Harred bowed. “I am looking forward to it.”
“Good day, Harred,” Fredrick said.
As they rode off, Harred started walking towards his horse. He hadn’t been to a ball in quite some time, but for Lady Octavia, he would go and dance. And, for the first time in a long time, he had something to look forward to.
Dressed in a blue ballgown with a square neckline, Octavia knocked on her mother’s bedchamber door.
The door was promptly opened and her mother’s lady’s maid greeted her. “Good evening, my lady,” Nancy said, opening the door wide. “Your mother is just having dinner and would no doubt enjoy your company.”
Octavia stepped into the room and saw her mother’s eyeslight up, which was in stark contrast to her pale skin. “Octavia, what a pleasant surprise.”
With a glance at the uneaten food on the tray, Octavia asked, “Are you not hungry?”
Her mother made a face. “Not for whatever that is,” she replied. “The meat is dry and the sides are even drier. I do not even think it is edible.”
“I’m sorry. I do have something that I think you might like.” Octavia walked closer to the bed and extended a small cloth bag. “I picked it up when I went to Gunter’s with Fredrick this afternoon.”
A smile came to her mother’s face as she accepted the bag. “Thank heavens for you, Child,” she declared. “How I adore dry sweetmeats.”
Octavia watched as her mother retrieved a treat and plopped it into her mouth. She had no doubt that her father would chide her for her actions, but she did not care. Her mother was dying and she deserved to eat whatever she so desired. If it brought her one ounce of joy, it was worth it.
After her mother savored the treat, she said, “You are looking rather nice this evening. I must assume you are attending a social event.”
“Yes, I am going to a ball with Fredrick.”
Her mother blinked. “Is Fredrick back from the war?” she asked.
Octavia nodded. “He is, Mother. He came home over a week ago.” She had lost count how many times she had explained this to her mother, but it didn’t bother her. She would do it as many times as it took.
“Did we win the war?”
“I’m afraid the war still rages on,” Octavia said. “But Fredrick came home for Roswell’s wedding and to see you, of course.”
A frown came to her mother’s lips. “Roswell is married? I feel like that is something I should have known.”
“He married Anette. You remember her, don’t you?”
“I do. She is such a pleasant young woman,” her mother replied. “I always liked her.”
Octavia pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down. “How are you feeling?”
“I am tired,” she shared. “And my mind isn’t as sharp as it once was, but I am trying my best.”
“We know, Mother, and you don’t need to explain yourself. We love you, just the way you are,” Octavia said.
Her mother’s face softened. “I love you, Child. I want you to know that. No matter what happens, never doubt that you have been one of my greatest treasures.”
Reaching for her mother’s hand, Octavia responded, “I love you, too, and nothing will ever change that.”
“I want you to promise me that you will enjoy yourself this Season,” her mother said. “Promise me.”
Octavia pressed her lips together. Could she promise such a thing when her mother was lying in bed, dying? The thought just seemed inconceivable to her.
Her mother tightened her hold on her hand and waited until she met her gaze. “I know that look. Stop worrying about me and focus on yourself.”
A knock sounded at the door and Nancy crossed the room to answer it. As she opened it wide, Fredrick stepped inside.
Her mother gasped. “Fredrick! You have returned.”
