Page 52 of Managing the Major

Chapter Twenty-One

An Awkward Evening at Almack’s

Octavia enjoyed dancing with Captain Prescott; he was a genial and skilled partner. They had little time to talk to each other since the movements of the quadrille often separated them, but when the dance finished, the captain offered to bring her a glass of lemonade. She accepted, noting that Alastair was engaged in conversation with Richard and wondered if they were discussing the trip to Epsom Downs.

Would she still go? It all depended on their discussion tomorrow, and right now she wasn’t sure what he could say to take away the memory of Mrs. Crawford clinging to him and declaring her undying affection. There must be something between them; she wouldn’t have done so without encouragement from him. At least, she could never imagine a woman behaving that way without some reciprocity.

Captain Prescott returned, followed by Abigail, and handed her a glass of lemonade. Nerissa was not with her daughter, and Octavia noted with satisfaction that she was dancing with Sir William Denton.

She sipped the lemonade and tried not to make a face. You’d think with all the vouchers sold at Almack’s, there wouldn’t be a need to water down the lemonade. She smiled at Abigail, who clasped her hands together in excitement.

“Miss Merrick, Uncle Alastair has spoken with Mr. Von Berger’s parents, and he was very impressed. I am so glad it went well.”

“And where is young Mr. Von Berger now?”

“He’s dancing with Miss Pettigrew; I told him he must dance with other young ladies, or we’ll become the subject of talk.”

“That’s very wise of you, Abigail. Have you encountered the Count Von Berger before in your diplomatic duties, Captain Prescott?”

“I’ve heard the name, yes. Although we’ve never met, he is well-respected. If his son were to offer for Abigail, she and my aunt should leap at it as fast as hounds can clear brush.” Abigail giggled, and Octavia’s lips twitched against her will. It was not a proper comment at all, but she found Captain Prescott’s irreverent humor greatly entertaining.

Genevieve and Lord Hope arrived to greet them, but Octavia had little opportunity to keep her friend company. They spoke briefly and agreed to talk after the meeting with Alastair in the morning. She had promised Richard a quadrille; he was at the ball by himself while Fiona stayed home preparing for a concert on Friday. When he came to claim her, Octavia said nothing of his conversation with Alastair, and he offered no information, so when the dance ended, they discussed the prospects of his entry at Epsom Downs and Fiona’s upcoming appearance for Countess Lieven and her impressive circle of friends.

There was no sign of Lady Crawford until the doors were about to close at eleven. She appeared with her husband, Viscount Hurley, and he took her immediately onto the dance floor. Alastair, occupied with his sister and Sir William, took no notice of Lady Crawford’s arrival.

While attempting to watch Alastair’s reaction, Octavia stumbled in the waltz, steadied by the quick reaction of her current partner, the Marquis of Fellingham.

“Is aught amiss, Miss Merrick?” He was a staple of the ton, an angular man with sardonic dark good looks, and somewhat older than Richard. She didn’t discover until reaching twenty that he had married her brother’s former mistress. But the marquis was a skilled partner and entertained her with all the latest gossip; besides, she knew it irritated Richard to see them together. All good reasons to dance with him rather frequently and annoy her brother.

“Lord Fellingham, are you familiar with the Viscount and Lady Crawford?”

“I don’t know her very well, but it seems he found the current viscountess in Europe, and it is not the first marriage for either of them. It is, in fact, his third and she’s much younger, which has caused tongues to wag. Are you acquainted with them, Miss Merrick? I notice she glances at us rather often, and somehow I don’t think that interest is directed towards me.”

“We’ve met once, and she seemed pleasant enough.” To divert further questions on the subject, she quickly brought up the latest opera at Covent Garden, which he had seen recently. The marquis wickedly shredded the production, focusing on the tenor who had broken voice twice.

When the dance ended, he bowed over her hand with a twisted smile. “I see the earl is frowning at us; I think it might be wise for me to go home to the marchioness.”

“I am so very sorry to hear your wife is not in good health, Lord Fellingham.”

“You sound sincere, Miss Merrick, and we’re grateful for the concern. I shall carry your regards to Lady Eleanor and tell her you are still refreshingly direct. Ah, here comes Lady Hope; she desires your company, it seems.”

The rest of the night passed uneventfully, save for the very end when she was waiting for her mother to finish her last round of goodbyes, and Lady Crawford cornered her as she stood alone.

“Miss Merrick,” she pleaded in obvious distress, “if you would give me but a moment of your time…”

Octavia wanted nothing more than to run in the opposite direction, but that would only cause speculation. She was neatly trapped.

“I’m so…mortified—there is no other word for it—that you came upon me with Alastair—Major Fairfax—in such an intimate situation last night,” Lady Crawford continued in a rush. “Please, I beg you, do not believe the worst of me.”

If only someone would interrupt, she could escape. But Octavia looked around in vain, and there was no rescue in sight. “Lady Crawford, I wish only to forget that night. You may rely on my discretion.”

As she moved to step around her, the distraught woman put her hand out beseechingly.

“Don’t let him deceive you as well, Miss Merrick.”

She froze. “I don’t know to whom you refer, Lady Crawford, nor do I wish to know.”

“Major Alastair, of course,” she replied with concern. “I trusted him once, too. He is charming and persuasive, and I must warn you—”