“Oh,” was Alaina’s response, such a small word that seemed to fill the space between them.
Realizing his mistake, Christopher turned back to face Alaina. She was quick to put up her hand to stop further explanation. They were engaged to be married; if Christopher did not love her now, it mattered little, as long as there was hope for the future.
“I do not think you understand my meaning, please let me get this out,” came Christopher’s plea. Seeing the glitter of tears in Alaina’s eyes spurred him. “You see, words of love should be exchanged in times of joy, untainted by drink, or company. For goodness’ sake, I could not even make them private. What I mean is that they should be special, given in an intimate moment, like now.”
At the end of his explanation, Alaina’s lips trembled ever so slightly up in a smile.
“I love you, my dear Alaina. I fear I have loved you since we first met. I had been denying it ever since that moment. And I feared not saying the words for one moment longer would be my downfall. It was unfortunate that I needed the confidence of drink to express my true feelings. Will you forgive me?”
Alaina giggled. “There is nothing to forgive, I am just glad to hear the words again. I love you too, my darling Christopher.”
And with their declarations in the air, their lips met in a tender kiss, heat seeping from their bellies and spreading through their bodies. After only a moment, Christopher pulled away, placing his hands on Alaina’s arms in order to set her a safe distance from him. Christopher could see Alaina’s eyes were glazed over with passion even in the candlelight, and had to force himself to maintain decorum.
“It is getting late. I should be going,” Christopher said, giving a quick bow as a way of forcing courtly manners on the moment and on himself.
“You make me yearn for our wedding. I get the feeling kisses like these can lead to good places,” Alaina purred, aware that her words could lead to added embarrassment with her parents; but what she felt at his touch made her yearn for something more.
Christopher groaned, and pulled Alaina close in his embrace once more. She could feel a hardness on her belly and knew he felt the same.
“You, little minx, have much to learn, but know that I yearn for the wedding night as much if not more than you.”
Christopher landed a passionate and hard kiss on Alaina’s lips, and although it was brief, it communicated that his statement was in fact true.
Coming up a little breathless, Alaina was barely able to get out the words, “It is getting late.”
“That it is,” Christopher added, and with one last kiss, this time on the tip of her nose, he left by way of the parlor door and then quickly out of the front door of the townhome, thankful for the cool night air.
Alaina could still feel all the places Christopher had touched with his hands, his lips, his body, and took a breath to steady herself. The wedding certainly could not come soon enough, even if she had no idea what was truly in store past the kissing.
News travelled fast in society, and even before the proper announcement, Alaina and Christopher had received a wide variety of congratulations, invitations to dinner, musicales, and other social engagements. It was always expected that Alaina and a chaperone of some sort would accompany the marquess, so whomever had proffered the invitation could learn about the couple, either to feed the gossip, or to gain favor.
The Rochester estate and title had long been held by gentlemen who preferred privacy over ambition, happy to maintain the success of the title without expanding it, at least through overtly political means. Alaina learned that until Christopher’s late father, who had taken to excessive drink at a young age, there had been no real scandal, or none at least that captured the attention of the ton for more than a few minutes. In fact, the Rochester line had been so boring that the family situation, or lack thereof, had never garnered much attention at all.
With a family that was so close, Alaina had been eager to learn about Christopher’s, and was sad that he had no close relatives to share in his life. Alaina found herself asking questions, largely that Christopher could not answer. Christopher did not remember much of his father before his mother’s death at all, as he had always been away at whatever Rochester estate that Christopher and his mother did not occupy. Christopher admitted to Alaina he had realized that the absence of his father was probably what kept his mother from being completely withdrawn. The few times the old marquess was in attendance, mostly holidays, Christopher recalled awkward and forced family dinners. After his mother passed, Christopher was often only in the company of tutors and servants. The occasional forced family dinners became more and more unbearable, as Christopher got older and became more aware both of his father’s drunken and belligerent behavior as well as its worsening impact on the late marquess’s health.
It was not until he went to Eton that Christopher made any friends his own age. Graham was his roommate by chance, and they became fast friends, even as Graham pulled Christopher into mischief.
Not even Charles, Christopher’s cousin, older by a few years, had seen fit to engage much with his younger family member while they both attended school, only extending basic courtesies, as required. When Christopher had been younger, it had seemed personal. After the passing of his father, Christopher learned of the bad blood between the late marquess and his uncle, Charles’s father, the second-born son, but had never learned the cause. Over the years, their relationship had not much improved, even without the presence of the previous marquess. It was only with the death of Charles’s father, and Charles’s own ascendence to his barony, that Christopher and Charles became friendly, still only seeing each other on occasion, but more due to circumstance than lack of desire to engage socially. Christopher had come to value his cousin’s company and humor, and accepted his invitation to a quiet dinner at the rented townhouse his cousin currently occupied. Alaina convinced her mother to join them for propriety, all of them leaving from the Norwich townhome together.
As they wound their way by carriage to Charles’s home in the city, Alaina tugged at her gloves. Charlotte, who was seated next to Alaina, seemed oblivious to her distress, but Christopher, who was sitting opposite, watched her on their short ride, unsure of how to ease Alaina’s trepidation.
“Alaina, my dear, it matters not to me how you and Charles get along. Besides, you seem to get on well with most people,” Christopher attempted to assure her.
Alaina, who had been absently biting her lip while she fidgeted, looked up to meet Christopher’s eyes, and he could see the plea in them. “I just want to get along with your family. Charles and I met ever so briefly at the Leicester Ball, and I cannot shake a feeling that he does not like me.”
“Nonsense. Charles has always been a bit odd. I am sure he was just struck by your beauty,” Christopher said, adding a jaunty smile to hopefully brighten the mood.
Alaina heaved a big sigh and glanced back down at her lap, not placated by Christopher’s assurances. Charlotte took this moment to reach over and squeeze her daughter’s hand.
“Alaina, Christopher is right. I will grant you that Charles seemed a bit odd, but I am sure it has nothing to do with you,” Charlotte said, giving Alaina and then Christopher a smile only a mother could dole out.
The carriage pulled up in front of a modest town house on a busier street than Alaina was used to. Christopher had mentioned his cousin was a baron, and had to rent accommodations when he came to town. That meant they were currently on the outskirts of where nobility respectably lived. The street was still overwhelmingly safe, and the houses lining the street were well kept, but smaller. Occasionally, one would see a stray dog wander the streets, or an overly drunk gentleman, maybe even a member of the lower-level nobility on a bench or curb, all of which Alaina was not used to seeing.
Christopher’s cousin was a baron, a title that had been in the Kendall family for several generations, either remaining with cousins or second-born sons. Christopher explained this meant that Charles was able to claim a decent income and investments. The money and property were not as extensive as the marquessate, but enough to rent the best townhouse on the street. As a baron, Charles had to keep his staff in the country to keep an eye on the surrounding property, including a farm and tenants, so he hired staff every London season he was in residence. As Alaina, Christopher, and Charlotte prepared to alight from the carriage, one of these newly hired servants opened the door.
“Good evening, ladies and gent. The baron had me come greet you at the coach instead of waiting by the door. No footman tonight,” came the gentleman’s greeting, ever so slightly less refined than the typical staff at the front of the house, but genial and warm.
“Good evening, we appreciate the help,” came Charlotte’s reply, taking the lead in leaving the carriage, as she accepted the hand offered in assistance and stepped down from the carriage.
