Page 64 of Managing the Major

“Good evening, Major Alastair. It’s wonderful to see you. I’m so happy to hear you enjoyed our ride in the park yesterday.”

“Good evening, Miss Merrick.” He nodded, wishing it wasn’t démodé to kiss a lady’s hand. Even that formal gesture would be sublime. “May I compliment your ensemble? Camellias suit you.”

A faint blush rose to her cheeks. “A gentleman once told me their scent was intoxicating, so I enjoy wearing them in my coiffure. Would you be interested in riding again tomorrow, Major? I missed seeing you this morning.”

“Most definitely. My riding master has given strict instructions to ride whenever possible.” The flush became rosier.

“I see my brother comes this way; no doubt he wishes to finalize arrangements for Epsom.”

Richard’s spruce-colored tailcoat fit impeccably. Alastair remembered hearing somewhere that the earl was an avid boxer, and he had the physique to prove it. His resemblance to Octavia was remarkable—the same dark brown hair and distinctive blue-gray eyes, set under winged brows. A family trait, Nerissa informed him recently—the ‘Merrick eyes.’ Would Octavia’s children have them as well?

“Good evening, Octavia.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek.

“Lord Richard,” Alastair nodded, extending his right hand.

He took it firmly. “Alastair. I thought we might leave for Epsom at ten o’clock on Friday. If you care to come earlier, please join me for breakfast at Merrick. Does ten suit you, Octavia? I can hardly call you Scamp tonight—you look very much the lady. One of Madame Brigitte’s gowns?”

“Of course.”

He turned back to Alastair with a wry smile. “It seems like just the other day she was a twelve-year-old obsessed with pirates and swords.”

Alastair wanted to hear every detail of Octavia as a child, but he asked instead if the countess Fiona would accompany them on Friday.

“No, she and my mother plan to take the children to Regent’s Park and visit the zoo on Saturday. I believe my brother-in-law, Denys, will bring their twins as well.”

“I hope Mrs. Spencer is doing better. Octavia says her lying-in is drawing close.”

“It is indeed. Valentina has not had an easy time of it, but my sister is stronger than she looks.” He gazed down at Octavia affectionately. “Both my sisters have turned out to be exceptional women.”

“I hope I may meet Mrs. Spencer sometime in the future. Does she share the same likeness with you and Octavia?”

“No, Valentina favors my mother; she is blonde and blue-eyed, while I take after my father.” The faintest of shadows flickered across his face.

Alastair remembered Nerissa—who had made it her mission to learn about the prominent figures of the ton—saying the eighth Earl had nearly ruined the Merrick family with his gambling debts and a stream of extravagant mistresses.

Richard watched Lady Fiona cross the room towards them, his handsome face a mixture of deep tenderness and pride. “If you’ll excuse me, I hear a waltz beginning, and I’ve promised the next one to my wife.”

As he went to meet her, Alastair caught Octavia’s expression, which looked decidedly wistful.

“Octavia—”

Before he could say more, Rafe joined them, interrupting cheerfully.

“Good evening, Cousin. And Miss Merrick—always a pleasure to see you again. I’ve been wandering through this crush of people, hoping that I might find you both. I just finished speaking to Lord Ehnes, and his stallion is running in the match race against the earl. I thought I might come up with him on Friday night; you’re cloistered at the King’s Head, eh?”

“Yes, we are. Are you looking to lose money on Ehnes’s horse?” Alastair asked.

“Well, I can’t exactly bet against my friend, although I hear the earl has the winner. Give us an inside tip, Miss Merrick; is it a done deal?”

Octavia flashed a smile. “I’ll never tell, Captain Prescott. Major Fairfax, I see your niece has just finished dancing with Mr. Von Berger. I believe I’ll check if my matchmaking skills have come to fruition.”

Rafe stepped aside to make room for her full skirts as she swished by to find Abigail. He shook his head admiringly. “I say, Alastair, Miss Merrick is a beauty, and has the spirit to match. Have you decided what to do with her? By-the-bye, I saw Lucy Danbridge over there with her new husband; he’s as old as Methuselah, though, isn’t he?”

“A bit of an exaggeration, I think, Rafe.”

“Well, older than her for sure, and I hear he’s a bottomless well as far as his fortune goes. Have you had any more run-ins with our Lucy?”

Alastair shook his head. “Nothing.”