Schemes vs. Seduction
Chapter Three: Hats, Horse, and the Beginning of Discord
Bleach; Ichihime AU Regency England
Word Count: 4960
Warning: none
Disclaimer: all characters herein are the property of Kubo Tite.
Fanart for this project, created by the talented Child of the Ashes (remove the spaces): http:/ child-of-the-ashes. deviantart. com/ art/ FLOL-Fanwork-Challenge-253302134
~o0o~
The streets were quiet in Knightsbridge this time of day. The wealthy, the pampered, the indolent were still abed after a late night round of parties, card playing, and other clandestine entertainments. The exact reasons Ichigo would rather be in bed himself. It was much too early to receive a summons to Rotterwood House by an imperious Rukia. His large curtained four-post bed called to him like a sweetly melodious siren, luring him back into soporific slumber.
Ichigo groaned with distaste. He was so tired he was beginning to sound like some rattle pated fool spouting off loving odes to his comfortable bed.
However, fool or not, Ichigo couldn't very well ignore Rukia. She would just send a burly footman or -even worse to his way of thinking- Renji to pry him out of bed in the most annoying manner possible. She'd done it before. The black-hearted harpy.
Lucifer's hooves clomped against the cobbles in sharply staccato pattern. His stallion, whose dangerous and potentially lethal temperament was as black as his coat, knew they weren't heading in the direction of the park and the bridle path where he could kick up his heels and stretch out. They'd already passed Hyde Park Corner some time ago and were moving deeper into Belgravia. Later, boy. Ichigo murmured and patted the thickly muscled neck even as Lucifer swung his head around to nip at his master's gloved hand. Bloody bastard. Thankfully, they were almost to their destination in the newly developed Belgrave Square.
Dismounting in the crescent shaped drive of No. 12 Rotterwood House behind a recently stopped black carriage, Ichigo tossed the reins of his cantankerous horse to a footman with pleasure. A quick flick of his wrist gestured for a second footman to step back after opening the unmarked carriage door. Holding out his hand, his greeting died on his lips as a small white gloved hand curled around his and he got his first good look at Orihime.
"What is that?"
Ichigo stared at her bonnet with a combination of exasperation and horror as she stepped out into the weak morning sunshine. It was surely too early in the day to be faced with something that monstrous looking. Once she reached solid ground, he idly poked it with a gloved finger to ensure there was nothing alive in there and scowled into a shiny pair of malevolent black eyes. "Is that a crow?"
Clapping her hands together, Orihime tilted her head back and beamed up at him. "He's wonderfully beady eyed, isn't he?" She lifted a hand to gently touch the side of her straw bonnet that somehow contained the aforementioned stuffed crow, a drunken sunflower that tilted and bobbed with each step, and a veritable profusion of netting before she strolled up the shallow steps into Rotterwood house. "I found a young woman from the hospital a position as a milliners' assistant. She used her first week's wages to make this as a small token of her thanks."
Following her trim figure –once again clad in pink under her lightweight spencer, he noticed with a frown- into the cool foyer, Ichigo surrendered his hat and coat to Byakuya's stiff-necked butler and muttered. "I'd be wondering if she really was all that thankful seeing as she put that harbinger of death on your hat." Watching her cheeks puff out in the beginnings of annoyance, his amused grin melted away as she lifting the monstrosity from her head to reveal another one of those infernal lace caps covering her braided hair and he decided to goad Orihime a bit more. "Maybe it's a curse instead?"
Forestalled from making a comment by Byakuya's butler gesturing them towards the stairs, Orihime graciously handed her maligned hat to a footman with a tiny smile before tilting her chin in the air and marched off, leaving Ichigo to follow in her wake.
"You're both finally here." Rukia cheered once they were announced and directed them into the tastefully decorated morning room with a regal wave of her hand. "I have fresh tea and biscuits."
"I think Ichigo is more in need of coffee." Orihime whispered conspiratorially as she passed, "He's cranky."
"I'm not cranky. However, I am wondering why I received a marginally polite worded order to be here at the ungodly hour of nine." Entering the room fast on her heels, Ichigo grumbled in his own defense. "I'll have you know I didn't get in until early this morning and would appreciate getting some sleep."
Orihime's mouth thinned as she turned away with a sniff. "See. He's cranky."
"I am n-" he came to a stop, blinking at the woman seated beside Rukia and his nerves twitched under his skin in warning. What was going on here? "Mother, what are you doing here?" Ichigo murmured as he crossed to her side and bent down to brush a kiss against her smooth cheek. He had the uncanny feeling as if he'd just entered a well-concealed trap.
Smiling at her first born, Masaki's brown eyes twinkled with barely masked glee. "I'm here to help too."
"With what?"
"With Orihime's plans to get married, of course."
His eyes widened. Is that why he was called here? To help? This was now getting out of hand. Ichigo was certain Orihime would have moved on to something else overnight, like purchasing a monkey or maybe building a hospital of her own. Anything but this confounded talk about marriage.
Rounding on his redheaded friend, he frowned at Orihime as she sat on the sofa opposite his mother and Rukia, serenely straightening her pink sprigged muslin skirts. "You're not still talking about this nonsense, are you?"
Orihime glanced up in surprise and blinked. "It …it's not nonsense."
"That's your opinion." He muttered from the side of his mouth, feeling strangely irritated at her continued stubbornness.
"Ichigo, as I explained yesterday, I'm not getting any younger. I can't afford to dillydally."
"You also said you weren't going to rush."
"And I'm not. However, I'm not going to dawdle either."
His lips twisted, biting back an acerbic comment about her already dawdling for better part of seven years. Why the tearing hurry now? Rukia poured them both a cup of tea while they were talking and practically ordered him to sit and drink it before it went cold. He didn't want to sit, he was restless, he wanted to pace. But when Orihime glanced up at him with a curious look and patted the open space beside her, Ichigo ignored his contrariness and folded the long tails of his brown wool coat under and sat.
He watched Orihime from the corner of his eye as she leaned forward with a look of utter concentration as she plucked two biscuits and a fruit pastry from the tray. She was so familiar to him; he probably knew her face better than his own. The line of her jaw, the soft brown of her eyes, the sweet curve of her mouth. Unexpected heat coiled in his stomach as he stared at her lips. Full and inviting, perfectly shaped for kis-
"Mm, berry tarts. How wonderful." Orihime sat back with a happy sigh.
Yes, wonderful. Here he was thinking about her luscious mouth and she was only thinking about food. His eyes flicked along her profile guiltily before dropping to stare unseeingly into his cup of unwanted tea. "What's so special about children anyway?" Ichigo muttered unthinkingly as his eyes lifted once more to Orihime's face. He didn't mean to speak his thoughts, but now that he did, he couldn't help but add. "Just get a dog; they're cheaper and less messy."
Slowly chewing a bite of pastry, Orihime placed the remaining piece on her plate before meeting his dark eyes. "That's not true. Besides which, I already have a dog."
"No you don't." He corrected her with a beleaguered sigh. "What you have is an exceedingly fat horse, one you spoil too much." Ichigo groused before stealing a butter biscuit from her unattended plate while she sipped her tea.
Orihime lowered her cup back to its saucer with a quiet clink. "Ōmaeda is not fat." she stated firmly, sounding thoroughly offended …although Ichigo wasn't certain if that was due to the insult to her horse or the theft of her food. Probably the latter. Food was of the utmost importance to her.
The corners of his mouth kicked up at the corners in amusement. "Yes, he is fat. Lazy too. You really should exercise him more." He gestured chidingly in her direction with his pilfered biscuit before popping the last in his mouth, smiling superiorly at Orihime's vexed expression.
Masaki watched the two redheads bicker back and forth with a tiny smile curling her lips. Forgotten, Rukia and herself could very well be on the other side of the room for all her son and Orihime cared. Not that that displeased her in the least. In fact, it only confirmed what she already knew. Glancing at Rukia, she tilted her head in their direction, curious if someone else would see what was so clear to her.
Blinking in surprise, Rukia followed the countess's gaze to the bickering pair. She watched Orihime and Ichigo for a moment, wondering what she was supposed to see. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she glanced back at Masaki and arched a questioning brow. The other woman merely smiled wider and let her eyes drift back to her only son and the woman seated closely beside him.
Still not understanding, Rukia's gaze slid back to her friends. This time she blocked out their words and focused instead on their actions. The casual touches. The easy familiarity. The gentle looks. And her lips parted on a silent gasp. They fought like an old married couple, teasing and affectionate, never crossing the line, always respectful of the other's feelings.
They …they were in love with each other and didn't even realize it.
Delicate china rattled against sterling silver as she fumbled with her cup, knocking it against a spoon as she placed it on the table. Ichigo and Orihime? Inconceivable.
"She'll make him an excellent wife." Masaki used the pretext of choosing another biscuit to lean near and murmured. "And he's the perfect man to sire all those children she wants."
Rukia nodded slowly in understanding and then -after letting it fully sink in- more rapidly in wholehearted agreement. It was a perfect match. Why didn't she see it before? She peeked through her lashes at the redheaded pair and wondered how to bring their marriage about, quickly. Although, knowing Ichigo as she did, the contrary man would instantly balk and turn argumentative if he caught wind of what her and his mother were planning …even if it was for his own good.
There was no choice then, time to use his protective instincts against him. "You just gave me the perfect idea, Ichigo."
His attention was pulled away from Orihime playfully nattering about his fixation on tight coats and flashy –in her opinion- watch fobs by Rukia's syrupy sweet comment. "What?" he snapped, instantly on his guard. His eyes darted from his friend to his mother and back again as they whispered between themselves.
"Starting tomorrow, Orihime should join you on your morning ride." Masaki stated while giving her son a gentle smile, one that barely masked the steel underneath.
His eyes flared. That was an order, wasn't it?
"Don't you see? It's ideal for our purposes." Rukia casually remarked while gesturing towards Orihime. "She can exercise Ōmaeda and at the same time converse with the many eligible men who also ride in the park each day. And you are the perfect escort to protect her from any unsavory attention."
Of course he would protect her. He always protected her. But Ichigo still had three good reasons why this was a bad idea. One, Orihime on horseback was an accident waiting to happen. Two, his normal exhilarating hell-for-leather morning ride would be turned into an aimless social ramble. And three, he didn't want anything to do with facilitating Orihime's nuptials.
However, when faced with three women saying it was a perfectly marvelous idea, and all three of those women were presently in the same room as him, watching him with varying degrees of expectation, menace, and excitement, there wasn't much Ichigo could do, but agree.
Therefore, with a feeling of impending doom churning in his stomach, he arrived at Orihime's the next day for their promised ride just as she was coming down the stairs. Her heeled boots clattered against the marble risers as she descended -thankfully in something other than the detested shade of pink.
A rich blue velvet riding habit encased her womanly curves, displaying them to perfection while at the same time allowing not even a tantalizing bit of skin to show. From the tips of her brown leather boots to the jaunty little hat perched at an angle on her copper curls, she looked every inch the perfect lady.
Giles stood patiently near the door, holding out Orihime's blue kid riding gloves and she smiled in thanks at her butler before carefully pulling on the delicate gloves. Giving her appearance a once over in the hall mirror, she turned back to Giles curiously. "Did you already distribute the lists I gave you?"
"Yes Milady. Mrs. Avery and Cook were delighted that you thought to include them." He calmly answered. Although truth be told, the housekeeper and cook were both equally distraught as well. As was he. It wasn't his place to tell his employer that she was acting illogical in this scheme of hers, however …
"About the list you gave me?"
Curious as to what the problem was, Orihime took the paper from his gloved hand and read off the short list. "Send a note to my solicitor to inquire about procuring a special license from the Archbishop of Canterbury. Arrange for a parson to be on call to officiate the ceremony. And request that my modiste call at his earliest convenience for my fittings." Three simple things. She tapped a finger against her chin, pursing her lips in thought. Maybe that was the problem, Giles wished for something more challenging than this.
"Ishida is coming here?"
Ichigo's bored drawl interrupted her train of thought. She looked up into her friend's narrowed eyes and smiled sheepishly, remembering too late the two men didn't get along. "Y-yes. Rukia and your mother advised me to rework a few of my gowns. And I would like to be married in a new dress." She nodded at Giles and returned his list before glancing over her shoulder at Ichigo, sending him a blinding smile. "It's only proper, after all."
It wouldn't do to slap a hand over his face, but that was exactly what Ichigo wanted to do. Orihime was worried about propriety? One would think that selecting a prospective husband and securing a proposal would come first, like any other normal person.
But –as always- Orihime tended to do things backwards. Her mind didn't work the same as everyone else. She tended to do and say whatever came to mind with frightful regularity. He shouldn't complain though. It was who she was. And life could never be called boring with her around.
However, while watching her talk excitedly with Giles and Mrs. Avery, her housekeeper, joining their discussion, he realized that the husband she was searching for might not appreciate, nor be nearly as understanding of their friendship as others were. This nameless man might even unfairly accuse Ichigo of intruding on their union and shut him out of her life entirely.
A cold shiver slithered down his spine. That thought didn't even bear thinking.
~o0o~
After finally extricating her from her staff, they arrived at the park later than expected, but still well before the daily crowd converged, and Ichigo wondered why he even bothered. Orihime was not a confident equestrian, nor would she likely ever be one. Her seat was good, but her attention wandered continually causing them to plod along at a snail's pace for her safety.
He could only scowl as others rode by at a brisk pace down the mile and a half track of the King's Road, leaving them behind in their dust. His temper was short lived though, all it took one look at Orihime's face, alight with a sense of adventure, and his impatience disappeared. He may not agree with the reason behind her joining him, but he did enjoy her company.
Perched on the board back of her spoiled horse with her right leg hooked securely around the pommel, Orihime happily observed the comings and goings of the other riders. She called out a cheerful greeting to everyone that rode by. None stopped for conversation, merely glancing at Ichigo as if to gauge their welcome before tipping their hats politely in Orihime's direction and riding on, safe in the knowledge that they escaped a confrontation with Kurosaki's famous temper.
Their ride followed that same vein for some time, quite satisfactorily to Ichigo's mind, until an older man, dressed more for the country than Town slowed his bay hunter and came alongside.
"Lady Orihime, this is a pleasant surprise."
Ichigo scowled as Orihime smiled brightly in return and offered her hand. Was she flirting with the man? Wait …what did she just call him? Lord Bletchley? He blinked in thought. That name sounded familiar. He repeating the name in his mind until it finally came to him. Lord Bletchley, otherwise known as Ian Leon or Viscount Bletchley, an old school chum of Sora's and a stuffy bore from what Ichigo could remember from the few times their paths crossed at Highwell Hall.
What the devil did he want with Orihime?
Lucifer pawed at the ground, blowing aggressively. His tension was transferring to his horse. Calm down, idiot. He grumbled under his breath. Ichigo wasn't certain if those words were directed more to himself or his horse as his hand fisted in the reins and he brought the blasted stallion under control.
"I beg your pardon; I'm holding up your ride." Lord Bletchley tilted his head in Ichigo's direction before glancing back at Orihime. Smiling once more, his pale blue eyes were tender as he fondly looked down on his late friend's sister. "I'll call on you soon. We can catch up then."
After giving their goodbyes, Orihime started her horse down the track again, deep in thought. "Ian's wife passed on a little over two years ago, leaving him with two young children if I remember correctly."
Ichigo didn't answer; Orihime didn't seem to notice either. Right now, she was in her own little world and seemed to regard him as nothing more than a benevolent confessor or something likewise benign. How little she really knew of him. It was so far from the truth it should have been laughable.
Instead, he found it annoying.
Unaware of his foul mood for the first time in memory, she blithely glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Perhaps, he'd be a likely candidate?"
Ichigo's eyes widen and he only just stopped himself from cursing in her presence. That old man married to Orihime? "You can't be serious?"
Switching her gaze to the passing lampposts, she shrugged her shoulders even as her fingers tightened on the reins. "Why not? Sora always spoke highly of him."
"He's more than fifteen years older than you."
"Well yes, but that is to be expected. Not many men want a wife my age. Moreover, he's already sired two children and that's practically a guarantee he can …can …well, you know."
Ichigo's eyes hardened and he practically spit out the word she continued to stumble over. "Procreate?"
"Y-yes, that."
Looking straight down the gravel track, Ichigo's mouth firmed, curling down at the corners. "Either that or his wife was unfaithful."
Orihime jerked her head around to stare at him. "Ichigo," she gasped, scandalized by his harsh cynicism. "That's rude to speak ill of the dead. Besides, I heard theirs was a love match."
He shrugged his shoulders unconcernedly. "I doubt that. Our class marries for expediency. Love is generally found with a lover, not a spouse. It's common nowadays for one man's nursery to house another man's bastard."
Her brown eyes caught spark and flared at his careless words. "And how many of your by-blows populate other men's nurseries?" Orihime snapped as she hauled back on the reins.
He drew his horse to a halt beside hers, staring, stupefied. What just happened? She'd never once made even the slightest mention of his affairs or raised her voice at him in anger. But just now she did both …
Orihime paled and slapped a hand over her mouth. She twisted in the saddle, her wide eyes imploring. "F-forgive me, that was terribly uncalled for. Please forget I said anything."
Ichigo blinked away his shock. Not so fast. He brushed away her apology and instead opened his mouth to demand to know what she meant by that. Did Orihime honestly think so little of him? The tortured look in her gaze stayed his questions though. And his heart throbbed painfully as tears gathered along her thick lashes.
Feeling like the worst kind of heel, his jaw snapped shut as rosy color heated his cheeks. She had him completely twisted around her little finger …and didn't even realize it. Pulling a neatly pressed handkerchief from his inside coat pocket, Ichigo thrust it towards Orihime and muttered awkwardly. "Don't carry on so, there's no harm done."
Her gaze darted from the white linen square to his eyes even as she hesitantly reached for it. "B-but …"
"But nothing, dry your eyes." Ichigo ordered softly and folded her fingers around the handkerchief, giving them a reassuring squeeze.
She whispered her thanks and obediently dabbed at her eyes before glancing around and then blowing her nose too.
"Better?"
"Y-yes …I don't know what got into me. T-that was a horrible thing to-" Ichigo arched a brow and shushed her before she could say any more. She pressed her lips together and nodded before tucking his handkerchief away. "I'll have this washed and return it to you quickly."
"There's no rush. I have more." Ichigo replied easily with a crooked smile. Straightening in the saddle, he gestured to the track ahead with a quick nod of his head and asked. "Shall we?"
They continued their ride with Orihime chattering about amusing stories from the hospital in an effort to return to their normal banter. It fell flat though. There was now an awkward tension between them, one that never existed before. And the morning as a whole resulted in failure. However, Orihime remained optimistic that tomorrow would yield better results.
It didn't.
Neither did the next day.
Or the day after that.
Monday morning he arrived to find Orihime already in the saddle with one of the stable grooms standing beside a hackneyed old mare preparing to mount.
Wheeling Lucifer, Ichigo came alongside Orihime and glanced pointedly at her groom. "What's this?"
Needlessly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture, she avoided his gaze, seemingly interested with the high points of his starched collar. "I thought I'd ride the track with Bailey this morning. It's not fair of me to keep holding you back."
"Pull the other one, Orihime."
She blinked in surprise and stuttered. "It's just that I k-know how you enjoy riding at a faster pace than …" His eyes narrowed and Ichigo arched an incredulous brow. Her cheeks flushed with guilty color as she dropped her eyes. "It …it was your mother's suggestion, actually."
"My mother?"
"Yes, she imagined no one will approach me with you hovering nearby." Orihime turned Ōmaeda's head and nudged the horse into motion.
Ichigo scowled at her retreating back. "Hover? I don't hover." He grumbled as she trotted off. Grinding his teeth in frustration, he spurred Lucifer after her. Maybe he did hover, but that's what his mother and Rukia asked him to do, wasn't it? It was for her own protection.
Waiting for him to catch up, Orihime rode at his side down busy Park Lane. "I'm sure she didn't mean anything by that, Ichigo. Your mother only meant that the two of us together present a picture that isn't conductive to me finding a husband."
Stopping at the intersection for a coach and four to pass, he mulled over her words in silence and didn't speak again until they maneuvered through the gate and into the park proper. "And what picture is that?"
She didn't answer for a moment, just concentrated on guiding her lazy gelding down the park's broad avenue before sighing. "That …that we have a prior understanding."
A dull blush stained his cheeks. Blaming it on the brisk May breeze and not the thought of a betrothal to Orihime, Ichigo tugged on his neckcloth and gruffly muttered a succinct, "Balderdash."
She studied him, her thin brows furrowed under the brim of her little hat. "Nonsense or not, all I know is what we've been doing isn't attracting any attention."
"Is getting married that important to you?"
Orihime swallowed and stopped her horse at the beginning of the gravel track before glancing away. "I'll be fine from here, Ichigo. You …you can go."
There was no mistake; he was being dismissed. Her answer in this case couldn't be clearer.
Ichigo bit back his immediate reply with difficulty and instead sent Bailey a hard look, charging the grizzled man with her safety. Tipping his hat in Orihime's direction, "As you wish." he spoke tight-lipped and spurred Lucifer forward before he spoke the sharp words balanced on the tip of his tongue.
It wouldn't be fair to heap his ire on her head. Orihime didn't deserve it. It was nothing more than his bruised feelings seeking an outlet. His dearest friend didn't want him by her side, the one place he felt comfortable, accepted, needed. This was the second time she's pushed him away. And Ichigo could not lie, it hurt every bit as much as it did when he was 18.
~o0o~
"Where's mother?"
"Hello to you too, Ichigo." Isshin murmured from under the newsprint covering his face. Tossing the paper aside, he glanced at his scowling heir before sitting up. Naptime was obviously over.
Giving him a halfhearted salute of greeting, Ichigo paced his father's flamboyantly decorated office like an animal caged. He couldn't get the picture from earlier of Orihime riding the bridle path, escorted by none other than Lord Bletchley with Bailey riding a respectful distant behind. Laughing and smiling, she didn't even notice him passing by on his return. And he'd been seething ever since.
Isshin stretched and yawned before remembering Ichigo's question. "Your delightful mother is presently taking tea at Number Four. Your sister wanted to discuss some things with her."
Yuzu huh? Ichigo plowed his fingers through his hair, ruffling the unfashionably bright orange strands into further disorder. He forgot his younger sister was in town for the season with her husband. But that didn't answer why they couldn't have taken tea here. Unless …unless his mother knew he'd come here demanding answers. Likely. Masaki Kurosaki knew her children well and could easily anticipate their actions.
"How long will she be gone? I want to ask her why she's needlessly interfering."
Isshin arched a brow at his son's peeved tone. "Does this have to do with your abbreviated morning ride?" He taunted, glad for once that news about his son's activities traveled fast. Stretching his arms out along the back of the sofa, the elder Kurosaki smirked at Ichigo's obvious distress. "Feeling thwarted, are we?"
Ichigo came to a dead stop and threw his father a withering glare. "That's not even remotely funny, old man."
Blowing out a breath, Isshin dropped his chin to rest on his chest, hoping he hadn't been nearly this humorless or stubborn when he was his son's age. He'd have to ask his wife later, and maybe squeeze a compliment or two out of her in the process. That woman was dreadfully stingy when it came to praise; only complementing him once in all the time they've been together.
He lifted his head and gazed at his scowling son. Maybe that was what Ichigo needed right now, a boost to his confidence, a little praise. His ego must have taken quite the hit this morning what with Orihime choosing to ride alone rather than with him, and then to have her end up with the highly eligible Lord Bletchley. What a blow.
"You know you're considered quite the catch, too. Titled and wealthy, plus, you're a handsome young man in top physical condition, just like your father. It's no wonder the ladies adore you like they do." Ignoring the horrified look his son was sending him, Isshin smugly stroked his sparse black beard before jumping up from his seat to take Ichigo by the shoulders. "Don't lose confidence just because a rival has appeared, it's time to stop dawdling and stake your claim before someone else does."
"Claim …w-what claim?"
His son was hopeless. Completely and utterly. Isshin thought with a dramatic groan. "On Orihime, who else?"
Ichigo froze. The sound of his heart hammered in his ears as visions of his beautiful friend flashed through his mind. Claim Orihime? His mouth opened and closed uselessly before he turned his face away, snapping. "Do you even hear yourself? You're speaking nonsense."
Watching from under lowered brows as his son strode stiff-backed to the door, Isshin murmured under his breath, "No, my dear boy, what you're doing is nonsense."
~o0o~
A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. ~Rairakku
