Page 45 of Managing the Major

“Certainly, Mrs. and Miss Croyden may come. And I know about Richard, because I had dinner there last night. He’s planning to arrange a private race at Epsom in a few weeks and asked if I thought you and Major Fairfax would care to accompany him. Is there something I should know, dear?”

“Not yet, Mama. I’m still thinking over the matter.”

“Well, just so you know, I like the major very much indeed.”

“I’m glad you do. Are we still going to Lady Clementine’s party tomorrow night?”

“Yes, and I am so glad I convinced her not to make it a masquerade. All that fuss with disguises, when people just want to converse or dance with each other. Your new gown arrived from Madame Brigitte today and I had it sent up to your room. I took a peek…it’s stunning. Are you wearing it to Lady Clementine’s, or saving it for Almack’s Wednesday?”

“Tomorrow night, I think.”

“Ah, the Croydens must be attending with Major Fairfax.”

“Really, Mama! Are you trying to vex me?”

“Not at all, my dear. Shall we go in to tea?”

The following day passed in such a flurry of activity that any thoughts of Alastair were fleeting. As Octavia dressed for Lady Clementine’s rout, she still had no answer for their predicament. Did either of them really want to marry? Tonight would offer few opportunities for privacy, so discussion on the subject was unlikely.

Besides, there was other news. This morning, Richard mentioned he had sent an invitation to Major Fairfax regarding the race at Epsom Downs.

Then Mrs. Croyden, accompanied by Miss Croyden, had called in the afternoon to say that Sir William Denton formally asked to court her. And since the Hon. Theo Von Berger had paid Abigail three visits since Almack’s, it seemed likely she would have an offer soon. She couldn’t wait to quiz Alastair about her success.

Octavia winced as Marie tied the baleen corset tightly over a thin linen chemise and added a flounced petticoat. The new gown was cameo rose silk with tiny puffed sleeves and a larger, sheer oversleeve. The neckline was low and off the shoulders, dipping to the hollow between her breasts, and the bodice was in the latest Paris style, pointed at her waist over a full skirt. After she stepped into it and slid her arms into the delicate sleeves, Marie laced the back and turned her around, nodding with approval.

It was nearly an hour later when Octavia descended the stairs, her hair done à la Chinoise in a high knot of curls and braids, decorated with pink roses. Her jewelry was a pearl and diamond necklace and matching drop earrings. Her mother met her in the entrance hall, beautiful in mauve watered silk.

“I have never seen you in that color before, and it suits you wonderfully.” Kissing her on the cheek, Lady Amelia took the embroidered shawl from Octavia’s arm and placed it over her shoulders. “There’s a chill in the air; I wonder if we’ll have rain tomorrow. Are you ready, my dear?”

Alastair stepped into Lady Willoughby’s house on Belgrave Square and handed his hat to the footman, searching the crowded room for Octavia. He had returned late from Fairfax after having to resolve some business matters, and sent a message to Nerissa and Abigail to meet him at the party, along with news of the weekend.

His sister stood conversing with Lady Amelia and an elegant woman in ostrich feathers, presumably Lady Willoughby. He finally spotted Octavia, breathtaking in a rosy pink, and engaged in the quadrille with Sir William Denton. No matter how his condition improved, dancing would always be out of reach. That had never bothered him much until this moment.

He wove through the guests and reached Nerissa.

“Ah, here is my brother now, Lady Willoughby.”

“I believe Lady Jersey introduced us earlier this season, Lady Willoughby. Thank you for your kind invitation. Lady Merrick, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” He bowed; although the gesture was becoming old-fashioned, he liked the respect of it.

“Of course, Major Fairfax,” his hostess replied. “I’m gratified you could attend. How gratifying it is to see your niece making so many connections. She is a lovely young lady.”

Looking past her, he noticed Abigail dancing with Theo Von Berger. They made a handsome couple, and she glowed with pleasure. He’d have to make an effort to talk to the father tonight and find out more about the Von Bergers.

As Alastair exchanged small talk with the three ladies, his eyes flickered to Octavia, who continued to smile at Sir William. The dance was interminably long, confound it. Lady Willoughby left to join her husband, whose name escaped Alastair.

“Lady Fiona and I were discussing your new horse, Alastair. How wonderful it will be to see you riding again. To thank Miss Merrick properly, I invited her to tea on Thursday, and Lady Amelia, of course. Does that day fit with your plans?”

“Yes, certainly,” he replied, irritated to see that once the music ended, Octavia strolled over to the refreshment table with Sir William.

“Octavia mentioned that she and Lady Hope greatly enjoyed your hospitality, Major Fairfax, and found Fairfax delightful,” Lady Amelia said.

“That is good to hear. Miss Merrick’s assistance was invaluable. I hope it’s not inconvenient if my gelding presently resides at Merrick House.”

“Oh, not at all.” She waved away his concerns. “The stables are my daughter’s province entirely, and I rarely venture there. But I do hope you will step inside the house occasionally.”

“Thank you, Lady Merrick.” At last, it looked like Octavia and Sir William were coming this way. But, to his consternation, before the pair had taken more than a few steps, they were intercepted by Lucy Crawford and one of his least favorite people in London, Henrietta Wilcox.

Lady Wilcox wore her usual expression, that of smelling something distasteful. The purple turban perched on her towering gray curls was possibly the ugliest head covering he’d ever seen, and she held a jeweled lorgnette. Lord Crawford was nowhere to be seen. Octavia looked surprised at their appearance and greeted the ladies with some caution. He felt a wave of annoyance at her discomfort.