Page 2 of Claiming His Christmas Angel

“Yes. You do.”

“Liza, I’d like to go home.”

Octavia stiffened in surprise as she suddenly realized the woman speaking with the stranger was Lady Elizabeth Whitfield. She might not know the man’s voice, but Elizabeth was a frequent visitor to Montford Place. One of her sister’s closest friends, Clara and Elizabeth were a familiar sight to the Marlborough Set.

Whether they appeared together or as a trio when Octavia’s other sister joined them, the young woman was just as well-liked by the Set as the twins. Unlike herself, she thought with a grimace of resignation. Lady Elizabeth was second only to Serena when it came to the young woman being one of Clara’s closest confidants.

Like Octavia’s sisters, Elizabeth was in her first season. Being caught alone with a man would create a scandal. Worse, she might find herself married to a man who wouldn’t make her happy. Octavia refused to let that happen. Just as she was about to announce her presence, Elizabeth released an unladylike snort of skepticism.

“You do look grumpy. Even Mama has noticed it. After you left the breakfast table this morning, she mentioned you’ve been exceedingly grouchy of late.”

Octavia breathed a soundless sigh of relief. Elizabeth had to be talking to her brother, the Duke of Ashurst. The man had returned to London two months ago, after more than three years in America, and Octavia had made it a point to avoid him. It had been a wise decision. Even without having heard his voice, the man had been unforgettable. Octavia didn’t relish admitting how often her dreams had reinforced that fact. She silenced the oath threatening to pass her lips.

The first time she’d seen the duke was at Lady Lyndham’s soirée more than a month ago. Octavia’s heart skipped a beat as an image of the duke filled her head. Tall, muscular, and his skin darkened by the sun’s rays, the Duke of Ashurst was one of the most glorious examples of masculinity she’d ever seen.

Dark hair had enhanced a complexion that signaled he’d spent a great deal of time outdoors. No doubt acquired during his time in the American west, where it was rumored he owned a large cattle ranch. With his devilish good looks, and a smile that had left her breathless even from across the room, Octavia hadn’t been surprised to see the duke encircled by the Set’s loveliest women.

Lady Lyndham had caught her studying the duke and had murmured he would be quite a catch. Flustered the countess had seen her preoccupied with the man, Octavia had rejected the woman’s offer of an introduction with a sharp shake of her head. At her refusal, Lady Lyndham had arched her eyebrows in surprise, making Octavia laugh. Still smiling, she’d told the woman it would be a wasted effort when the Duke of Ashurst would forget her name two minutes after they met.

Octavia knew her countenance was pleasant, but she was realistic enough to know her plump figure did not make her appealing to most of the male population. In the week that followed the Lyndham soirée, she’d overheard numerous conversations where women and men alike described the duke as intelligent and witty. The man was also said to be as thoughtful as he was charming.

With each successive account of the duke’s qualities, Octavia had come to realize the Duke of Ashurst possessed almost all of the traits she desired in a husband, with the exception of one thing. The man was too handsome. Men of his looks and charms never pursued plump women like her. Experience over the past three years had reinforced that fact. It was why she’d always walked the other way whenever she saw the duke in the distance. She’d even gone so far as leaving an event on the pretense of a headache, all to avoid any chance of being introduced to him. Now that she’d heard his mesmerizing voice, she knew it had been the right decision.

The Duke of Ashurst’s handsome face had convinced her that he could have any woman he wanted. His voice only emphasized that unshakeable belief. When one combined his physical attributes with a positive disposition, it made the man dangerous where she was concern. Such a man would be far too easy to like, which meant putting her heart at risk. And she’d be a fool to become enamored with a man like Ashurst.

“I thought I was quite pleasant at breakfast,” the duke said with obvious puzzlement.

“Well, Mama told me that every time she mentioned either of us is in need of a new gown, you become quite irritable. She’s worried we might be in financial trouble.”

“I become irritable when I have to pay those outlandish bills that seamstress of yours sends me. Not even when father was alive did the two of you have so many dresses.”

“You forget Papa died before I made my debut,” Elizabeth’s voice was soft with pain and grief. “This is my first season, and I need more gowns than usual.”

“I remember,” the duke replied with a gentleness that said he was quite fond of his sister. Silence fell between them for a long moment before the man chuckled. “I also know your clothing allowance is quite generous, but you’ve nothing to worry about. Our finances are well in order.”

“Are they?” There was a moderate amount of skepticism in Elizabeth’s words, and Octavia frowned at the young girl’s query. “Never mind, don’t even bother to answer that. You’ll just tell me everything is fine and not to worry, no matter what our situation is.”

“God save me,” the duke said with a beleaguered sigh. “You’ve taken up our mother’s habit of worrying too much.”

“No, I’m far more pragmatic. I know Papa was terrible with finances, and when we lost him, you had to pick up the pieces.”

“We are not destitute, Liza. I—”

“But if you married an heiress, I know it would—”

“Liza, if you do not tell me right now why I’m standing in the dark with my sister and not on my way to my club, I’ll cut your clothing allowance by a third.”

“You’re here because I want you to ask my friend’s sister Octavia to dance.”

The girl’s request made Octavia’s heart sink to her stomach. Dear God, there was only one other woman here tonight with that name. And Octavia Weatherby didn’t have a sister. Heaven help her, she’d descended into hell. Humiliation tighten her chest as she tried to breathe air into her constricted lungs. If this had been her sister’s idea, Octavia would make her pay dearly.

“I presume this is another one of your charity cases?” The duke’s sardonic question sent humiliation slicing even deeper into Octavia.

“Octavia is not a charity case,” Elizabeth’s fierce objection was sharp and irritated. “She’s Lord Montford’s oldest daughter. I’m certain you’ll like her. She’s very nice, and she won’t be intimidated by you.”

“Not intimidated, I am—”

“And there is, of course, her sizeable dowry.”