“We had it in honor of Lady Cuttyngham,” her mother shared.
The humor left her father’s face and his eyes became soft with understanding. “Dare I ask how she is faring?”
“She is not doing well,” Roswell shared.
“I know your father’s absence is felt deeply at the House of Lords, but I do believe he is right where he should be… at his wife’s side,” her father said.
Her mother nodded. “Well said, but let’s not dwell on things we cannot change this evening.”
“Understood,” her father responded. “Have you received word from Fredrick?”
“No, we haven’t,” Roswell said.
Octavia placed her spoon down and shared, “That isn’t entirely true. One of Fredrick’s comrades called upon us and informed us that he is doing well.”
Roswell visibly tensed. “I do not trust that man.”
“You don’t know him,” Octavia argued.
“He is a Frenchman. That is all I need to know about him,” Roswell said.
Octavia pressed her lips together before saying, “You are being very close-minded, especially since Mr. Barnard came all this way from the Continent to speak to us.”
Her father interjected, “I must side with Roswell on this. The French are not to be trusted.”
“But he works with Wellington,” Octavia argued. “Surely if Wellington trusts the man, we should as well.”
“A leopard cannot change his spots,” Anette’s father declared.
“If I didn’t think I could trust him, I would have let my peacock loose on him,” Octavia said. “That would have scared him off.”
Anette’s mother shook her head. “A peacock is a terrible choice for a pet. Why didn’t you get a dog instead?”
“I thought a peacock would be more fun,” Octavia admitted. “But I was wrong. Now I can hardly go into our gardens without being chased.”
The footmen moved forward and collected the bowls of soup. As they stepped back, Anette’s father turned his attention towards Octavia. “How are you enjoying this Season?”
“It has been rather enjoyable,” she replied.
“Have any suitors caught your eye?” he asked.
“Not yet.”
Her father bobbed his head in approval. “You are still young and have plenty of time to make an advantageous match.”
Anette worked hard to keep the frown off her face. Her father was constantly lecturing her on the importance of securing an offer of marriage, but he was encouraging Octavia to be patient. Was he so eager to marry his own daughter off? Perhaps he just wanted to rid himself of her.
“Thank you, my lord,” Octavia acknowledged.
Her father shifted his gaze towards Anette. “You are looking lovely tonight,” he said. “Is that a new gown?”
“It is,” Anette replied, secretly pleased that her father had noticed such a detail about her.
“With any luck, you will have some suitors soon,” her father said. His tone was light, but there was a seriousness to his words.
“I am not looking for suitors,” Anette said.
“That is poppycock,” her father declared with a wave of his hand. “Every available young woman should be in earnest pursuit of a husband.”
