A Bride in Her Sister’s Place (Preview)

Chapter One

“Evelyn! Oh, Evelyn, wake up!”

Octavia’s voice travelled through the hallways, and Evelyn awoke with a start. The soft morning light filtered through the lace curtains of her bedchamber, casting delicate patterns across her sleeping form. She stretched before slowly sitting up straight, the last threads of her dream fading away in the morning light.

“Another day of wedding preparations,” she murmured to herself, the exhaustion dissipating to make room for something akin to excitement – of course, the excitement, however, was not without a smidge of … well, something else.

Though she was genuinely happy for her sister Octavia’s impending nuptials to the esteemed Nathaniel Hartley, Evelyn couldn’t help feeling a twinge of envy. At nineteen, she was still considered rather young for serious courtship, while her beautiful older sister had captured the heart of one of the most eligible bachelors in the county. Evelyn sighed softly to herself as she thought of her sister’s betrothed.

Evelyn’s gaze drifted to the window, where the first light of dawn was painting the sky in soft hues of pink and gold. The manor’s gardens stretched out before her, shrouded in the early morning mist, and she could just make out the vague silhouettes of the rose bushes her mother tended. She closed her eyes with a serene smile appearing around her lips.

She couldn’t help thinking about the countless mornings she had spent in this very spot, dreaming of her own future. Of grand balls where she would dance the night away, of tender declarations of love from a handsome suitor … and, of course, eventually, of a wedding day filled with joy and promise.

It was not as though she were jealous of Octavia … but it was difficult to understand how her sister could seem so unaffected by her own wedding. With a rueful smile, Evelyn turned back to her dressing table, her fingers absently tracing the embroidery of the nightgown Octavia had gifted her what felt like a lifetime ago.

Thoughts of Octavia naturally led to thoughts of her betrothed, and a deep blush coloured Evelyn’s cheeks.

Nathaniel Hartley was everything a young lady could wish for in a husband–he was handsome, wealthy, and kind. She could still vividly remember the first time she had seen him–at a garden party the previous summer. He had stood out among the other gentlemen–his tall frame and broad shoulders had cut an impressive figure in his impeccably tailored coat.

But it was his smile that had truly captured her attention. When he laughed at something Octavia had said, his entire face had lit up–crinkling at the corners of his eyes in a way that made Evelyn’s heart flutter. She had watched him with a strange feeling she’d never experienced before blooming in her chest as he offered Octavia his arm for a turn about the garden.

With a shake of her head, Evelyn attempted to rid herself of these thoughts. She was happy for her sister–of course she was. She could only hope that she would find a husband as worthy as Nathaniel–and as kind and handsome. She was certain he would fit in perfectly with their family.

In truth, she quite liked him a lot. She could still recall the first time he had truly seen her–seen her in a way that her family had not.

“Why, look at you, young lady Evelyn,” he had said, his tone gentle. It was shortly after his courtship with Octavia had come to fruition. “Soon, you will have many a man of the court vying for your attention,” he had continued.

She had blushed then–as she did now–overwhelmed by the attention of the broad-shouldered man.

She shook her head quickly and rose to her feet, looking through the dresses. She finally chose a simple muslin gown in a becoming shade of green–the colour she had worn when Nathaniel had told her that she was pretty. Though she knew he was betrothed to her sister and that he looked at her as little more than a nuisance, she had a strong feminine urge to have him find her pretty. She found it quite surprising that Octavia had seemingly decided a call to wake her was enough–she half-expected her sister to barge into the chamber and see that she had risen.

A frown adorned her forehead as she thought of the chaos that awaited her downstairs. Octavia had insisted on hosting the wedding at Windermere Manor, a decision that had thrown the entire household into a frenzy of preparation.

“Miss Evelyn?” A gentle knock accompanied the voice of Sarah, her lady’s maid. “Your mother requests your presence in the drawing room to discuss flower arrangements for the ceremony.”

Evelyn sighed, tying off her simple braid. “Thank you, Sarah. I shall be down shortly.”

As she made her way downstairs, the buzz of activity was impossible to ignore. Servants scurried about, arms laden with linens and decorations. The delicious aroma of baked goods wafted from the kitchen, where Mrs Baker, their cook, was undoubtedly testing recipes for the wedding breakfast.

In the drawing room, Evelyn found her mother, the Viscountess of Thynn, Lady Eleanor Windermere, surrounded by an array of flower samples. The older woman’s brow was furrowed in concentration as she compared various blooms.

“Ah, Evelyn, there you are,” her mother said, looking up with a smile. “Come, dear. What do you think of these roses for the centrepieces?”

Evelyn dutifully examined the flowers and nodded. “They are beautiful, Mother,” she said quietly –all the while knowing that her opinion did not truly hold much sway. “Roses are quite traditional and symbolic of love,” her mother muttered. “But lilies hold an innocence … a pure beauty …”

Evelyn looked around curiously, suddenly noticing a rather important absence. In the midst of discussions about flowers, the bride-to-be, whose voice had awoken her, was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is Octavia this morning?” Evelyn enquired, trying to keep the disapproval from her voice. “Surely she would want to have a say in these decisions.”

Eleanor’s smile faltered slightly. “Your sister is … indisposed this morning. She asked that we make the selections on her behalf.”

Evelyn bit back a retort, knowing it would do no good to voice her frustrations. It seemed that Octavia had been ’indisposed’ more often than not lately, leaving the bulk of the wedding preparations to fall to their mother and the household staff.

“Perhaps I could take some samples up to her room later,” Evelyn suggested, not wanting to let the matter drop entirely. “She might feel more inclined to participate if she did not have to leave her chambers.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, dear,” Eleanor replied, though her tone suggested she doubted the efficacy of such an attempt.

As they continued their floral deliberations, Evelyn’s thoughts drifted to Nathaniel Hartley once more. She had always admired him, finding his quiet strength and kind demeanour a refreshing change from some of the more boisterous young men of their acquaintance. The thought of him binding himself to someone who seemed so disinterested in their union made her heart ache for him. He was one of the few young men who truly spoke to her like she was more than a child.

Evelyn’s thoughts disappeared when the doors swung open to reveal their father, Theodore Windermere. His usually jovial face was creased with concern as he addressed his wife, hardly taking notice of his youngest daughter.

“Eleanor, my dear,” he said, his voice low, “I have just received word that Captain Felix Carrington will be joining us for dinner this evening. Octavia has … requested his company.”

Evelyn’s ears perked up at this news. She had heard whispers of this Captain Carrington, an officer Octavia had met during her recent trip to London. Though she was young–and possibly a bit naive–she had noticed how her sister’s eyes sparkled when she spoke of this young captain.

“But Father,” Evelyn protested, unable to contain herself, “surely it is inappropriate to entertain another gentleman so close to the wedding? What would Nathaniel think?”

Theodore’s expression softened as he looked at his youngest. “Now, now, Evelyn. Captain Carrington is merely passing through on his way to his new posting. It would be ungracious of us not to extend our hospitality.”

Evelyn nodded, chastened but unconvinced. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this visit than simple hospitality. Still, she knew full well that her father would not share his concerns with her if he had any–and as such, she excused herself, leaving him in the company of only her mother.

It was at least an hour before her mother called her once more, and as the day grew on and she kept herself preoccupied with mundane wedding tasks, she couldn’t entirely rid herself of the growing unease in the back of her mind.

“Mother,” she requested softly as they finished reviewing place settings for the wedding breakfast, “might I be excused, please? I promised Lily and Jane that I would meet them by the stream this afternoon.”

A flicker of concern crossed Eleanor’s features, though she nodded after a long silence. “I suppose so, dear,” she said at last. “But please do not stay out too late. And do be careful. Remember, we must all be presentable for dinner … with the captain.”

Grateful for the escape, Evelyn hurried to her bedchamber to change into a simpler dress–one more suitable for an afternoon outdoors. As she made her way across the grounds towards the babbling stream that marked the edge of their property, she felt the tension begin to leave her shoulders.

The sight of her two dearest friends, Lily Miller and Jane Blackwood, brought a genuine smile to Evelyn’s face. The three young women had been inseparable since childhood, sharing secrets, dreams, and the occasional mischievous adventure. Only they knew about the secret dreams she harboured in her chest–though there was one that even they were unaware of.

“Evelyn!” Lily called out, waving enthusiastically as she approached. “We were beginning to think you were no longer coming.”

“And miss the chance to escape all this wedding madness? Never,” Evelyn replied with a laugh, settling down on the grassy bank beside her friends. She shifted her dress up slightly to reveal her legs, basking them in the sun and throwing her head back to breathe in the air, so free of constraints.

“So, Evelyn,” Jane began, a mischievous glint in her eye, “how does it feel to know you will soon have the dashing Nathaniel Hartley as a brother-in-law? I daresay half the young ladies in the county are green with envy.”

Evelyn’s smile faltered slightly, and her heart skipped a beat. “He is a fine man,” she agreed, choosing her words carefully. “I only hope he and Octavia will be happy together.”

Lily, ever the perceptive friend, caught the note of hesitation in her friend’s voice. “Is something the matter, Evelyn? You don’t seem as excited about the wedding as one might expect.”

Evelyn sighed and plucked absently at a blade of grass. “It is just … Octavia seems so disinterested in all the preparations,” she admitted, lowering her voice to a mere whisper. “And now this Captain Carrington is coming to dinner …”

Her friends exchanged curious glances. “Captain Carrington?” Jane repeated. “Who is he?”

“An officer Octavia met in London,” Evelyn explained, the words tumbling out in a rush. “She has been talking about him incessantly since she returned, and now she’s insisted on inviting him to dine with us mere weeks before her wedding!”

Lily reached out, giving Evelyn’s hand a comforting squeeze. “Oh, dearest Evelyn,” she said gently. “Perhaps it is nothing to worry about. I am certain that Octavia is simply trying to maintain her connection to society before settling into married life. Surely, your parents would not allow anything improper!”

Evelyn nodded, though her smile lacked conviction. Though her friend’s words made sense, she just could not quite bring herself to believe it. The three girls lapsed into a contemplative silence, broken only by the gentle gurgling of the stream and the occasional chirp of a nearby bird.

As the afternoon light faded, Evelyn was the first to rise–pulling her dress down to cover her ankles once more. “I suppose I need to return home and prepare for dinner with the captain.”

She grimaced as she said this, and her friends flashed her sympathetic grins. The walk back to the manor seemed far too short, and the second she found herself inside the manor, she was once more dragged into the flurry of activity that preceded any formal dinner.

It was nearly time for the captain to arrive when she finally reached her bedchamber, Sarah in tow. Evelyn remained quiet as Sarah helped her dress in a pale blue gown, one more suitable for the evening. Though she was quiet, her mind was racing. She did not understand why Octavia insisted on inviting another man to dinner. Surely, she tried convincing herself, Octavia would not jeopardize her engagement to Nathaniel? Evelyn was certain that the captain could not be as handsome, gentle, or kind as she knew Nathaniel to be.

She turned around quickly when she heard the sound of carriage wheels on gravel and rushed to the window. In the fading light, she could make out the figure of a man alighting from the vehicle. Even from a distance, she could see that Captain Felix Carrington cut a dashing figure in his red coat, his posture straight and proud.

A movement in the corner of her eye caught Evelyn’s attention. She glanced to the side, suppressing a gasp, when she saw Octavia standing at her own window, a strange expression on her face as she watched the captain’s arrival. It was a look Evelyn had never seen before–perhaps it was excitement or anxiety … though there was something else she could not quite name.

The dinner that followed was, to Evelyn’s eyes, an excruciating affair. Captain Carrington proved to be charming and witty, regaling the family with tales of his adventures in London and his military exploits. Yet Evelyn couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss.

She watched, her food largely untouched, as Octavia laughed at the captain’s jokes, her eyes sparkling in a way she had never seen before. Even her parents seemed rather charmed by their guest. Their parents seemed oblivious to the undercurrent of tension as they laughed at his jokes.

“Please … excuse me,” Evelyn mumbled as dinner drew to a close and the family made their way to the parlour. “I just … need some fresh air,” she explained at her father’s curious look before rising. With a shake of her head, she went up to her bedchamber to grab a shawl before rushing outside. The cool air was truly a welcome relief after the stifling atmosphere of the dining room, and she pressed a hand on her heart, willing her breath to come more easily.

Though she could not quite lay her finger upon it, something was bothering her.

She wandered aimlessly among the flowerbeds, her mind whirling with conflicting thoughts and emotions. So lost was she in her ruminations that she almost missed the sound of hushed voices from a nearby alcove.

Curiosity overcoming her sense of propriety, Evelyn crept closer, her heart pounding in her chest. As she peered around a conveniently placed topiary, her eyes widened.

There, half-hidden in the shadows stood Octavia and Captain Carrington. They stood far closer than propriety allowed, their heads bent together in intimate conversation. As Evelyn watched, frozen in horror, the captain reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from Octavia’s cheek.

“Octavia!” Evelyn cried out, unable to contain herself any longer. “What on earth do you think you are doing?”

The pair sprang apart, guilt written clearly across their faces. Octavia’s expression quickly morphed from surprise to anger as she looked at her younger sister, her cheeks reddening.

“Evelyn,” she hissed, her voice low. “How dare you spy on me? This is none of your concern!”

“None of my concern?” Evelyn repeated, her voice fraught with indignation. “You are engaged to be married, Octavia! To Nath … Lord Crestmoor.”

Captain Carrington had begun to look decidedly uncomfortable, and he edged away from the quarrelling sisters. “Perhaps I should take my leave,” he murmured–though both women ignored him.

“You are a child, Evelyn,” Octavia snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously. “You are a mere child, playing at being grown up. You know nothing of adult matters, so you ought to keep your nose out of my business!”

Evelyn recoiled as though she had been slapped. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. “I may be younger than you, Octavia,” she retorted hotly, “but I know right from wrong, and what you are doing … it is shameful. How could you betray someone like this? Someone like Lord Crestmoor!”

For a moment, something like guilt flickered across Octavia’s face. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by a cold mask of indifference. “Go to bed, Evelyn,” she said, her voice icy. “And if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will make you regret it.”

Hurt and anger warred within Evelyn’s chest as she stared at her sister. This was not the Octavia she knew and loved. This was a stranger, cold and cruel.

Without another word, Evelyn turned on her heel and fled back to the house. She ran blindly, tears blurring her vision, until she reached the sanctuary of her bedchamber. Collapsing onto her bed, she finally allowed the sobs to overtake her.

As she lay there, her mind raced with the implications of what she had witnessed. How could Octavia do this to Nathaniel? To their family? If this were to become known, the scandal would be devastating.

Yet even as these thoughts swirled through her mind, Evelyn knew she could never betray her sister’s confidence. For all Octavia’s faults, for all the hurt and anger Evelyn felt at this moment, she was still her sister.

As the tears gradually subsided, Evelyn found herself facing a harsh reality. The carefree days of her youth were coming to an end. The world seemed to be a far more complicated place than she had ever imagined.
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Chapter Two

“You look like a man besotted, Nathaniel,” came the amused voice of Lord Marcus Dashwood, the Baron of Stone, from the opposite seat of the carriage as they left the bustling streets of London. Nathaniel Hartley leaned back against the plush seat, and his contended grin widened. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you quite so … joyful,” Marcus continued.

Nathaniel chuckled as he faced his longtime friend. “Can you blame me, Marcus? In just a few days, I shall be married to the most beautiful woman in all of England.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eye. “My, my.” He let out with a laugh. “You truly are far gone, are you not? The most beautiful woman in all of England, you say?”

Despite his friend’s teasing, Nathaniel was unperturbed, and he merely let out a laugh. “You will understand when you meet her,” he ascertained. “Lady Octavia is … well, she is unlike anyone I have ever known.”

Marcus laughed softly. “Is it like the great love of Paris and Helen that we read about?” he teased, and Nathaniel shook his head with a laugh.

“This is real life, my friend,” he insisted. “And I do believe that while there will not be songs written about us … I could not dream of a better love.”

The carriage jostled as it hit a rut in the road, momentarily jolting Nathaniel from his reverie. He glanced out the window at the passing countryside, and a smile appeared on his face. Every bump, every mile brought him closer to his bride-to-be. Soon, he’d be a married man.

“You know,” Marcus spoke suddenly, interrupting his thoughts, “I can hardly believe you will be married soon.”

“Nor can I,” Nathaniel admitted with a grin. “But here we are.”

Marcus laughed softly. “I can vividly remember the night you met. The Carmichaels’ ball, was it not?”

Nathaniel nodded in agreement. “Indeed. And the moment I saw her, I knew she was something quite special.”

Marcus flashed him a teasing grin. “I could tell.” He laughed. “You were barely able to string two words together when you asked her to dance.”

Nathaniel chuckled at this, and his cheeks grew hot at once. “Well, of course,” he retorted. “She is breathtaking. You cannot possibly blame me. And now … now we are about to embark on the greatest adventure of all: a life together. One that is … fulfilling for us both.”

Though he spoke rather confidently, it was evident that Marcus had noticed the second of hesitation in his voice.

“Nathaniel,” he spoke now, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “Forgive me if I seem … less than supportive, but I must ask. What exactly do you have in common?”

Nathaniel shifted uncomfortably at this. “Well, we both … enjoy … social gatherings. And she does have quite the keen eye for fashion and decor, which will be invaluable to managing Leyton Place, and …” he trailed off suddenly, struck by how utterly shallow it all sounded. “We are still getting to know each other,” he explained quickly. “There is plenty of time for shared interests to develop.”

Marcus merely lifted a brow, and Nathaniel felt a desperate need to fill the silence.

“It is a good match, Marcus,” he insisted. “Octavia comes from a respectable family, and she is beautiful and charming … everything a man could want in a wife. And I am fond of her; truly, I am. The rest … will come with time. I am certain of it.”

Despite the certainty of his words, a thin frown settled between Nathaniel’s brows as they continued the journey. He tried with all his might to imagine being married to Octavia; he had to admit that he could not quite imagine her in any domestic capacity. Still–they were to be married soon. He had little doubt that it could get better than this.

Marcus merely nodded and glanced out the window. As the carriage rolled towards Hampshire, Nathaniel found his mind drifting back to that fateful night in London over a year ago. He could still picture Octavia with perfect clarity – her golden hair gleaming in the candlelight, her blue eyes sparkling with wit and charm as she laughed at some clever remark.

“I do wish Grandmother and Daisy could have made the journey,” Nathaniel mused, a slight frown creasing his brow. “It hardly seems right, getting married without them there.”

Marcus reached out, patting his friend’s knee sympathetically. “I know, old chap. But your grandmother’s health must come first. And Daisy couldn’t very well leave her alone, could she?”

Nathaniel nodded in agreement. Of course, Marcus was right. His grandmother’s recent bout of illness had been a source of great concern for the family. Though she had insisted she was well enough to travel, Nathaniel had put his foot down. The journey from Derbyshire to Hampshire was simply too taxing for a woman of her advanced years.

“At least they will be there to welcome us home,” Nathaniel said, brightening at the thought. “I cannot wait to show Octavia Leyton Place. I think she will love it as much as I do.”

“I hope she will,” Marcus agreed. “We have had some good times there.”

Nathaniel nodded with a laugh. “We have indeed,” he agreed. “And I do hope there will be many children to carry on our mischief … sons and daughters!”

Marcus merely laughed as Nathaniel delved even deeper into a song and dance about what he expected of married life.

The carriage pulled up to Windermere Manor just as the sun was beginning to set. As Nathaniel alighted, smoothing down his travel-worn coat, he was greeted by the warm smiles of the Windermere family – all save one notable absence.

“Nathaniel, my dear boy!” Lord Theodore boomed, clasping him in a hearty embrace. “Welcome, welcome! We are so pleased you have arrived safely.”

“Thank you, sir,” Nathaniel replied, returning the older man’s embrace with genuine affection. Over the past year, he had come to regard the Windermeres as a second family. “I cannot express how grateful I am for your hospitality in hosting the wedding.”

Lady Eleanor stepped forward, her kind eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled. “Nonsense, dear. We wouldn’t have it any other way. Now, come inside. You must be exhausted from your journey.”

“Please, do meet my good friend, Lord Stone,” Nathaniel said as they entered, taking note of the flurry of activity around them. “And I do hope we have not caused too much trouble with all these preparations,” he continued, a note of concern evident in his voice.

“Not at all!” Eleanor assured him. “We are delighted to have something to celebrate. It has brought such life to the house.”

Before Nathaniel could think to respond, a blur of movement caught his eye. Suddenly, a whirlwind of green muslin and chestnut curls was before him, eyes bright with excitement.

“Nathaniel!” Evelyn cried, appearing as though she was barely restraining herself from throwing her arms around him in a most unladylike fashion. “Oh, I am so glad you are here! How was your journey? Is your grandmother feeling any better? And Daisy – does she send her love?”

Nathaniel couldn’t help smiling at the youngest Windermere’s enthusiasm. Evelyn was growing up–and he loathed to think that soon her excitement and vigour for life would leave her, and she would become one of the proper ladies of the ton. He took his time now to study the girl who would be his sister-in-law.

She had grown even more beautiful than the last time he had seen her, but he suppressed the thought quickly. Meditating on another woman’s beauty was improper–especially one related to his betrothed.

“She is quite a beauty,” he heard Marcus whisper, and a strange, unpleasant feeling that he could not quite place coursed through him at this comment. He shot Marcus a dissatisfied look before turning his attention to Evelyn.

“One question at a time, Evie,” he teased, reaching out to give her hand an affectionate squeeze. “The journey was pleasant, despite the length thereof–thanks in no small part to my dear friend, Marcus.”

He gestured to Marcus, who bowed politely. Evelyn, however, kept her gaze on him–her eyes wide and eagerly awaiting more news.

“Grandmother is on the mend, though still not quite up to such a long journey, hence her missing the wedding. And yes, Daisy sends her love–she is quite looking forward to meeting all of you when we return to Derbyshire.”

Evelyn’s eyes lit up at this. “Oh, I would love that,” she exclaimed. “I must admit, I quite feel like we already know each other from all you have told me.”

Nathaniel flashed her a gentle smile. “I am sure the two of you will be great friends,” he assured her, his eyes flitting around as they made their way to the drawing room.

“I hope Octavia is well,” he said, turning his head from one to the other in the room. Though he tried to keep the note of disappointment from his voice, he couldn’t quite do that.

Evelyn looked down in an attempt to avoid his eyes, and a frown settled between Nathaniel’s brows.

“Oh, Octavia … she had some errands to attend to in the village,” Eleanor explained with a carefully neutral tone. “But of course, she will be back for dinner–and I am certain she will be thrilled to see you.”

He could not do anything but nod, though Nathaniel could not deny that he had to force aside a small tendril of unease. Of course, he silently reasoned with himself, Octavia would have obligations to see to, with the wedding so near. It was unreasonable to expect her to sit idly waiting for his arrival.

Rather than focus on his dissatisfaction with his bride’s absence, Nathaniel turned his attention to his future sister-in-law, who was looking at him with wide-eyed wonder.

“Are you looking forward to being married?” Evelyn asked unblushingly, and Nathaniel nodded, though he did feel his own cheeks grow hot at the question.

“I believe I am, yes,” he muttered, and she sighed deeply.

“And are you certain Daisy will not mind sharing you? I would hate to think of her feeling left out once Octavia comes to live with you.”

Nathaniel’s expression softened at her concern, and he looked at her with a bit more attention, noticing for the first time the extraordinary hazel colour of her eyes.

“Daisy is overjoyed at the prospect of having sisters,” he assured her, and Evelyn’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Sisters?”

“Of course,” Nathaniel insisted with a soft laugh. “After all, you will be her sister too–and she is quite determined that you should come to visit as soon as possible. According to her, it is high time someone stood with her against my insufferable brotherly teasing.”

A surge of affection coursed through him when Evelyn’s face lit up at this. “Oh, that’ll be lovely,” she exclaimed, leaning forward. A lock of hair fell across her cheek, and sweet lavender rose from her.

Just then, the grandfather clock in the hall chimed six, and the opening of the front door caught everyone’s attention. A moment later, Octavia swept into the room, a vision in pale blue silk.

“Nathaniel!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening in apparent surprise. “I had no idea you’d arrived already.”

Nathaniel rose to his feet, and he flashed her a smile. She was beautiful indeed, he told himself. He was lucky to have a bride like her … and if she did not look overwhelmingly happy to see him, well, that was to be expected. It was a marriage–not a fairy tale. “My dear,” he murmured, taking her hand and gently kissing her knuckles. “You look radiant as ever.”

A becoming blush coloured Octavia’s cheeks at his words. “You flatter me, sir,” she replied, though her pleased smile belied her modest words. “I trust your journey was pleasant?”

“It was,” Nathaniel nodded with a smile. “Though it was made all the sweeter by knowing I would see you at its end.”

Nathaniel thought he saw Evelyn shift uncomfortably from the corner of his eye, but his attention was quickly drawn back to Octavia as she started speaking quickly.

“I do hope you will forgive the state of chaos you’ve found us in,” she said sweetly, gesturing vaguely at the flower-strewn surfaces around them. “There seems to be an endless list of details to attend to.”

“Not at all,” Nathaniel assured her. “I am only sorry I could not be here sooner to assist with the preparations. You must be exhausted from all the planning.”

Something flickered in Octavia’s eyes–a feeling he could not quite place–but it was gone before Nathaniel could be certain it had been there. “Oh, it has been no trouble at all,” she said lightly. “Mother and Evelyn have been absolute treasures, taking care of most of the arrangements.”

At this, Nathaniel glanced at Evelyn once more. She carefully avoided his eyes still, and a frown settled between his brows. How was it that she had spent more time preparing for the wedding than the bride-to-be? And this by Octavia’s own admission?

Still, despite his reluctant concern, Nathaniel found himself constantly drawn to Octavia, marvelling at her beauty and charm. As they moved to the dinner table, however, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was … off. She seemed distracted, her smiles not quite reaching her eyes as they usually did.

As the meal drew to a close, Octavia rose from her seat. “If you will all excuse me,” she said, keeping her voice light, “I have a bit of a headache coming on. I think I shall retire early this evening.”

Nathaniel stood as well, concern etching his features. “Is there anything I can do?”

Octavia shook her head, offering him a small smile. “No, no, I’m sure it’s nothing a good night’s rest won’t cure. Please, don’t let me spoil your evening.”

Before Nathaniel could protest further, Octavia had swept from the room, leaving a palpable tension in her wake. He sank back into his chair, a frown creasing his brow as he stared at the door through which she had disappeared.

“I … I am sure it is the stress of the wedding preparations,” Eleanor said quickly, though her voice sounded almost strangled. She reached out to pat Nathaniel’s hand comfortingly. “Octavia can be quite … delicate,” she explained further.

Nathaniel merely nodded and forced a smile. “Of course,” he agreed, though the knot of unease in his stomach refused to dissipate. “These things can be quite … overwhelming.”

Still, even as he left for his hired house, Nathaniel could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. He was certain that something was troubling Octavia–though every time he had raised this concern with the family, they were quick to dismiss it.

“Is it just me, or does Octavia not seem like a happy, blushing bride?” He turned his queries to his friend, who sat easily on a chaise in the parlour. A sliver of doubt crept into his mind, and he tried to shove it down. Still, the doubt would not let up. He couldn’t help feeling as though this was not what he truly believed love was meant to be. Still, he told himself, it was what it was–and as far as love went, he was rather lucky to have someone like Octavia, wasn’t he?

Unaware of his tumultuous thoughts, Marcus merely shook his head with a laugh. “You are imagining things, old chap,” he insisted. “Pre-wedding nerves, nothing more. I am certain by tomorrow, your dear Octavia will be her charming self.”

“I hope you are right,” he murmured in response, though he was speaking more to himself than his companion. Perhaps, he thought as he withdrew to his bedchamber, Octavia was overwhelmed by the magnitude of the changes ahead. After all, she would be leaving behind everything she knew to start a new life with him in Derbyshire. It was only natural for her to feel some trepidation.

He would speak to her privately the next day, he decided firmly. He would reassure her of his love, his commitment to her happiness. Whatever doubts or fears she might be harbouring, they would face them together.