Read Online In Your Arms Again by Kathryn Smith - Free Book Online

was to be expected. After all, he had been her dearest friend at one time. Nor was it because she was unable to stop playing scenes from the meeting over and over in her head. No, it was because she had to hide her joy at seeing him from Spinton. He knew nothing about her mother and her vocation. He did not know that she had once adored North Sheffield.
    And he never would know. She had promised her grandfather that she would do all she could to conceal her origins, even though she was legitimate by birth. Sometimes, it still angered her that she should be forced to live a lie when it was her grandfather’s own fault that she was raised where she was. If he hadn’t disowned his son for eloping with an actress, Octavia’s life might have been very different.
    She might not have known North. She might be one of those society women who simpered and flirted every time he came near, thinking him dangerous and fascinating, rather than knowing the truth.
    Then again, if she had grown up in the world she had been born into, she might already be married to Spinton and be happy with the match because she would have nothing to compare it to. Or she might be miserable, and be sizing up North Sheffield for a possible affair.
    Either way, it didn’t matter. Her life had been very different at one time than it was now, and sometimes she missed it. That made the guilt all the worse, for why would she miss the past and the little house near Drury Lane when she now had everything her heart could ever wish for?
    “—come in?”
    Jerked from her thoughts, Octavia met Spinton’s gaze witha mixture of annoyance and embarrassment. “Forgive me. What did you say?”
    His smile was kind, patient even. It should have made her feel even more guilty. Perhaps it did. Maybe that was why she had the sudden urge to slap it off his face. “I asked if you wanted me to come in?”
    Oh, were they home then?
    Beatrice would no doubt want him to come in. Beatrice always wanted him to come in.
    “No,” she replied, conscience-stricken for ruining not only Spinton’s hopes, but Beatrice’s as well. In fact, for one split second, she was tempted to tell him yes, come in, and then leave him and Beatrice to their own devices. Perhaps if she did that, the two of them would take the decision from her and elope to Gretna Green.
    As if there was such a decision. She already knew the answer. She was going to marry Spinton. The only question was in regard to when the happy event was to take place.
    Happy event indeed. Which of them would be the first to admit their misery? Right now Spinton professed a desire to marry her—a desire for her even, but what would happen when he came to know the real her? What would happen if he learned she had lied to him all these years? And he was bound to find out eventually; she couldn’t keep it a secret forever, not when they were living under the same roof.
    He looked disappointed, but he didn’t press. “I will see you tomorrow then.”
    It was a statement, not a question, as though seeing her every day was the order of things, and his God-given right.
    She had half a mind to be ill tomorrow, and stay abed.
    “Good night,” she said, as the footman opened the door to the carriage. She didn’t wait for the customary kiss on the cheek, or press of her hand. She was too tired, too ill-tempered for either. This was a side of her Spinton saw butrarely. He did not like it, as he had said on several occasions, but it was something he would have to get used to. Sometimes she was cantankerous, nasty even. Sometimes she also took pleasure in it. What would her future husband think of that?
    Spinton was never nasty. In fact, Spinton’s emotions seemed to run the gamut of polite to convivial, and that was it. If he had a dark side, he was careful to never show it—something that Octavia’s cynical side distrusted most heartily.
    She stepped down into the dark night, followed by Beatrice, whose good-bye to Spinton was much