“I have a good life, and I have no right to complain,” Octavia shared in a soft voice.
Harred stopped on the path and turned to face her. “Voicing your fears and concerns is not complaining. It is coping with what life has thrown at you. There is no shame in being honest with yourself and with others. It is what makes you human.”
“I’m afraid I struggle with that since I do not like showing my emotions.”
“Then you must change that,” Harred said. “Society wants you to believe that showing a crack in your emotions is a weakness, but I believe it is a strength.”
Octavia looked doubtful as she held his gaze. “You make it sound so easy.”
“Then I must have said it wrong,” Harred joked. “I am excellent at giving advice, but I do struggle with taking my own.”
“Perhaps we can agree to be honest with each other on what we are feeling,” Octavia suggested.
Harred nodded, knowing that nothing would make him happier. He wanted Octavia to always feel comfortable enough with him to speak the truth. “I can agree to that.”
Octavia glanced over her shoulder and said, “It would appear that Fredrick is rather interested in the gardens.”
Fredrick. How had Harred completely forgotten that his friend had accompanied them? He had been so distracted by Octavia that everything else had been a blur.
In a hushed voice, Octavia said, “I do worry about Fredrick. He is home from the war, but I wonder if a part of him never returned.”
“He seems fine. Has he said anything?”
“No, and that is the problem,” Octavia remarked. “He seems like his old self, but I worry that it is just an act that he is showing the world. He knows what is expected of him and he is just complying.”
Harred glanced over at Fredrick, who was standing a short distance away as he admired a tall plant. “You may just be reading too much into it.”
Octavia didn’t look convinced. “Perhaps,” she muttered.
“You are a good sister,” Harred said.
With a huff, Octavia responded, “I think Fredrick and Roswell might disagree with you. They think I am a little too ‘hoydenish.’”
“Why? Because you are not conforming to what Society expects of you?” Harred asked. “I think that is one of the things I admire most about you.”
Octavia cocked her head. “You admire me?”
“Surely you must know that,” Harred replied. “You are unlike any other woman I have ever known.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Octavia asked lightly.
How Harred wished that they were alone so he could tell Octavia just how much he truly admired her. Would she welcome his advances? He truly hoped so. He wasn’t about tolet her go without a fight. She was the reason he had started smiling again.
As he debated on what to say, Fredrick shouted, “Sniper!”
The words had just left Fredrick’s mouth when he charged towards them, knocking them to the ground, just as the sound of a rifle discharging echoed throughout Vauxhall Gardens.
Octavia lay on the ground, stunned. She wasn’t quite sure what had just happened and her hip hurt where it had made contact with the hard path.
Fredrick’s voice came from somewhere next to her. “Are you hurt?” he half-asked, half-demanded.
She looked at him and saw that his face was etched with worry. “I don’t believe so,” she replied as she moved to sit up.
“I need you to be sure because we need to leave this place. Now!” Fredrick glanced over his shoulder. “We must leave before the rifle is reloaded.”
The panic in Fredrick’s voice let Octavia know of the gravity of the situation. There wasn’t time to lollygag. They had to leave, but her brother was more concerned about her. This would not do. She needed to focus on the task at hand.
Fredrick extended his hand to her. “Are you able to walk?”
