Page 44 of Managing the Major

Chapter Eighteen

The Rout at Lady Willoughby’s Home

“So, Octavia, what happened with Major Alastair when I wasn’t there to chaperone?” Genevieve asked as they were on the way back to London on Monday morning.

“Oh, you know…” She waved away the question.

“No, I do not, which is why I asked. Don’t tell me I gave you two opportunities to be alone with him, and nothing happened, especially when you returned Saturday night looking considerably less tidy than when you left.”

Drat! Octavia thought she had been too sleepy to notice. “Nothing, really…we kissed, but—”

“You kissed Major Alastair, and you are saying it was nothing? It’s eighteen-thirty-one, and if you kiss a man, that is still fodder for marriage.”

“What did you think we might do, Genevieve…hold hands? I’m five-and-twenty, and no debutante. Surely, I may kiss someone without drastic repercussions?” She tried not to look guilty, knowing they had done far more than just kiss.

That stolen hour in the barn was pervasive. She secretly relived every moment, often blushing at the memory of her immodesty, though the results were amazing. Last night, she was relieved when they all retired at the same time. She could not be sure where more privacy with Alastair would have led.

Genevieve poked her arm. “Well? At least tell me how it was.”

“Wonderful. But it wasn’t long before we went too far.”

“I should hope so! Had there been any more sparks between you, we could have started a fire. He rode very well yesterday, your major. It was an enjoyable weekend, considering horses were your primary concern.”

Octavia covered Genevieve’s hand where it lay on the cushion. “I can’t thank you enough for accompanying me. And for giving us some time. You were the perfect chaperone.”

“Fairfax is a lovely estate. I can see you happy there, Octavia, even though it’s less than you’re accustomed to now.”

“Oh, bother…you know that doesn’t concern me. I’m just not sure if I want to give up my independence.”

“You may place too much importance on independence. Especially when considering life with a man with whom you can talk freely, laugh easily, and share an immense attraction.”

“It doesn’t seem very sensible when you say it like that,” she admitted. “But Alastair will visit Merrick House often now that Thor is coming back. That will allow us time to find a solution.”

“There are only three answers I perceive: either you stay friends, become lovers, or marry. And I don’t think the first two will suit.”

Octavia didn’t expect Alastair back in London until midday tomorrow, so she gave Thor the rest of the day to settle in and planned to meet Richard in the morning for a ride. She hoped he thought as much of the horse as she did.

After dropping Genevieve at her townhome on Brook Street, she returned home and discovered a considerable amount of correspondence on the table. She was sifting through the letters and cards when her mother appeared.

“Welcome back, my dear,” she said, kissing Octavia on the cheek. “Did you enjoy your visit to Fairfax? I hear it’s a splendid holding. Freya was well-behaved, I trust?” At the sound of her name, Freya cocked her head but knew better than to jump up on Lady Amelia’s gowns. They were wary of each other at best.

“Yes, she entertained Major Fairfax hugely. And tried to bring several mice home with her.”

Lady Amelia shuddered delicately. “I’d much rather hear about the house.”

“I found the manor house quite to my taste, not overdone, but a classic country house, comfortable and charming. The property is sizeable and well landscaped, and the stables—”

Her mother raised a slender hand. “I will forgo a description of the stables, if you please, Octavia.”

“Yes, Mama.” She grinned. “Anyway, Major Fairfax was an excellent host, and the horse I brought suited him perfectly. It’s back at Merrick House for a bit, and the major will come here to ride, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, dear. The house seems very quiet with just us here. But you will take a groom when you ride out with Major Fairfax, won’t you? It wouldn’t do to have a scandal.”

“Of course. How is Valentina?”

“The doctor seems to think the baby will come in a few weeks. Thank heavens, it’s not twins again.”

“I must send her a note,” Octavia replied absently, back to reading her letter. “Mama, the Croydens wish to call tomorrow. Shall I tell them one o’clock? By the bye, Richard is coming to ride the major’s horse at nine thirty. We will most likely ride out to the park.”