Surely one night couldn’t harm anything.
“You are going out?”
Octavia’s smile was reflected in her mirror as Beatrice entered her bedroom. “I am.”
Her cousin’s dark eyes widened, one hand going to her mouth. “Dressed like that?”
Twisting her hair into a simple knot on her crown, Octavia slid around on her stool with a chuckle. “Yes.”
Beatrice stared. “But you are not wearing any jewelry and your gown is—”
“Somewhat out of fashion. I know.” Out of fashion by a couple of years at least, but it was still a nice dress.
Poor Beatrice looked as horrified as a heroine from a gothic novel. “You are not going out with Lord Spinton, are you?”
“I am not.” Octavia rose to her feet, retrieving a worn shawl from the top of her oak dressing table. “And I trust you not to say a word about this to Spinton.”
“What would I say?” Beatrice shrugged her plump shoulders. “I do not know anything save for the fact that you are going out dressed as a woman of much lower rank than you are.”
“That is enough.” Would Beatrice make the necessary connections anytime soon?
“You are going with Mr. Sheffield.”
Dear Beatrice. She was a lot of things—terribly naive for one—but she wasn’t stupid.
Octavia fought a smile. She hadn’t felt this good—this
young
—in a long time. “Perhaps.”
Her cousin’s expression was one of fearful concern. What did Beatrice think she was doing, running away with North? Running out to commit some kind of criminal act? North was a former thief taker, for heaven’s sake. He would no more break the law than Duncan Reed himself. Of course, that didn’t mean North was incable of
bending
it.
Beatrice folded her arms across her chest. “Octavia, what are you up to?”
Rolling her eyes at the other woman’s worried tone, Octavia sighed. “All right, I will tell you, but you have to promise not to tell Spinton.”
Dark brown curls bounced as Beatrice gave her head a vigorous shake. “I cannot make that promise until I know what you are up to.”
They stared each other down. Octavia knew she would be the victor in the contest of wills. Her cousin’s curiosity was far stronger than any loyalty she might have to Spinton.
“Fine,” Beatrice relented, churlishly. “I will not tell him.”
Octavia grinned. She knew without reservation that Beatrice would never reveal the truth to Spinton. While Beatrice might have some loyalty to the earl, Octavia was still her cousin, and best friend.
“Yes. I am spending the evening with North.”
Whatever battle raged in her cousin between adventure and propriety, adventure obviously won out—as did her naturally inquisitive nature. “Where are you going?”
“I do not know.” And oddly enough, she didn’t care.
“You do not know?” Well, maybe adventure hadn’t won entirely. Poor Beatrice looked absolutely dumbfounded.
Octavia shook her head as she gave her appearance a second look in the cheval glass. The gown was a lovely muted blue and the shawl a rich plum. Yes, they were a little worn and outdated, but they still flattered her coloring. Dressing down did not mean her vanity had to suffer as well.
“Does that not worry you at all?” Obviously it would worry Beatrice. Beatrice had to know everything. She would never understand that part of the excitement was not knowing. Nor would she understand the kind of trust Octavia felt toward North. Of course she was not worried. Nothing ill would ever befall her while she was with North.
Octavia was honest. “Not really, no.”
“He could take you anywhere!”
“I know.” That was all part of the adventure. Really, could she and Beatrice possibly be any more dissimilar?
Her little cousin was scandalized to be sure. “For all you know, he could be planning to ravish you!”
She should be so fortunate. “He is not.” If her tone wasn’t convincing, the face she made should be.
“How do you know?” Beatrice sank onto the bed, apparently done in. One hand pressed against her impressive
bosom while the other clutched weakly at the patchwork quilt at the foot of the mattress.
Oh good Lord, she was as bad as North with her prodding and poking. “Because, you twit, I know him! He would never behave so poorly.”
Beatrice didn’t seem to mind at all being called a twit. “You
used
to know him. He could have changed drastically in the last decade.”
He had, but not in the ways that truly mattered. Of course, he avoided the real world as often as possible, but he was still her sweet Norrie. He would never hurt her, never compromise her, never put her in a dangerous position unless she asked him too.
And promises be damned, she was very tempted to ask. After all the years between them, North Sheffield was still the only man who ever made her feel quite so warm, quite so weak in the knees and shivery all over.
“Do not fret, Bea,” she assured, going to the dressing table to dab a little more perfume behind her ears. “I am safe with North. Of that you can be certain.”
Still dubious, Beatrice pursed her lips. “You are excited about it, aren’t you?”
How easy it was to feign innocence. “About what?”
“Whatever it is he has planned. You are practically dancing in anticipation.” She made that sound like a bad thing.
“I am not!” Why was she even bothering to deny it? She knew in her heart that it was true. Yes, in her heart she was dancing a jig at double time.
Beatrice was adamant, pointing a finger at her cousin. “You are, and I know what it means.”
Octavia dabbed perfume on her wrists as well. “Then pray tell, enlighten me.”
Beatrice rose from the bed, approaching her as cautiously
as a hunter to a fawn—every step wary and silent. “I remember what you were like when Grandfather took you in. I know how hard you worked to please him by changing yourself into something else, but you never changed, Octavia. People do not change like that. You are simply playing a part, something you have always done too well for your own good.”
Fustian
. “Do not talk so loose.”
“It is true. I can see it in your eyes.”
The perfume bottle hit the vanity surface with a loud thud. “Lord, Bea, you are a dog with a bone! Can you not gnaw in silence?” Why wouldn’t the woman simply shut her mouth? Silence, that was all Octavia wanted.
But her cousin would not be moved from her course. “You can hardly wait for Mr. Sheffield to arrive. You are hoping he will take you someplace where you can be who you really are, with no one to tell on you when it is over. Tomorrow you will go back to being Lady Octavia, but tonight you are going to drop all pretenses, and I dearly hope both you and Mr. Sheffield are prepared for any and all consequences.”
Beatrice was talking nonsense. “What consequences? For goodness’ sake, Beatrice! We are simply going to a party, not an orgy!”
Blossom pink bloomed high on her cousin’s cheeks. “Do not talk to me as though I do not know you, Octavia. It would not matter if Mr. Sheffield was taking you to church; if no one there knew you, the results would be the same. I have never met anyone who needs to have her own way as you do. It is not because you are selfish, it is just the way you are. You have denied your own nature for years, and if you expect to make up for it in one night, I pity all of London.”
Octavia laughed; she couldn’t help it. “You really must do something about that imagination of yours.” Still, she couldn’t deny certain truths in her cousin’s words. Yes, she was looking forward to having a night as herself, when she didn’t
have to put on airs or watch what she said, but she wasn’t hoping North would take her to a place where she knew no one. She wanted to go see old friends. She wanted to see people she used to know, people who used to know her. And for a night, she wanted to experience what it was like to be herself again.
Have her own way? By God, yes she would. She deserved it. Selfish or not, she planned to have it.
Some of the fight seemed to have drained from her cousin, replaced with nothing more than loving concern. That irked Octavia even more than the nagging. Dear Bea, she only wanted what was best for her. Could she not see that Octavia wanted the same thing? “You will be careful, will you not?”
“Of course. I am not naturally reckless.” Not anymore, at any rate. No, not ever. Even her most foolish decisions had been the result of what she had believed at the time to be much serious contemplation.
Or at the urging of others.
Beatrice didn’t look convinced. “Bea, I will have North with me. I will be perfectly safe, I assure you.”
“It is with Mr. Sheffield that I fear for you the most.”
Octavia rolled her eyes. Not this again. “With North? Why, it is his duty to protect me!”
“Who is going to protect you from him? Or for that matter, him from you?”
A bark of disbelieving laughter broke forth from Octavia’s chest. “Neither of us need protecting from each other! Why can you not believe that?”
“I have seen the way you look at him, Octavia, the way he watches you when neither of you realize your masks have slipped. You look at him like a woman looks at a desirable man, and he gazes upon you like a thirsty man upon a cool stream.”
“That’s absurd!” But her heart tripped at it all the same.
Did North really look at her that way? And why did she want him to? Friends shouldn’t behave in such a scandalous manner. But she and North were so much more than friends—what, she couldn’t exactly say.
“Whatever existed between you all those years ago, even if it was nothing more than friendship, has grown. Neither of you are children anymore, Octavia. North Sheffield is a grown man, and he will not be easy for you to control—or control yourself around, I fear.”
Such blunt speaking was astounding coming out of Beatrice’s mouth—and vaguely insulting. “Your opinion of me is not so very flattering, Bea. I can control myself just fine, and so, I am certain, can North.”
Beatrice’s dark gaze was shrewd—too shrewd. “If you say so.”
But Octavia wasn’t ready to give up just yet. “Whatever it is you
perceive
exists between us is nothing more than joy at seeing each other again. You cannot imagine how lovely it is to have North in my life again, and now, thanks to his insinuating himself into my life, I may count on having him in my future as well.”
Her cousin’s expression was one of surprise. “My dear Octavia, you do realize that even this charade of Mr. Sheffield’s will not enable you to see him again once he has captured your admirer.”
No, she did not realize that. Why would she realize that? Now that she and North were known by the public to be acquaintances—even recent ones—there would be no reason that they could not be seen together at a later date. Was there? “Why not?”
“Because he is supposed to try to steal you away from Lord Spinton. It would hardly be seemly to ever be seen in public with him again.”
She was right. Good God, why hadn’t she thought of that herself? More than likely it hadn’t occurred to her because she hadn’t allowed it to. She had just found North again. She wasn’t prepared to let him go.
It didn’t matter whether Spinton discovered the truth about her past. Even if he knew she and North were old friends, she would never be able to spend time with North again, not without causing more than a few tongues to wag.
And no doubt North already knew this himself. No doubt he had known it from the very beginning. He never had any intention of being part of her future. He was going to walk out of her life yet again and expect her to pretend that he meant nothing to her. Worse yet, he was going to continue pretending that she meant nothing to him. Perhaps he could do that, but she didn’t know if she could.
No, that wasn’t true. She knew she could, because she would have to. There wouldn’t be a choice—not if she was going to have the life laid out for her.
What was that North had said to her about living by the rules? There was a time when she would have sneered at a woman like herself, worried about what someone might say, what someone might think. But it wasn’t for herself that she worried. She didn’t want to do anything that might reflect badly upon Beatrice, Spinton, her grandfather, or even North. She really didn’t care if people talked about her, but then she had promised her mother and grandfather that she would live up to their expectations of her.
“I know this must be difficult for you to accept,” Beatrice was saying, “but you gave up all ties with your past for a reason—because they are a hindrance to the future you decided to pursue.”
The future her grandfather chose for her. The future she agreed to because she hadn’t known how much it would hurt
to give up everything else. At the time she had wanted to be a lady, had jumped at the chance to have expensive things and socialize among London’s finest.
What had she known? She’d been a stupid girl, too young to know that wealth wasn’t everything and that London’s finest didn’t necessarily equate to London’s best.
“Yes,” she heard herself reply. “I know. North and I can never be anything but passing acquaintances at the most.”
“The very most.”
“Yes.” The word was bitter on her tongue.
Beatrice’s tone was kind. “I know you believe him to be the best of men, but you must promise me that you will be on your guard with him.”
Still, Octavia persisted. “I do not need to be on guard with North.”
Beatrice was not convinced. “He has attracted the notice of quite a few mamas with marriageable daughters. These women could guarantee him a spot in the lower orders of society, yet he has not married. Why is that?”
“Because all those girls are insipid and foolish.” Or perhaps because he had never found anyone to compare to her…? How could she even entertain such a vain notion?
“Or perhaps he is hoping to land a bigger fish—a bigger fortune.”
If this did not stop soon, Octavia was going to do her cousin a violence. “Do not talk about him like that. You do not know him.”
“Nor do you, not anymore.” Ah, another well-placed jab. Well, she still knew North better than Beatrice ever thought to.
“I know him well enough to know he is no fortune hunter. He has his own fortune.”