Page 2 of The Make-Believe Marriage
The rain had renewed by the time they reached the Thorne townhouse he shared with his brothers. Ambrose, who was the eldest of the Thornes, was Duke of Huntsford and owned the house. Octavian and their youngest brother, Julius, both of them bachelors and not often in London other than on business, shared the home with Ambrose. That would soon have to change since Ambrose was married to Adela, one of Syd’s best friends, and they were busy starting a family.
But for now, they were one big, happy family residing together.
Octavian was the only Thorne in London at the moment. Ambrose and Adela were in Devonshire excavating more fossils while Julius was in York attending to family business matters. Octavian was due to travel north to Glasgow and Greenock on behalf of the Royal Navy at the end of the week, an assignment he could not refuse while still actively commissioned.
An idea sprang to mind, but he was not going to discuss it with Syd until they had changed out of their wet clothes and got warm liquids into them.
He took her straight inside as soon as the carriage drew up to the Thorne front gate. “Thank you, Hastings,” he said to the driver. “I’ll have no further need of the carriage tonight.”
“Very good, Captain,” the man replied with a nod, obviously relieved to be getting out of the rain himself.
Syd said nothing as they walked inside, but held him back when he was about to lead her upstairs. Her eyes widened in surprise. Well, not surprise so much as shock and horror once the import of what being alone with him meant. “Octavian, do you expect me to spend the night here with you? I–”
“Not another word, Syd. What difference does it make? The best thing that could happen is for word of your indiscretion to get out and cause Sir Henry to refuse to marry you.”
She did not appear to like the idea at all. “But then he will hurt my father.”
“Your father is a little weasel who will manage to slip out of his punishment somehow.” Octavian tried to suppress his anger but could not and it resounded in his voice. “Besides, it might do him some good to get knocked about.”
“Octavian!”
“The man obviously needs sense pounded into him. Why are you so considerate of him when he has never spared a thoughtfor you or your mother? He’s burned away the Harcourt assets at the gaming tables or on fanciful business schemes, and does not give a fig about having you bear the punishment for his actions.”
Since he was still holding onto Syd’s hand, he felt the ripples of shame flow through her. “Sorry, Syd. Falling off a roof in the pouring rain tends to put me in bad humor.”
“My father is an awful scoundrel,” she said with aching sadness. “I cannot blame you for despising him. But he has been a loving father to me. He does not mean to do the things he does. He keeps thinking his luck will turn with the next roll of the dice or the next ridiculous business venture.”
“That does not excuse him.” He led her upstairs to his bedchamber and lit a fire in the hearth. The wood had already been stacked neatly in the grate, so it took him little time to get a healthy blaze going. While it was not a cold night, dampness filled the air and Syd was shivering.
Octavian raked a hand through his hair.
What was he to do with her?
She was desperate for help and too ashamed ever to ask for it. Her heart was so battered, she did not even comment when he strode to her side and removed her coat and cap.
Octavian studied her by the golden firelight that illuminated his bedchamber.
She had donned boys clothes that were a few sizes too big for her. Cap, shirt and jacket, breeches, and sturdy boots. Tendrils of wet hair were pasted to her cheeks, and her glorious mass of ginger-blonde hair was barely held up by the few pins that had not yet fallen out.
She was soaked, bedraggled, and looked achingly beautiful.
“I’ll fetch you a nightgown and robe from Adela’s armoire,” he said with a rasp to his voice. “Dry yourself off as best as you can. I won’t be gone long.”
“Do you expect me to sleep in here?” Her eyes, as she now gazed at him, were an ensorcelling green, as translucent as the crystal lochs one encountered in the Scottish highlands. They were also filled with pain and humiliation.
“Yes. But we are not going to share the bed, if this is what has you concerned. I am not going to touch you, Syd. You have my word of honor. Let me get those dry garments for you and we’ll figure out the rest of it once we have both dried off.”
He left before she could object.
It took only a moment for Octavian to dig through Adela’s things and pull out a sturdy, cotton nightgown and light woolen robe. He would leave Syd to go through the rest of Adela’s belongings tomorrow and pull out whatever gowns and unmentionables she needed for their journey.
What else could he do but take her to Scotland with him? It was the only way to keep her out of Sir Henry’s clutches. He had planned to leave at the end of the week, but there was nothing to stop him from leaving tomorrow instead.
All he needed to do was keep weapons out of Syd’s reach when he told her what he intended to do. No discussion. She was coming with him.
And he was going to marry her.
“Oh, you’re back already.” Syd had done little more than pull out the pins in her hair by the time he returned to his bedchamber. It was a large, well-appointed room with a big, canopied bed, a desk, several comfortable chairs, a thick, oriental rug, and an ornate Chinese screen that he had received as a gift from the Admiralty in advance of an upcoming promotion.
