An Improper Courtship

It was probably and Improper deal

Rosalie sat up gingerly, her hair cascading down her face, all her pins had been released whilst she had been unconscious. She tried to separate the curls and knots.

"The doctor said it wouldn't be clever for you to walk all those stairs to your bed chamber and suggested you stayed down 'ere for the night" Bessie's Yorkshire accent was coming out in chunks, something she did when tired.

Rosalie nodded; she knew she didn't have the energy to do much more than shift her body around the pillows and thick throw, let alone climb the stairs she had earlier flown down. She realized she had been put into her nightgown. Bessie fretted around her plumping her pillow, showing her the glass of water and fruit, bringing an extra blanket for warmth and putting a candle on the table sit beside the sofa.

"Is there anything else you'd be needin' before I go," Bessie asked unconsciously inclining towards the doors. Rosalie smiled gently feeling ashamed of herself, in all her 20 years of existence she had never had a personal maid. Whilst she lived in France they had had a personal housekeeper to do the cooking and cleaning but she still managed herself, occasionally she would cook and mend her clothes but in those aspects of life, Rosalie was useless, burning bread and sewing as many stitches as there were pricks on her finger. Rosalie decided not to bother the girl for food although her stomach groaned in protest.

"Goodnight Bessie and thank you," The girl bowed out and left Rosalie to herself. Her extremely awake bored self.

Blake sealed the letter to his brother and sat back in the chair. Sighing contentedly he looked around his old childhood room. It felt strange to be back where he grew up. Although the house was in his name, he was almost staying here as a ward, he was not in the master suite because his Aunt and Uncle had been here before him. He didn't mind it, the bed would have been too large and for someone who barely moved, the space would have made him feel the solitude of being a Bachelor.

For a pestering reason even after Blake had changed into his nightclothes, blew the candles and slipped into bed, sleep would not roll through. He tossed and flopped about in bed feeling the heat of the covers and the cold of the air of the room. Discomfort clouded his mind and irritated his skin. After a few minutes which felt hours, Blake decided a nice glass of bourbon with milk would settle his body for bed.

He silently descended and when he reached the ground floor, he caught the dim light coming out from the drawing-room.

Rosalie had eaten every last piece of fruit but her stomach still rumbled. She tried to get up to reach the bookcase, in a vain attempt to distract herself. Yet her weak disposition didn't aid her. Much too out of energy to grumble about her situation Rosalie leaned back and stared at the ceiling, there were no stars to count so that soon bored her and instead she started dancing with her hands and fingers. It was a pass time Rosalie had learned from her Maman, in the shadows delicate fingers could look like anything. Tell any story.

The door creaked slowly and Rosalie gingerly sat up. Blake's face peeked in showing a cheeky smile. "A swan?" He volunteered. Rosalie's brain blanked and Blake pointed at the ceiling.

"I'm so glad you are here," Rosalie started

"You are," Blake practically smirked with confidence,

"Yes, you can bring me food!"

"Oh, so I'm a servant now?"

"A servant in shining armour?" Rosalie offered to try and convince him, a thought crossed Blake's mind as he watched her long eyelashes flutter pleadingly. There would be very little he'd deny her.

"Then please await my return as I venture forth on this perilous journey," Blake darted out to the kitchen, he found some bread and cheese, placed onion conserve on the plate and some greens from the larder. He fixed himself his drink. When he returned, the look on Rosalie's face newly defined what beauty was, in the dim lighting, a glow emanated from her autumn features and her eyes sparkled with joy.

She attempted to arrange the cover around her the best she could but quickly dug into her plate, using her fingers as her Maman would sometimes eat since Blake had forgotten cutlery. In Europe, it was considered barbaric but her mother had assured her food tasted better when you licked your fingers and that Europeans were the barbaric ones preventing people from eating as was natural. Why else had God given us fingers? Blake hadn't even realised he was staring at the sensual display of Rosalie devouring her food.

He cleared his throat, "I was finding it hard to sleep and happened to see the light, I thought we could help each other out."

Rosalie licked her lips, "I could have just been about to sleep,"

"Were you?"

Rosalie bit her lip, gestured to her plate, "No, I was too hungry,"

"I believe gratitude is in order,"

Rosalie flicked a crumb in his direction, "Merci," she mocked, shaking her head of wonderful locks. Blake started leaning closer, smirking at her constant display of strange but endearing behaviour.

"We haven't had many chances to talk."

"Well in between drowning, falling off bannisters and fainting, I think we've done a lot, perhaps too much for our own good." Blake couldn't help himself from looking at the way her slender fingertips fit around the roundness of her lips.

"Come Now, Miss Dupont it seems you are remembering something that hasn't occurred." His smile was back and Rosalie lowered her gaze.

"Where did you travel from?" She asked, an attempt to divert the conversation.

"Greece a well needed rest after 7 years of University, which although was done by choice can quite literally kill a man."

Rosalie shrugged, "You have the access and opportunity to higher education count yourself lucky, you are not instead sticking flowers in a hat and starting a painting project"

"I suppose I should agree or your eyes tell me I won't leave alive."

Rosalie pursed her lips, to block a smile "Oh! Mr Franco do you think me so stupid to kill you in a room where only I would stand suspect."

"Who knows maybe the bookcase could stand trial as well,"

Rosalie snorted and laughed, placing her empty plate on the table sit, "A talking bookcase now that would be a perfect children's story."

"Looks like I have found my calling" Blake smiled, stalking to the bookcase, taking a book and covering his mouth with it.

"Well isn't it a splendid night, a terrific night to be killing innocent insomniacs" A mocking voice declared,

"It does talk! Well, no one is going to believe me and I'll be placed in an asylum." Rosalie exclaimed, the drama dripping off every word. 

"No longer a children's story then, my future has just taken a whole different course" Blake concluded.

Rosalie smiled softly, a dreamy look in her eyes. Blake suddenly felt the room stiffen, the desire to kiss her was one that seemed to constantly lurk but here in the dimly lit intimacy of the night, he imagined much more. He turned back, straightening his back and dispelled his desire as much as he could. He placed the book back. The bourbon he had drunk in the kitchen before coming in was stoking a fire of desire.

"What are your future plans then," Rosalie asked, it wasn't something one would ask on their third encounter. She supposed they had passed the boundaries of propriety, but there was something more like she wanted to know everything about him. Blake sighed, it was a sound she hadn't heard from him yet.

"Travel, Settle down, marry and start a family."

"You make it sound like a chore," she observed.

"Oh no, I intend to find the perfect woman but I don't know how I would reconcile that stability with my desire to live abroad."

"Oh,"

"Is that really all you have to say, What are you really thinking?" he hadn't known her more than a day but he knew she often had more to say.

"You are a privileged man, with the world at your feet but you still feel burdened," Rosalie dared to let this slip. She didn't blame him for what he naturally inherited as a man and also as a higher class citizen but it was still glaring that sometimes they could not see past their privileged nose and vie en rose.

"I guess so," Blake said shifting his weight uncomfortably, for once Rosalie saw that he wasn't comfortable, his body which had always seemed supple and at ease despite its sturdy frame was tense.

"Well, I suppose the same will go for me since I need to marry too before I become a nuisance to this family and become a... a what do you call them here?" Rosalie stopped. She had again shifted the conversation, this time for his sake.

"What do you mean?"

"Those women past the marriage years,"

"A spinster?" Blake said, raising an eyebrow "You can't be that old."

"Are you suggesting I tell you my age?" Rosalie gasped a playful smile touching her lips. She didn't care, she put her hands up to show 10 twice.

Blake laughed, she did the strangest things. "Maybe, I can be of assistance," It was an excuse to spend more time with her.

"Assist me?" Rosalie c****d her head. She didn't understand where this was leading. He wasn't offering marriage, a dread almost filled her.

"Catch a husband," he said simply. Rosalie raised her eyebrows and ran her tongue over her teeth.

"How would you do that?" she replied, hiding the turmoil of emotion that had just swept up when she thought of being married. She was not ready to let a man in her life, let alone for a lifetime with marriage.

"Many ways, I can guide you well," He seemed much closer than before and his ocean green eyes were dancing in the candlelight. She supposed he could tell her who to stay clear of. He could be an ally in this new world she was entering. Although, right now with the way he was smouldering her with a feeling she couldn't quite place she was sure she should stay clear of him.

"Should I offer you the same?" Rosalie struggled to keep the raspiness of her voice steady,

"Catch a Husband?" Blake smirked and Rosalie caught on to his joke, it was scandalous, but in the dark of the night, in her nightgown, with Blake's heat emanating near her calves and feet, their whole relationship was a scandal.

"Catch a wife,"

"Well, they say the French are experts on Love, so I would count myself lucky." Blake countered, his eyes always seemed to be steadily taking her in. With any other man it might have been intimidating or intrusive but with Blake, it felt like a constant reassuring presence.

"Love perhaps, Blake but marriage is entirely different," Rosalie bit her lip. They seemed to be entering murky territory here, however bright and tantalising it seemed.