Page 48 of Managing the Major

She usually refused the persistent Mr. Redfern, who never failed to step on her toes and sweated profusely, but Octavia was determined to accept every invitation to dance before the night ended.

“Of course,” she accepted, flashing him a brilliant smile. He looked momentarily surprised, but recovered and escorted her to the dance floor, beaming with success.

For the rest of the evening, she danced with partner after partner. She danced with eligible bachelors, distinguished gentlemen, Sir William, and her brother. Octavia soon lost count. When she wasn’t dancing, admirers surrounded her. Alastair spent much of the time scowling on the side.

Once, while dancing the quadrille, she passed Lady Crawford, who caught her eye with a distinctly smug look on her face. After the dance ended, Octavia evaded Alastair and fled to her mother and Fiona, who were discussing the new spring fashions. She joined them, and Lady Amelia paused mid-sentence, a worried look on her face.

“Is everything all right, my dear? I’ve never seen you dance so much in one evening. Shouldn’t you be spending some time with Major Fairfax? He looks distinctly out of sorts.”

“Nothing is amiss, Mama. I’m just in the mood to dance tonight. It’s not my fault if the major can’t partner me. What should I do—not dance? I hardly think that’s fair.”

“Octavia,” her mother chided, “what a graceless remark. I’ve never heard you speak so impolitely.”

A flush crept up her cheeks, and tears stung her eyes. Fiona reached over to take Octavia’s hand with a sympathetic squeeze.

“A chara, it is obvious something’s wrong, but we won’t press you to talk about it. Just remember, men are usually dûr, but best to take it in stride.”

She dabbed at her eyes. “And what is the meaning of dûr, Fiona?”

“Oh, thickheaded, stubborn, clueless—all of that. Richard is usually oblivious when he behaves so badly, and I must wait until he comes to his senses. Men rarely apologize.”

“So true,” Lady Amelia agreed.

The lilting notes of a Scotch Reel started, and yet another partner Octavia promised to dance with came to lay claim. Hopefully, it was the last one of the night because she had both aching feet and an aching head.

When it was time to leave, Alastair appeared and stood stiffly at her side. The chiseled lines of his jaw clenched as she refused to acknowledge him, but there was little he could say with Lady Amelia standing there.

“Miss Merrick, may I call on you tomorrow?” he finally managed.

“Tomorrow is not a good day, I’m afraid.” She repressed a twinge of guilt at his hollow expression and forged on. “I wasn’t planning on riding in the morning since we are here so late tonight, and Mama and I intend to spend the afternoon with my sister, Mrs. Spencer.” They had discussed no such thing, as her mother’s raised brow revealed. “Perhaps I shall see you at Almack’s.”

Bowing reluctantly, he turned to leave, but Lady Amelia called him back.

“Major Alastair, please do come ride your horse on Thursday morning. Octavia just told me today that he has an excessive amount of energy. If she is unavailable, I shall be there and, of course, our groom Peter can attend you.”

It was Octavia’s turn to lift a brow in disbelief, and Alastair looked back and forth between them, hesitant to answer.

“Of course, you may ride Thor whenever you please,” she said ungraciously. “I shall try to be there Thursday morning.”

“And we’re looking forward to tea that afternoon, aren’t we, Octavia?” her mother continued, blithely ignoring the tension swirling around her. “Please send Mrs. and Miss Croyden over, Major Alastair, so I might wish them good night.”

“Miss Merrick—” he tried once more.

“Good night, Major Alastair,” Octavia said firmly.

Straightening his shoulders, he made a perfunctory bow and turned on his heel.

“Well, I hope you’re satisfied, Octavia. I don’t know what happened tonight, but—”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Mama,” she pleaded. “Please don’t ask again.”

“Perhaps you should say goodbye to Richard and Fiona rather than snub Major Fairfax again if he returns. By the way, I’ve decided we will see Valentina tomorrow, since you so kindly brought that up. I’ll send a note in the morning and see if one o’clock suits.”

“I’m going to call on Genevieve tomorrow morning,” she said miserably, feeling all of ten years old.

“You are welcome to do whatever you wish, Octavia.”

How could she prove her actions were justified without explaining that she had found Alastair in a very compromising situation? Lady Crawford had practically been in his arms. Well…perhaps not exactly, but it was obvious they were involved in some kind of romantic relationship. She heard Lady Crawford express her feelings quite ardently, and there was no denying Alastair looked wrought by passion.