The Floral Series: Flowers in November

by TheCountessAndTheEnglishLord

Cora Levinson was rescued by Chester Lawrence Beaumont from a speeding motor, and they have never looked back. First as close friends, and eventually as lovers, though divided by class and age, they make the time they spend together precious, for fate will tear them apart with her departure to England four years after their initial meeting. Multi-chapter. Rating may vary.

1. Prologue

Do you remember the first time we met?

I shall never forget it. A strong-hearted, fiery beauty stepping out onto the sidewalk. The rain lashing down, too quick for the clumsy fingered Levinson's. Your gloved fingers slipped on the hook of the umbrella, and you stepped too soon from the pavement, a carriage nearly skimming your toes.

Then I took your elbow gently, pulling you away from the intimidating traffic. That is when you caught my eye, smiled that delicious smile, and thanked me profusely. I was a man enraptured.

I took you into the cafe, and I read you Keats whilst you poured hot, sweet tea that soothed our throats that ached from our passionate conversation.

'Come hither all sweet maidens soberly –'

'Why soberly?'

'Perhaps their vision has been impaired by their inebriation and he wishes them to come to him without colliding with any unsuspecting furniture.'

'You are silly.'

I smiled and you poured another cup of tea, which I took gratefully, adding a dash of whisky, away from the curious shopkeeper's eyes. You poured yourself one, sipping it delicately.

'Anyway, what brings such a fair young maiden as yourself to Cincinnati?'

'I live here.'

'Oh! I did not have you pinned down for a flighty, American heiress, waiting to pounce on some unforgiving Englishman whose pocket book is by no means full.'

'I take it you are an Englishman then.'

'I am indeed. An Eton prig to boot.'

'Oh!'

I shared a look with you, a smile spreading over my lips. 'I'm twenty four.'

You flopped back against the chair, amazed and vaguely horrified at the impossibilities of the situation, and its extreme consequences. What would your mother say when she found out?

'I went to Eton at the age of twelve and I left when I was nineteen. I then departed to America, the country of the beautiful maidens – 'you blushed at this '- and I made my fortune on the stock market.'

'You sound very illustrious and gypsy bred.'

'I am indeed. 'They refused to allow me into England with the name Chester!'

'You're joking.'

'No not at all. I tipped off the guard at the port, and told him my name was Lawrence Bathurst, because I thought it sounded posh and snooty – everything I'm not.'

'Gosh!' You sat back again, winded by the excitement of sitting opposite a twenty four year old man who was so happy in your company.

And I was. Oh, Cora, I was.