Page 18 of Managing the Major

Was he flirting with her? What cheek the man had! “Are you a reader of Shakespeare, Major Fairfax? I’m surprised you found time in the midst of so many military accomplishments.”

He was most definitely amused. “I have an appetite for a wide variety of literature.”

Octavia fanned herself, trying to think of a suitable answer. The way he said appetite was almost scandalous.

She was relieved when the appearance of his sister and niece cut the interchange short. After exchanging greetings, she led the way to their reserved row.

The major helped his sister and niece to the far end, which left an empty seat next to him. Did he mean for her to sit there? She needed a place for Sir William, preferably next to Mrs. Croyden.

“If you would be so kind as to move one seat closer, Major Fairfax, we’ll save the last seat for Sir William.” Closing her fan, Octavia sat beside the major. As soon as she did, she realized her mistake. He was very close, and she caught a whiff of his cologne, something aromatic—sandalwood, perhaps with cloves. A flicker of heat licked its way down her body. Thank goodness her mother was back, and Richard and Fiona stood at her side.

“Before her performance, let me introduce the Countess of Seldon. And this is my son, the Earl of Seldon. Richard and Fiona, this is Major Fairfax, whom I have mentioned, his sister Mrs. Croyden, and her daughter Miss Croyden.

The three made haste to rise, and Richard extended his hand.

“Let us not stand on ceremony. Major Fairfax, I am well aware of your service to England, and it is indeed a privilege to meet you.”

The major accepted Richard’s handshake firmly. “The pleasure is mine, Lord Seldon.”

Fiona extended a gloved hand, and he took it, bowing low. “Countess, we await your performance with great anticipation.”

“Thank you, Major Fairfax. Mrs. Croyden, Miss Croyden, are you enjoying the Season thus far? My daughter is only eleven, so I have some time before all the anxiety of a debut. For now, painting is far more interesting to her than dresses and ribbons. Octavia is quite a talented artist as well, though she seldom draws anymore; her time is so occupied with horses.”

“How delightful,” Major Fairfax said with interest.

“I drew mostly as a child,” Octavia hastened to say. “Now, I rarely pick up a pencil, except for an occasional sketch of my terrier. Fallon shows far more talent than I ever did.”

“I like to think that she inherited it from you, a dhierfiúr.”

“What are you planning to play tonight, Countess?” Mrs. Croyden asked. Abigail was silent, her eyes wide with awe.

Octavia couldn’t blame her. Fiona’s wealth of ebony hair, fashioned a la Grecian, framed sparkling green eyes, and a beautifully cut gown accentuated her tall, willowy figure.

“I’ve prepared a piece by Felix Mendelssohn, a fine young German composer. The second is a nocturne, written for my husband.”

Richard stood a full head above her, clad in a perfectly tailored coat of charcoal. Their eyes met, and the depth of emotion between them was undeniable. How did such feelings begin? Was it anything like her unsettling awareness of Major Fairfax? The way her heart beat faster, and her body flooded with warmth at the sight of him?

The earl extended his arm to Fiona. “Forgive us, but it’s time for my wife to go to the piano and prepare. We look forward to rejoining you after her performance.”

Octavia remembered sitting in the audience and watching Richard turn the pages of Fiona’s music for the very first time. It was at an event very much like this, and she had been twelve years old. They had fallen in love, married, and had two children, and she stood here very much the same person at twenty-five. She shook off the disquieting thought.

Major Fairfax waited until Octavia found her place and then lowered his tall frame into the seat next to hers.

“Might I offer you my program, Miss Merrick?”

She took the paper, and her gloved fingers brushed his, which disconcerted her further. She felt off balance and unsure, and opened the program quickly.

“The camellias in your hair have a lovely fragrance. Wherever did you find some this time of year?”

She continued to read, trying to recover her composure at his nearness. “Mother enjoys having flowers all season, and there’s a hothouse near the wharf that delivers them.”

She couldn’t think of anything to say, and to fill the silence, she carefully folded the program and set it on her lap, noticing that her gauzy skirt lay draped across his trousered leg. Taking an unsteady breath, she rearranged the dress, carefully avoiding touching the buff fabric stretched over the width of his thigh. The corded muscle flexed as the silk slid away, and her stomach quivered oddly. What was wrong with her?

Octavia looked up. She noticed that the brown irises of his eyes held green-gold flecks, and his lashes and brows were brown rather than the blondish hair that curled over his collar. A muscle ticked in Major Fairfax’s cheek, and his eyes darkened.

In the background, she heard a series of muted chords, progressing to a ripple of glissandos and scales. Fiona was warming up. Still, his gaze held, and the moment stretched between them.

There was a flurry of people behind them, and Octavia looked away, breaking the spell. Sir William Denton had taken the empty chair at the end of the row and sat conversing with Mrs. Croyden. It seemed that her plan of bringing them together had met with success.