Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Oh, look at you,” Dorethea said in awe as Octavia arrived at the top of the staircase. Dorethea stood in the foyer, and her mouth fell open when her eyes landed on Octavia. “That gown… your hair! Octavia, you look beautiful.”
Octavia smiled politely as she started down the staircase. “Thank you.”
“And your mother…” Dorethea sniffed and wiped a tear from her eyes. “You look so much like her, dressed up as you are. I can’t help but remember how she looked on her debut. It is like I have gone back in time.”
“I wish I were that young,” Octavia joked.
“It is the same,” Dorethea said. “It was her introduction into high society, just as it is for you too. A more important evening does not exist than this one, and I am pleased to say that you look every inch the part.”
The compliments were kind and generous, and Octavia accepted them graciously because she knew that her grandmother was speaking her own truth.
No doubt, the elderly woman believed that tonight was as important as she said, just as she believed that Octavia was worth the praise that she lavished upon her.
Indeed, the gown that Octavia wore was deep emerald, embedded with sparkling diamonds, hemmed with silver stitching that transformed to light green as it wound up her gown like vines climbing a tree.
It was tight-fitting, the type that hugged her waist and her legs, that pronounced her curves, and that left little to the imagination.
Even the neckline, while running diagonally across her chest, not too low either, accentuated her bust so that Octavia felt like she might spill out.
And while Octavia appreciated the gown that her grandmother bought for her, just as she appreciated the kind words, she could not help but lament that the only person who she wanted to see her in this dress was not here.
I can’t help but remember the last time I wore a gown like this one…
Her mind drifted back to the night of the Opera.
She remembered when she had appeared at the top of the staircase.
She could see clearly the look on the Duke’s face as he took her in; the infatuation, the sheer desire that poured from his eyes was unmissable.
That had been the night when Octavia began to understand the Duke’s feelings for her…
misconstrued as pure lust at the time, since realized to be so much more.
No… there was never more there than lust and passion. I thought for a time that there might be, that he and I… it does not matter. I was wrong about him, as hard as that is to admit.
“Shall we?” Dorethea offered her arm to Octavia.
“Thank you again, Dorethea,” Octavia said as she took her grandmother’s arm. “For everything that you have –”
“Enough of that,” her grandmother waved her down as they started toward the door.
The footman there opened it wide, and Octavia noticed the way his eyes roamed over her body.
“As I have told you time and again, it is I who should be thanking you. You have no idea how hard I have worked toward this moment… and how often I doubted it would ever arrive.”
“Still…” Octavia blushed a little, as she felt terribly awkward when Dorethea spoke this way, as if she was worried that she would fail to live up to the woman’s expectations. “You have been so good to Henry and I.”
“And it is only the beginning,” she said with a firm nod. “One week in and you have yet to taste what this life will afford you. Tonight, this…” She gestured toward the carriage that waited for them. “Oh, girl, just you wait and see.”
It was a sentiment that her grandmother had repeated often this past week.
How much Octavia’s life was set to change.
How perfect everything would be from now on.
And how Octavia and Henry both deserved it, a life where they would want for nothing, and where everything they might dream was theirs for the taking.
If that is true, why do I still feel so… so lost.
There was just the one thing that Octavia wanted, and it was the exact thing that she could not have.
Worse too, tonight was to be her first Societal Ball, her ‘debut’ as her grandmother was calling it. All week, Dorethea had spoken about the importance of tonight, constantly reminding Octavia that its purpose was to begin the courting process, as was right for someone of her class and status.
Dorethea only wanted what was best… she was doing what she thought right… and while Octavia was desperate to tell her that she did not want to marry any old lord, that this was the last thing she wished from her life, she simply could not bring herself to do so.
The Duke was no longer an option. Octavia now had a life of responsibility before her. Had she not said so many times that she would do anything she could to give her brother the life he deserved? And herself, for that matter. It was time now for her to prove it so.
“I still cannot get over that gown,” her grandmother said as they reached the carriage. The door was already open, and the driver stood there with a hand out to help them in. “Any man would be lucky to have you.”
“Any man… or the right man,” Octavia said, softly, to herself so that only she could hear it.
As a little girl, there were times when Octavia had dreamed of what it might be like to attend a Societal Ball.
She had heard all about them, of course.
She had been told what they were like, the grandeur and the opulence and the sense of belonging.
She had spent many an hour picturing herself in a lavish gown, walking on the arm of a handsome lord, the world seeming to exist as if for her and her alone…
Oh, how wrong I was…
The ball she attended tonight was hosted at Highmere Estate, on the outskirts of London.
The manor itself was impressive, the type that made her jaw drop open when she saw it sparkling through the darkness of night, a beacon that called to her.
But the ballroom itself… that was something else entirely.
She did not even care how out of place she looked; the way that she gaped and gawked surely told all who saw her that this was an event unlike any other she had been to.
The ceilings of the ballroom were stained glass, the imagery colorful, the scenes they painted depicting religious iconography.
The walls were made of white marble, and they had vines creeping up and wrapping the marble columns that stood at intervals.
The floor was also marble, but they sparkled with flecks of gold, shimmering bright from the dozens of crystal chandeliers.
If that was not impressive enough, then the guests themselves were enough to make Octavia stare awkwardly.
It was the colors that took her breath away.
The women wore gowns of every color imaginable, their jewelry was magnificent, their hair styled in ways that she did not know were possible.
And while the men were nowhere near as colorful, their suits were pristine and tailored and suggested their wealth.
When Octavia walked into the ballroom, she came to a dead stop so that Dorethea walked away, then turned to see what the matter was.
“You will get used to it,” Dorethea chuckled as she took Octavia’s arm and started to lead her again.
“I am not so sure I want to.”
“Remember, dear, you belong here. This is your world now, so it is time you act like it.”
“But how?” Octavia asked, her skin prickling with nervous energy. As she and her grandmother walked, she saw a few people look their way, and she was certain that they knew who she was… what she was.
“Just remember who you are,” Dorethea said as she pointed her chin high. “And let no man or woman look down at you.”
Easy to say, hard to do…
The evening started slowly, and Dorethea was sure not to rush Octavia into anything that made her uncomfortable. First, she introduced Octavia to some of her friends, most of whom were also elderly, all of whom were so eager to meet her.
“So, this is the famous granddaughter,” a soft-bodied lord with sagging skin said as he took Octavia’s hand and kissed it. “Dorethea has said so much about you.”
“What a marvelous story,” a large woman with red cheeks and shock-white hair agreed. “Truly, I cannot even imagine what your life must have been like.”
“Is it true that you once worked in a tavern?” another lord asked.
“I was told you have slept on the street?” asked a voice from somewhere.
“This must be rather intimidating,” a third voice joined in. “Oh yes, I see it in your eyes.”
Octavia felt surrounded, like prey being eyed off by predators. They swarmed her, and although their voices were friendly enough, she sensed that this was the opposite of what they intended. They were judging her, searching for weaknesses, while reminding her of who she truly was.
“Come, dear,” her grandmother pulled her away. “Let us roam.” She was sure to keep a hold of Octavia’s arm as they went. “Do not let them get to you, Octavia.”
“I wasn’t –”
“Truly…” She scoffed. “Lord Harrington’s idea of suffering is his boots not being buffed of a morning. As it stands, you are new and interesting, and they will try to disarm you, make you feel small because it makes them feel big.”
Octavia looked over her shoulder, seeing right away that the small group she had just left still watched her go. “What should I do?”
“Exactly what we are here to do,” her grandmother said. “Show them that you are as good as any of them. Better, even. Also…” She made sure to smile. “A sure way to quiet wagging tongues is to find oneself courted by a lord whose reputation is unquestionable.”
Octavia’s stomach twisted because she knew exactly who such a lord might be… and who it never would be. “Who…” she dared to ask.
Her grandmother smirked. “Let us find out.”
So began the next stage of the evening and, as Octavia might have expected, it was even worse than the first.
Where earlier, she had felt as if she was being judged by those who thought they were better than her, now she felt as if she was little better than a piece of meat… or perhaps a tool, one that was yet to be figured out what the use might be.
None of them care about me or what I have to say. All they care about is how they might use me… what they can get from me…
“That gown is a marvel. Truly, from the moment I laid eyes on you, I could not stop staring.”
“You must visit my estate in the north sometime. The way the sun sets over the farmlands… why, it will be the second most beautiful thing I will see that day. You, of course, being the first.”
“I was warned of your beauty, but even I could not have been prepared for it.”
The lords whom Octavia met… honestly, she could not remember their names.
Even their faces became blurred by the time she finished speaking to the fifth one.
Dorethea led her from lord to lord, suitor to suitor, made introductions, and then stepped back to give Octavia and the respective lord a chance to bond.
No bonding was done. No efforts to get to know Octavia were made. Each lord was self-congratulating, highly vain, and spoke in sweeping compliments that she was certain were used on every other woman that was talked to this evening.
“Remember, dear, this is merely the first event,” Doretha explained as she pulled Octavia away from… Lord Chesterfield? Was that his name? “We speak to everyone we can, we weed through the weaklings, and soon enough a rose will appear.”
“They all just so…” She looked back, just in time to see Lord Chesterfield approach another young lady. “So false. I doubt they even know my name, or care to.”
“Give it time,” her grandmother assured her. “I agree that most of the men here are a little… transactional.” She sighed and shook her head. “But there is sure to be one who is pure and true. Do not fear, we will find him.”
Octavia highly doubted it.
They walked the ballroom together, and Octavia searched the crowd. She did not know what she expected to find. Perhaps one would catch her eye? Make her heart flutter? Somehow create interest, however that might feel?
But as they walked, as Dorethea pointed out various options, Octavia knew how hopeless it was. She had eyes for one man only, her heart was stolen by him, and it would not be such an easy thing to take back.
“What on earth…” Dorethea came to a sudden stop. “What is going on up there?” She looked ahead with curiosity.
Octavia noticed it too. Toward the ballroom’s entrance, there was a small commotion as those nearby began to gather and murmur among themselves. It looked as if someone special had arrived, enough to cause a stir and some interest.
Who cares who it is? It is not as if it will make a difference…
Suddenly, the crowd parted, and he who was the cause of the sudden commotion appeared from the gathering as if he were borne on a cloud.
The light above seemed to shine on him. The music stopped dead.
Silence fell on Octavia’s ears, so all that she could hear was her beating heart.
She gasped. She stared. She did not care how obvious she was being.
“Oh my,” her grandmother said. “Now, he is the last person I thought would be here tonight.”
It was none other than the Duke, and the moment that Octavia saw him, he saw her.
They stared across the room at one another.
Octavia tried to look away, but as so often happened, his eyes trapped her.
Time seemed to slow. Nothing else in the world mattered.
And while Octavia knew deep down that she ought to turn and walk away, she simply could not bring herself to do it.
He would only hurt her. He would only confirm what she already knew. He would only… Oh no. As she stared, as she panicked, the Duke started across the ballroom and right for her.
Just like that, this evening became that much more interesting…