. What song was that?”
Her heart dropped at her mother’s innocent words. “It was a song that you used to sing to us before bed,” Octavia replied.
The smile left her mother’s face. “I’m afraid I don’t remember that. Did I sing it often?”
Octavia lowered the guitar to the floor and rested it against the chair. “You would, but now I get to sing it to you.”
“You have the most beautiful voice,” her mother praised.
She knew that wasn’t true but she decided it would be best not to argue with her mother. “Thank you,” she replied.
Her mother glanced at the door and asked, “Where is Harred?”
As if on cue, the door opened and Harred stepped into the room. “Hello, Lady Cuttyngham,” he greeted. “It is good to see you looking so well.”
Her mother shook her head. “I look awful but thankyou for your kind words.”
Octavia rose and asked, “What are you doing here?” Not that she was complaining. She was pleased that he was here, but she was just surprised.
“That is no way to greet your husband,” her mother chided lightly.
Harred approached Octavia and kissed her cheek before he whispered directly into her ear. “I thought you might need me here.”
She reveled in his nearness and realized how much his presence comforted her. Why was that? Hadn’t she been doing just fine on her own? But she already knew that answer. She was barely holding on and she needed Harred’s strength to sustain her.
Leaning back, Harred said, “I must admit that I was listening at the door. I arrived when you were singing and I didn’t wish to disturb you.”
Octavia felt a blush come to her cheeks. How mortifying. She never sang in front of people, other than family.
Harred met her gaze and the lines crinkled at the edges of his eyes. “I do not think I have heard such a lovely song before.”
“You flatter me but we both know that isn’t true,” Octavia said as she ducked her head. “My voice is nothing special.”
In a soft voice, Harred replied, “It is special because it is yours.”
Octavia brought her gaze up and the way he was looking at her caused her to pause. His eyes held a tenderness that she had yet to see before and it was directed at her. But was it just an act? It had to be. He was just playing the role of a devoted husband. So why was a part of her disappointed by that thought?
Her mother’s voice broke through the silence. “How did Harred offer for you, dear?”
She reluctantly dropped Harred’s gaze and turnedtowards her mother. “He got down on one knee and did a proper proposal. It was sweet and simple.”
“It was much more romantic than that,” Harred remarked.
“Was it?” Octavia asked. “I’m afraid I can hardly remember it anymore.”
Harred reached for her hand and a thrill of excitement coursed through her at his touch. “I told you that I would love you forever and asked for you to marry me. If I recall correctly, you were rather taken by surprise by my offer.”
“That is true, because we hardly knew one another,” Octavia said.
