An Improper Courtship

An Improper Game

Rosalie went down for dinner, her two half-sisters not present. Dinner was mainly dominated by the chatter of the men and Kate showing a stern maternal instinct that Rosalie hadn't witnessed with her daughters. Rosalie didn't have much to add to the conversation, she'd only been part of the family for less than a fortnight.

Rosalie couldn't help but laugh at James' story of an encounter with an elderly lady in Florence who had not let go of him, convincing him that she couldn't walk without support despite her being alone when she'd met him. Blake was mindful not to stare too long at Rosalie, her eyes lit up with laughter, the candlelight glimmering around her form. He could have sworn there was an outline of gold around her. He watched her throw her head back, her eyes watering in joy. He pulled his eyes away, to turn to his brother who was practically off his chair imitating the old lady, making a ridiculous face. Dinner ended and the family moved to the living room for a game of cards. James' idea of course. Kate whispered to Rosalie that she should make the most of it as it wasn't a respectable pass time for unmarried women and it wouldn't be allowed in London until she married. Sir Michael settled for one game besides his daughter, whispering helpful directions in French. 

Lady Kate indulged her nephews a few rounds before she yawned and departed.

" And then, there were three," James announced,

"Yet, I still think you might lose," Rosalie said,

 James grinned, "Would you rather Blake win, instead?"

Rosalie rolled her eyes, "I'm I excluded from winning because of my gender?"

Blake focused his eyes on Rosalie's upturned lips, involuntarily licking his own. James caught the sight and laughed,

"Maybe you'll win because of your gender and your...attributes" he joked, moving his hands in a circle to outline her.

"James, shut up please and let us play."

 Blake turned his head to Rosalie, 

"He likes to get into people's head since he has no skill."

James laughed again, slapping the table. "It seems like it's two against one."

Rosalie raised an eyebrow and distributed the cards for their game of Blackjack. Her fingers brushed against Blake's as he picked up his cards. A warm teasing tingle spread across both their hands. The game was intense, well as intense as possible with James' random exclamations,

"Well I say, this King definitely looks like Blake," he cried,

"Pay no notice to him," Blake grumbled, picking up 5 cards because of the BlackJack.

"He seems to know what he's doing," Rosalie replied, putting a pair down.

"HE is on his last card," James smiled cockily, putting down the card, Blake checked that there had been no cheat.

"Do you have anything to bring him back?" Blake leaned towards Rosalie, he noticed her pupils dilate. 

Rosalie coughed lightly under his deep gaze,"Nope, nothing."

Despite having picked up 5 extra cards, Blake also had nothing."Don't listen to him, he has no skill." James mimicked. Rosalie raised her eyebrows and looked at Blake, shaking her head, Blake shrugged his shoulders.

"I guess it's just me and you, then," Blake said, his voice causing a single butterfly to awaken and flit downwards in Rosalie's stomach. James pulled back, as much as he wanted to stay and cause some damage to Blake's ego and embarrass him, he quite liked his body intact and he knew Blake would find a suitable payback.

"I think it's time for me to retire," he faked a yawn, moving the chair back noisily, 

"You better beat him gently cousin, he's a sore loser and might need consolation."

Rosalie's imagination caused a buzz of warmth across her body with what came to mind.

"Shut up," Blake grumbled."Goodnight lads," James winked at Rosalie and she shook her head laughing silently.

"He's quite something."

"That would be an understatement,"The room was silent with only the fire crackling. 

Rosalie looked up at Blake, "Hmm, You seem to have a lot of cards in your hands," She mused.

"My hands are quite big, they can manage." Blake countered, placing 2 aces and changing the suit. Rosalie picked up a card and smiled. Blake placed a Queen of hearts and covered her with a King of Clubs. It was his go again and he placed another two cards.

"Clever," Rosalie placed a Joker and her last card on top. She showed her empty hands and wriggled her long fingers. Blake looked down at his cards, he had nothing to bring her back.

"Anything to tempt me back into the game?" she almost purred. Blake looked up and c****d his head.

" Well done," he said, admitting defeat by dropping all his cards. Rosalie's mind went back to the 'consolation comment'. She restrained herself.

"One could argue it's mainly luck," Blake justified,

"If that notion helps you sleep better at night, Blake." The smile she gave Blake sent his mind reeling in a mischievous direction. The fire continued its crackling.  

"It's odd that we are in the midst of summer yet we still need a fire," Rosalie mused,

"England, she doesn't really follow the rules of nature, per se," Blake leaned back, to take a look at the fire, Rosalie was staring at. 

"London is warmer though," Rosalie's eyes flashed back to look at Blake as he continued, "must be the stifling population,"

"Yes, Paris in the summer is a greenhouse," Rosalie fingered the table cover, her hands fidgety from the laid backness of their late conversation.

 "Are you looking forward to visiting London?" Blake asked, Rosalie, smiled knowingly,

 "Of course," she started "but perhaps not encountering its people," Blake's azure gaze dimmed by the firelight seemed to be jumping sensually as he watched her speak. Rosalie looked away to focus on her words and not the several butterflies that had decided to all stir in a mad delirium within her stomach.

"I grew up reading English, my father sent gossip papers and even let me read the newspapers days late, I feel as though I know the English, which is presumptuous I know,"

"It explains your command of English, despite only arriving," Blake complimented, he was entranced by the intonation in her voice, not so much an accent but an emphasis on different syllables. 

"My father hired a good governess and always ensured I spoke both English and French," It felt strange to admit so much, " but in all honesty, there is something that unnerves me with the way the English hide behind their words and sarcasm,"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean no offence, it's just that the French say it how it is, they'll show you the knife and then stab you whereas the English will have you dozing off before you realise it was to stab you in the back," Rosalie was expressing a societal judgement she'd made from years of encounters of Englishmen and Frenchmen.

"I thought I was the one with the good imagination," Blake started, "Don't let any Englishman hear you say that,"

"I apologise, I didn't mean to attack you, My father is English, it was just an exaggeration of my point,"

"No offence was taken, Rosalie, always feel free to express your opinions with me," Blake replied and the words felt like a promise to Rosalie, "so apart from the cunning of the English, anything else you are dreading."

Rosalie pursed her lips, trying to analyse if Blake had taken offence,

"I don't mean every single Frenchman and Englishman, just a sort of an accepted societal upbringing that perhaps pushes individuals to act in a certain way,"

"An astute analysis, Rosalie, one that hadn't crossed my mind but highlights a truth when I think of my time abroad. I was always experiencing what one would call culture shocks but what was  my Englishness coming into question." 

The two murmured on in the dimness of the room about different European cultures and their ways of communicating when the conversation entered a different territory.

"but in my opinion, the wealthy are the same everywhere,"

"Are you not part of 'the wealthy' Rosalie?" Blake questioned, watching the flutter of her long eyelashes. Rosalie swallowed uncomfortably, she couldn't explain the truth to him, her upbringing, her father, however much she had integrated truth in their conversation.

"That is a story for another day"

"You intrigue me, Rosalie DuPont," Blake hushed. Rosalie knew it would be unwise to stay any longer, she abruptly stood and Blake followed suit.

"I think it will be wiser for me to leave before you decide to indulge your intrigue," the candour brought a smile to Blake's face.

"Perhaps so or perhaps I enjoy the comfort of the intrigue too much," Blake's eyes followed Rosalie as she gingerly moved around the table,

"Bonnuit Monsieur Franco," Rosalie nodded,

"Should I escort you to your room?" Blake asked he meant nothing by it, but to watch her react was delicious. She laughed, a delicious light-hearted ringing, different from the depth of their previous conversation. She straightened up, tilting her head and winked, "You wouldn't be able to escort yourself out,"

The reaction was plenty satisfying. Rosalie reluctantly pulled herself out of the room, the coolness of the corridor calming the butterflies and the heartbeat she felt pulsating in her neck. It would be another sleepless night.