The butler gave an amused snort, a bit out of character, but he really could not help himself. “The earl is working on his books and told me he does not wish to be disturbed until after lunch. Lady Alaina is in the front parlor, if you would like to see her.”
And, as if Arthur could conjure Lady Alaina by speaking her name, she appeared at the door of the parlor, just past the foot of the stairs. “Hello Christopher. Should I feel miffed that you came to see my father and not me?”
Christopher met Alaina’s stare and was surprised to find it reflected the same worries he felt, even if she had tried to infuse a teasing tone into her statement. Alaina looked just as he had remembered in his dreams. Her hair was swept up in a simple loose collection of perfect curls on the crown of her head, tendrils escaping around her temples, making her look more like a nymph, especially with the light from the parlor at her back. She was dressed in a simple day dress, cream colored with green brocade accents on the shoulders, wrists, and around the waist. Christopher thought she would look perfectly at home in a spring garden, and with only a few weeks to warmer weather, he smiled, able to conjure up such a vision. With the most fervent hope that he had not been silent too long, Christopher walked toward Alaina.
“My dear Alaina, I had hoped to see you just the same, but thought it might be prudent if I talked to your father first.”
Alaina furrowed her brow in confusion, and then a thought entered her mind, making her smile, partly in joy, and partly in chagrin for being so dense; at least she hoped he meant to discuss the subject of marriage with her father.
Alaina backed into the parlor to allow Christopher to enter. As Christopher passed Alaina to enter the room, her scent, a mix of soap and roses, washed over him, causing a familiar clenching in his belly as he relived their passionate kiss from the previous evening. A quick marriage was maybe best; his friend certainly had not been wrong about that.
Arthur poked his head into the parlor, keeping his amused stare as muted as possible. “I will let your father know that the marquess has arrived, although he did say not to disturb him until after lunch.”
At this statement the butler closed the door most of the way, leaving only a sliver open to the hallway: a way to keep within the bounds of propriety while giving the couple some privacy.
Christopher looked at Alaina in surprise. “Are you sure that leaving the door like that will not make your parents angry?”
Alaina shook her head and came to stand squarely in front of Christopher, who stood in front of the fireplace. The placement of a pair of chairs close to the fire meant Alaina had to stand close to Christopher to look at him, or at least his chest. Christopher looked down at her, her head upturned, and seemed ensnared by the deep brown eyes that looked warm and inviting in the light.
Christopher, feeling his attention driving to thoughts of more fun exploits than a conversation about his embarrassing display, cleared his throat and tried to start. “I had hoped… I would like …”
Christopher was unable to muster the right words and averted his gaze, but Alaina was undeterred. “What do you want, Christopher?” she said in almost a whisper.
As Christopher met her gaze, all he could think of was the vision that filled his heart. “You, my love. Ever since you flayed me at the refreshment table.”
Each of them stood there, entranced by the other, Alaina amazed at what she felt and could see in the depths of Christopher’s steel-blue eyes. Without much thought to the surroundings, Christopher took one step toward Alaina, closing the remaining distance between them. Alaina could feel Christopher’s breath at her temple, and he could feel the heat of her body. He ached to gather her in his arms.
With Christopher’s height, Alaina had to crane her neck to meet his eyes, ever-changing like the sea. Her mind was a tumble of thoughts, the first being the feeling of the kiss they shared last night. Alaina could feel her heart in her ears; a warm feeling washed over her. Christopher leaned in and Alaina’s heart leapt as their lips connected in a soft touch, Christopher just brushing his lips on hers. Alaina’s hands moved up to his neck without thought, causing her to lean into his body. Only one statement escaped her lips, “Me, huh?”
No verbal response came from Christopher, as his response to her question was to crush her to him, his lips turning to allow a deeper connection, his tongue tracing her lips. The couple did not hear the faint approach outside the door, but snapped apart as the door hit the wall and reverberated, opened rather forcefully by Alaina’s father, Edward. The butler stood just behind with a look of chagrin, almost apologetic.
Edward considered the two young people, obviously having just disengaged from a very improper kiss, and tried to keep his mirth hidden. They would certainly be married, but he knew it was expected to have some self-righteous anger. “So, I hear you needed a word with me, marquess? It seems I may be too late in my ability to object.”
And with that, Edward strode into the room and closed the door, Alaina and Christopher giving each other sheepish smiles.
Chapter 18
After walking in on Christopher and Alaina in what could be assumed was not the first passionate embrace of their courtship, Edward had discussed the terms of the engagement and eventual marriage with Christopher rather quickly. The younger man had no real demands; love certainly did that to a person. It was Edward who had one demand: the length of the courtship would be long enough to allow for a proper wedding, no exceptions. And, in an attempt to avoid conflict with his wife, Edward convinced Christopher to hold off on any formal proposal to Alaina until Charlotte and Evelina returned from the shops, which happened luckily right after the contract had been signed.
The midday celebration over the impending nuptials spilled into the afternoon tea and then into the evening meal. By the end, Alaina and Christopher were elated, blissful, and exhausted, with no time throughout the day to talk or have any moments alone, most likely by the earl’s design.
Against his better judgement, and at the coaxing of his wife, Edward allowed Christopher and Alaina to occupy the front parlor at the end of the evening to say their goodbyes. This time the door remained completely open to the hallway, leaving no room for privacy.
The front parlor was warm from the fire that had burned all day, just recently stoked by Arthur, but the light from the afternoon was gone. Candles had been lit and a lantern sat on the table between the two chairs situated directly in front of the fireplace. The glow of candles gave the feel of a bedchamber, or at least some setting more intimate than a formal front parlor used for receiving guests. Once they were left in their own company, Alaina and Christopher automatically came together closely in front of the fire. No outward passion could be observed, it was only boiling under the surface, but an element of tenderness and hope for the future had taken its place.
“I fear they do not trust us,” Alaina whispered, motioning to the door.
“Well, if it justifies their actions, I have to keep reminding myself the door is open, else I will continue what I started this afternoon,” Christopher half-growled, only partly in jest.
Alaina looked away slightly. Christopher could not see her fully in the dim light, but he felt her embarrassment. Trying to keep the tenderness of the moment, Christopher gathered Alaina’s hands in one of his own, putting the knuckle of his free hand under her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye once again.
“I feel so lucky to be here at this very moment, but I also owe you an apology,” Christopher probed Alaina’s eyes and sighed, finally able to broach the real reason for his hurried visit and proposal.
Alaina drew her brows together in confusion. “Apology? Doubts already?”
“No,” came Christopher’s quick answer, a little more brusquely than he intended. Frustrated with himself, he dropped Alaina’s hand, turning to face the fire and raking a hand through his tousled hair, almost blonde in the firelight.
It seemed the best he could muster was a muted apology said to the flames. “I should never have said the words I said in the state I was in last night, and for that I am sorry.”
