Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
“Why are you doing this?” Octavia asked the Duke suddenly.
“Excuse me?”
She looked right at him, giving him nowhere to hide.
“Why are you doing this? And do not give me some lie about having a spare ticket or… or whatever else you might say to try and change the subject. I want to know why you are doing this. What is the reason?” She folded her arms, holding the Duke in her questioning gaze. “Well?”
Octavia sat opposite the Duke in the carriage as they made their way to the Opera.
Until this moment, the evening had been rather pleasant…
a little too pleasant, if Octavia was being honest. True to his word, the Duke had picked out a lavish gown of silver and blue for her to wear, even finer than the yellow one she had worn three nights ago.
When she had appeared at the top of the staircase, he had smiled, taken her in, and told her how beautiful she looked.
She had tried to act aloof, waving away his compliment like it had no effect on her. But the smile she wore, and the flush on her skin, told a different story.
From there, he led her to the carriage; they climbed inside, and the trip into London was a little too comfortable and easy.
Never one for conversation, the Duke had not let his tongue get away from him, but he hadn’t been closed off as he would usually be. He explained to her which performance they were seeing tonight, he told her that it was one of his favorites, and he claimed that he was excited to see her reaction.
It was just so… effortless. And while there was still a hint of hunger in the way that the Duke looked at her, the brimming desire felt between them, sitting just beneath the surface of their conversation, it was not the driving force.
What does he want, really? Surely, it cannot be so simple as to show me a good time?
It had been easier when Octavia assumed that all the Duke wanted from her was to satisfy his physical demands.
At least that way, she could tell herself that she only wanted the same thing.
There was nothing serious about this; she did not have to worry about the future, and she could simply enjoy herself without having to consider the future.
Now… something felt different. The Duke had changed, and she saw it more and more. He treated her with respect and compassion and deep interest; he was open and honest with her, even kind. It was almost as if he was starting to fall for her. But surely, there was just no way.
“I know you are a fan of music,” he said simply. “So, I thought it was safe to assume that you might wish to attend the Opera. This is your first time, yes?”
“It is,” she said. “But that is not an answer.”
“You have been working hard,” he said next. “You deserve a night out.”
“That is still not an answer.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”
“Based on what you know of me, what do you think?”
He watched her across the carriage. His dark eyes, they held her stare, unblinking and searching, done in a way that she knew was designed to unsettle her. He wanted her to back down, as always, so he could prove that he had her in his power.
Octavia did no such thing.
While she looked forward to tonight, and while she relished the chance to spend more time with the Duke, she needed to know what his plan was for her.
Whether it was worth getting her hopes up…
or if she needed to stay grounded in reality because she knew too well that when something was too good to be true, it almost always was.
Also, she could not forget that she had less than six months as his employee. Is that why he acted this way? Knowing there was an end date, an easy excuse to dismiss her when the time came?
“Fine,” he sighed. “Honesty, then.”
“Are you capable of such a thing?”
“I have been doing some thinking, Miss Finch…” He exhaled deeply, and the seriousness of his tone faded slightly. “Do you remember what we spoke about last week? What I spoke about.”
“You mean… your past marriage?”
“More than that,” he said. “About wanting to change. About wanting to be a better person, if not for me, for Aaron. For so long, I have acted a certain way and been perceived as a certain type of man because of it. This, I always thought, was for the best, the only way that things could be.”
“But…”
“But that is not the case,” he said. “I am trying to do better, to change. And you have been the cause of that. Now, it might sound silly, and you still might not wish to believe me, but I wanted to thank you. Nobody else has bothered to help me the way you have, and nobody else has cared.” He looked right at her, his expression earnest. “I owe you, Miss Finch, and while it might be a little clumsy, this is the best way I could think to repay you.”
Octavia was not such a fool as to think that he was telling her the entire truth. Some of it, she was certain, was honest and real. Indeed, she had seen with her own two eyes how much the Duke had changed this last week.
Even still, she doubted that his inviting her to the Opera tonight was done purely as a means to thank her. He wanted something else, she was sure of it, she just wasn’t sure what.
While it might have been easy to assume that what he wanted was to continue where they had left things a week ago, she doubted that it was that simple.
If he wants me like that, he knows he does not have to go through all of this effort. This… this is something more.
“All right…” Octavia leaned back and attempted to drop the accusation from her gaze. “I believe you. For now.”
He chuckled. “That will have to do.”
Her heart fluttered as the ride continued, just as he continued to watch her across the carriage. While it was insane to imagine, and impossible to believe, it felt to Octavia as if the Duke was courting her.
But there was just no way…
Even if Octavia had allowed herself to believe that the Duke was starting to see her as something else, reality came calling the moment that they arrived at the Opera house.
They climbed from the carriage together, Octavia with her arm linked through the Duke’s. The crowd around their carriage was made up of members from the peerage, all of whom recognized the Duke and bowed their heads with respect; some even parted for him, as if not daring to get too close.
However, when they saw Octavia on his arm, the atmosphere, as well as the respect paid, shifted very quickly.
“Ignore them,” the Duke said when he saw Octavia grimace. “Who cares what they think?”
It was easy for him to say that, as he was not the one who they watched and judged. And while Octavia was confident in herself, she was not so much when beaten with the ire of those who she knew to be better than her.
They watched, and they scowled. They shook their heads and gasped. The Duke led Octavia through the crowd, toward the entrance, and Octavia could not help but notice and hear the whispers that followed them.
They know what I am… and they know that I do not belong.
Octavia tried her best to dismiss these judgements, but she was only so strong. She was reminded a little too clearly of the Duke’s social drum from last week, the way that she was rightly ignored, not to mention reminded constantly that she did not belong in this scene.
Even if the Duke saw her differently, even if he did not care, what would he do when people started to question him to his face about her? He was, after all, a staunch believer in expectation, and while he claimed that he was trying to change, could someone change that much?
Things got worse when he led her inside and to their seats.
Their seats were some of the best in the house.
Above the stage, and protruding off the wall, was a small box that they had to themselves.
To enter this box, they were forced to walk a hallway where a valet stood to usher them inside.
And gathered along this hallway in wait were dozens of lords and ladies.
They had been chatting among themselves as they waited to be shown to their seats, but as soon as Octavia and the Duke arrived, the conversation ceased, and all eyes turned on them.
“Good evening,” the Duke said as he led Octavia down the hallway to their private box.
“Your Grace,” a few of the other guests said.
“Your Grace, it is nice to see you,” more added.
No one greeted Octavia. Even in her fine gown, even on the arm of the Duke, they somehow knew what she was. It made Octavia want to turn and flee, to forget this night and hurry home to where she belonged. Never before had she been so embarrassed.
“Your Grace…” As they reached the entrance to their private box, an elderly woman swept in beside them. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
“Lady Redgate,” the Duke greeted simply. “Nice to see you.”
“As it is nice to see you…” She looked him over with a discerning gaze. “I did not know you were a fan of the Opera.”
“I enjoy it from time to time,” he said. “Just as I like to keep people guessing about me.”
She snorted and looked down at Octavia. “And who is your friend?”
“This is Miss Finch…” The Duke spoke loudly as if he wanted everyone to hear him. “She is my son’s governess and here tonight on my invitation.”
“Is that right?” Lady Redgate spoke as if her tongue spat acid. “A governess.” She curled her lip at Octavia. “This must be quite the treat for you, dear. Rubbing shoulders with your betters.”
Octavia offered a smile and looked away.
“As I said, she is here on my invitation,” the Duke spoke with a growl. “And I would expect you to treat her as you would me.”
“I am merely noting the obvious,” Lady Redgate dismissed. “I did not mean anything by it…” As she spoke, Octavia sensed the elderly lady watching her closely. “Miss Finch… Might you be so kind as to look at me when I speak to you.”
Octavia grimaced and forced herself to look up.
Lady Redgate had a cruel face. Her lips were thin. Her cheeks were sunken. And her eyes, as black as bottomless pits, stared directly at her as if she was trying to scare away a mouse that had scampered into her home without invitation.
However, as Lady Redgate looked down at her, something happened… a shadow passed behind her eyes, her brow furrowed, and she tilted her head as if in confusion.
“Miss Finch… who did you say your father was?”
Octavia blinked. “I… I did not say.”
“Well?”
“Nobody you know, I am sure,” the Duke spoke over her. “Now, Lady Redgate, if you do not mind…” He looked at her with warning, and Lady Redgate shook her head and rolled her eyes.
“Yes, yes, very well.” She looked at Octavia a final time, still with abject curiosity, before walking away.
“Ignore her,” the Duke said. “She is a known busybody and not worth your time.”
Octavia said nothing. She offered a thankful smile and looked ahead as the Duke led her into their private box.
There, she pretended to focus on the stage as the crowd below them settled.
But there was something about the way that Lady Redgate had looked at her just now that was odd…
not in judgment like everybody else. It was almost as if she knew her.
Which is impossible. Likely, the old woman is just confused.
The show started soon after, which Octavia was grateful for as it allowed her to forget what had happened and to focus on the show.
Nonetheless, she struggled to dismiss the feeling that those in the other private boxes along the wall were eyeing her, as well as judging. She was not one of them and never had it felt so obvious.
Even the Duke, seemingly unaware, could not save her from torment. She caught him glancing at her from time to time; she saw him smiling and admiring her. While that should have brought her some relief, it only made her feel worse.
Whatever the Duke did or did not want with her, it made little real difference. Tonight had proven that Octavia did not belong here, just as she did not belong in the Duke’s affections, and nothing would change that.
She was a fool for daring to think differently.