An Improper Courtship

Improper Connection

*Days went by, Rosalie avoided Blake as much as possible, answered questions at the dinner table when she was required to. She spent time reading in English, translating french texts to English for self-improvement, asking Honey about traditions and English history. Kate would often encourage her to join them in whatever craft they were doing but it always felt like a chore, no matter how kind they were to her. Blake often joined the ladies for tea, devouring the petits fours and scones, Rosalie would disappear with excuses of naps and feeling tired. It worked as the Jameson ladies seemed to believe Rosalie was off frail disposition. Her father often caught Rosalie, offering promenades or sessions to read French newspapers he had delivered but Rosalie would distantly excuse herself and avoid the pain in his gaze.

"Are you feeling rested?" Honey questioned her arm looping around hers,

"Oh yes, quite" Rosalie murmured, Honey's presence was always warm and Rosalie who had never had a sister felt it... deeply. It was almost a reminder of her lack of family, growing up. They wandered around the hallways as the bell for dinner had not rung and Honey explained the differences between this home and their London residence.

When everyone installed themselves for dinner, Blake had resolved he would speak to Rosalie alone tonight. The conversation at dinner was light and led by Honey who was buzzing with contagious excitement, it was not long before she couldn't keep it in anymore.

"Oh I had this wonderful idea, Papa"

Alyssa raised an eyebrow, "Well, do tell" her voice was so dry of emotion that Blake was forced to look up at her and see her untouched plate.

"Do you not like the pie?" Blake asked nonchalantly. Alyssa stared back at her cousin forcing a smile and a small mouthful. He saw her hesitate and then swallow. Her eyes piercing his in defiance. The tension was unseen as Honey continued,

"Well, of course, it's only if Mama and Papa agree..." she trailed on her eyes innocently pleading.

"We're listening," Her mother said,

"It's just I thought that perhaps before we returned to London, we could show Rosalie how a British country ball goes," her smile was so eager, her parents seemed to give in instantly.

"Who will prepare this?" Kate questioned, " I have no energy or will to oversee it."

"Oh, I will of course," Alyssa said, pushing her plate backwards.

" And I," Honey said furrowing her eyebrows at Alyssa, her expression seemed to be telling her to back off, in the kindest way possible

"Well, I see no issue with it, I'll leave it to you both, perhaps include Rosalie," their Father shared a tender glance at his distant daughter.

"I can help too," Blake offered, "How about a circus theme?" It was clearly an inside joke, for Honey and Alyssa broke out into a fit of laughter.

"You will help by staying well away from everything to do with the ball," Alyssa smiled softly, a rare picture. She could have been classically beautiful, Rosalie thought but there was something always dragging her features in, her cheeks sunken and her eyes almost protruding.

Dinner came to a close, and everyone left. Blake looked at Rosalie from across the room,

"Take a turn with me," he asked, extending his arm. Rosalie hesitated, she had done quite well staying polite and cordial, throwing a joke when fitting but otherwise avoiding any need for saving or longer conversations their first few days had been filled with. Something in the way he stood and the patience his eyes showed pulled Rosalie to walk around the table and place her gloved hand on his forearm. Blake's eyes trailed up her silken arm, shoulder, neck and finally her face. Rosalie felt the pinpointed warmth of his gaze.

"I don't presume to know you Rosalie, but I see something in your mood has shifted,"

Rosalie kept quiet, she hadn't expected him to come out with it so abruptly.

"I think I can say quite confidently, that we are well past awkwardness, I know we have not known each other for long but I would hope you could speak your mind with me," Her face turned serious, her pupils widening and the specks of green in her eyes darkening.

"It's nothing," she tried.

"The least you could do is not lie to me then," Blake answered in the same way she had. Sternly.

"I know, I'm sorry," she said meekly. Blake felt a pang of pain and shook his head, they were strolling leisurely around the dining room.

"Forget it, you don't owe me anything. But I urge you to not forget we are friends." He was sure his body craved contact to show he meant his words sincerely, but he didn't want to jeopardize the conversation.

"It would be hard to forget you." She tried to lighten the mood brushing her hand delicately over his and placing her hand into his. She was taking control, this was something she wanted, his touch, his concern. There was a silence when Blake took her hand into his, raised it and trailed a kiss on her palm. She shivered at the contact.

Blake spoke against her palm, "You ran off the other day, you were raging, I thought the auburn in your hair would catch on fire,". Rosalie tilted her head,

"What a strange imagination you have,"

"Well, I thought I was witnessing the metamorphosis of an angel into a fury,"

Rosalie couldn't help but smile, her eyes distant, she had been so focused on her internal rage she hadn't even thought how she appeared on the exterior.

"It's not that.." she tried "you just brought back something painful." She'd said too much and she hadn't meant to put the blame on him, the words had just fallen out that way. Her head urged her to keep quiet and not expose anymore.

"What do you me-?" Blake wasn't a fool but he was confused by the theories forming in his head. Blake closed his eyes picturing the scene before the outbreak. She had handed him the list, the one he had been mulling over the past few days and he had held on to her hand as a joke.

Had his hand been too tight? Had he hurt her? Had he forced contact?

Realisation dawned upon him. Blake searched her face. Rosalie tried to keep her emotions neutral. He dropped his hand from hers. I'm sorry felt silly to say and although she had just let him touch her, he felt a rage erupt from within, a feeling he rarely allowed to surface.

"Would you prefer it if I didn't touch you? " Blake started, it would be a strain on him but he would respect it for her sake. There was an ire behind the words, mixed with concern and warmth.

"I don't know how to answer that without stroking your male ego or offending it," Rosalie attempted light-heartedly, speaking with him felt natural and instinctual.

"Hmph," Blake had withdrawn slightly away, whipped up in anger. Rosalie faced Blake and placed her hand into his again, he hesitated before closing his grip gently. She smiled before placing her other hand over both of theirs, very reminiscent of their first meeting.

"Now don't go getting any ideas," she muttered airily, Blake although feeling a hint of sadness as he bore down on this beautiful woman, smiled and shook his head.

"I don't owe you this," Rosalie started, "It's more for me if anything, but you don't need to be afraid of touching me," Rosalie was attempting to bridge normality between them and Blake could feel the familiarity of her presence. They had stopped by the window and a few moments of silence passed.

"Since we are past the facades of proprietary, could I ask you a question,"

Rosalie raised her eyebrows in invitation, "I know we promised not to speak of a certain incident, but let us say hypothetically a woman meets a man in an interesting ... experience" the lightness in Blake's tone could only make Rosalie stifle a smile, "the woman survives something quite... hectic to say the least and although the man tried to be a saviour, arrives minutes late to the hecticness, he is still rewarded for his intentions." Rosalie hummed, she couldn't quite follow his build up yet. "The woman surprises him with a kiss that would point to some experience in the field,"

Rosalie was starting to see, of course, Blake would be confused, one moment she was willing and the next retreating.

"The man does not judge this woman, she has shown resilience and survival few men would share but I-he seeks to understand all of her,"

"I wish I could understand her too, initially any time a male would touch her, she would flinch, whether intentionally or not, then over the years, she rebelled trying to take control of what she knew was not her fault and shouldn't be a burden or shame. She always heeded her gut which was especially awake and sensitive around men, and she tested the waters, in perhaps destructive and unhealthy ways but she promised herself never to let control out of her grasp." Rosalie spoke in the third person, and it provided her with the perfect outlet and distance to explain her confusing behaviour. Blake's attention was on the crescent suspended in the night sky.

Rosalie barely whispered the next confession "I feel an overwhelming comfort with you, I felt it the moment we met and what happened was not because of you, it was because I never dealt with what happened, I always vacillate from one extreme reaction to another."

Blake would have fanned out pride if the moment had not been filled with so much vulnerability,

"It is a passage in my life that cannot be unwritten, nothing can be done about it, I must learn to deal with it and I have a  record of difficulty solving my issues" her whispering voice held the situation high in the air.

As much as Blake craved to envelop Rosalie in a hug, he put the idea to rest, instead, he took his thumb to her cheek, tracing up the svelte cheekbone, before stroking the curls that framed her face.

"I'll help you deal with it, however, you see fit,"

Rosalie tried to focus on her breathing because the light touch of calloused thumbs was causing a storm of desire, warmth and comfort within her.