Obligatory disclaimer: The Mouse owns all, save for my own original characters.


At precisely two o'clock on Sunday afternoon, there was a gentle rapping on the door announcing Cutler Beckett's arrival. Claire was upstairs having her maid put the finishing touches in her hair, but she immediately picked up her skirts and dashed into the hallway to watch Cutler enter. Leaning over the banister – in a very unladylike way – Claire watched the butler make his way to open the door.

The bright light of a gorgeous day spilled onto the floor as the door was drawn open. The instant Cutler walked into the foyer, he looked up and saw Claire bent over the railing. Apparently she did not realize that the angle at which she was bent gave everyone below an excellent view of her décolleté. The rose-colored dress she wore had a low scoop neck that was edged with white lace. It was the perfect combination of innocence and sophistication, which nearly caused Cutler to lick his lips in anticipation.

Instead, he curved his lips into a smirk and as he handed his coat to the butler, Cutler called up to Claire, "Good afternoon to you, Miss Russell. 'Tis a beautiful day outside. I thought you might care to go for a ride."

Mortified that Cutler had not only seen her, but that he had called out to her before his presence had been announced, Claire straightened her back and fought the urge to retreat out of sight. Instead, she feigned an air of indifference, despite the quaking of her knees, and set her shoulders in determination. Yes, she had erred socially, but all was not lost. Claire just needed to pretend that she was someone more refined… more sophisticated… than she was in order to smooth the awkward moment over.

Her dress was chosen and donned under the direction of Claire's mother and Anna, Claire's dressing maid. The white lawn dress was perfect for an afternoon tucked away in the parlor, chatting over a cup of tea. But it was not at all appropriate for an afternoon out in the sun. The neckline was much too low and the sleeves left her arms mostly bare. Her mind was racing as Claire pasted a cheerful smile on her face and slowly descended the staircase.

Taking the bouquet of flowers that Cutler presented her, Claire gently sniffed at the roses before responding. "These flowers are beautiful. Thank you ever so much. And I think that enjoying this equally beautiful day is a lovely idea. Let me just put these to water and then get a hat and parasol. I shan't but take a moment and then we can be on our way. My father is in the library if you would like to chat with him while you wait. Or Albert here can pour you some tea in the parlor…" Claire felt like a little girl playing at being grown up. And the feeling was only exacerbated when Cutler smiled at Claire. Her ability to speak left her and she was left standing dumbly next to Cutler, staring down at the marble floor.

Cutler felt an immediate sense of accomplishment. It was obvious that Claire was more engaging than he in conversation, but it seemed that she also had the same sense of social awkwardness that Cutler felt. However, when Claire sensed the conversation slipping away from her, her distress was endearing… rather than aggravating. Watching her trace the pattern of the marble floor with the toe of her shoe made his heart swell. Cutler suddenly knew that his courtship of the fair Claire Russell would go smoother than he had anticipated.

With a slight bow, Cutler looked up at Claire and smiled. "I will go say hello to your father in the library so take your time."

Claire scurried up the stairs where she was met by her mother. Once Cutler was safely ensconced in the library with Claire's father, Elaine hissed at her daughter, "Do not scamper like some pet chipmunk! And do not move into his line of sight until you are announced ever again. Now, we must choose a hat that will keep you from freckling and a parasol to match." Claire's mother then wrapped her fingers around Claire's wrist, her skin turning white under the pressure, and pulled her into the bedroom.

Ten minutes later, Claire descended the stairs for the second time to see Cutler. Knocking gently on the library door, lest she walk in on a conversation her ears were not meant for, Claire did not wait for a response. Slowly opening the door, Claire ducked her head in and upon seeing her father on the far side of the room, beamed at the man. When he returned her smile, Claire opened the door further and slid into the room, closing it quietly behind her.

Placing her hands on her hips in mock severity, Claire spoke to Cutler, but her words were for her father. "Cutler, I meant not to keep you waiting for so long, so I thank you for your patience. I certainly hope that my father has not regaled you with the same stories that you and I both grew up with."

Her father rose from his chair and stretched. In deference to the older man, Cutler stood also. Once Walter Russell had worked all the tightness out of his back, he tried to look wounded by Claire's words. "Now, Claire, is that any way to treat your father? After everything I have done for you? Now Cutler, I hope that someday, when you are bestowed with a houseful of children, your daughter treats you with an ounce more of respect." But the words were softened by the twinkle in his eye. It was obvious that Claire was the apple of her father's eye.

The effect of Claire standing by the doorway, bantering with her father, left Cutler at a complete loss of words.

In the bright sunlight pouring through the library windows, Claire stood there like an angel descended. The white dress she wore certainly hugged her figure, but instead of emphasizing her womanliness, the dress only highlighted her purity. Her parasol was hooked over her wrist and the hat she wore brought out the otherwise unnoticeable color in her cheeks. Previously, her hair had been piled in curls upon her head, but now half of her tresses curled and meandered their way down her back. Her brown eyes sparkled like amber stone and her full lips were curved into an affectionate smile, revealing a dimple in her right cheek.

Cutler barely heard Claire's reply to her father, "I speak the truth. Your stories have been told millions of times. But with each recounting of the tale, I love you all the more. However, Lord Beckett did not come here to see you, although I am sure that the two of you have so much more to catch up on. It has been quite some time since we all saw him last."

Cutler jumped slightly when Walter Russell's hand clamped onto his shoulder. "Cutler, my boy, while I would not let any other young suitors take my daughter out from under my nose, I trust you implicitly with my Claire. However, do not make me regret that trust. The only thing that I ask is that you do not keep her out too late. Call me old fashioned, but I like to have dinner with my family on every Sunday night possible. I just ask that you bring her home by six – at the very latest."

The reality of the moment came crashing down on the two of them. The magic of the moment shattered, causing Claire's carefree quips to dry up and Cutler's awe to dissipate. Suddenly, Claire felt the awkwardness of the situation wash over her like a wave. Sensing her uneasiness, Cutler put up a wall of bravado and smiled at Claire. He then turned and shook Walter Russell's hand and replied, "I shall not let you down. I thank you for the privilege of taking your daughter out for the afternoon. And I will have her back in plenty of time. Now, if it is alright with you, I wish you a good day, sir." The smile that curved Cutler's lips was a genuine one, for the man before him Cutler considered to be more of a parent than his true father.

Claire was grateful that her father did not walk them to the door, but instead sat back down in his chair. Her mother was waiting in the foyer, but only murmured a few words of pleasantries with Cutler before wishing them a wonderful time. But as Claire was about to set out the door, her mother whispered in her ear, "Being out of sight does not mean you should not be a lady at all times."

Once outside, Claire popped up her parasol and as it arced above her head, she stood gape-mouthed at the carriage waiting before the house.

Looking so new that Claire was almost convinced that it had never been used before, it was a pitch-black two-seater with a retractable top to put up during inclement weather. At the moment, it was folded back, revealing the luxurious interior. The bench seat was heavily padded and looked more comfortable than the sofa in the parlor. An ample storage area behind the seat made Claire instantly think of expensive shopping excursions. A pair of matched bays pulled the cart, their coats gleaming like polished gold in the sun. Their ebony manes danced as they ducked their heads repeatedly, anxious to be on their way. The brass of their harnesses nearly matched the brilliance of their coats and the black leather straps reflected the sunlight, obviously the result of long and vigorous polishing.

"They are beautiful," Claire murmured under her breath.

"I cannot see their beauty when I am beside you."

Such overt flattery pulled Claire from her scrutiny of the horses and she looked sharply at Cutler. Was this not the man who said he could not abide obvious frivolity with words? Instead of simpering and smiling like she knew she should, Claire said dryly, "That I highly doubt. It is obvious that you like to surround yourself in beauty." Realizing the implications of her words were slightly self-adulation, Claire quickly continued, "It is obvious that you dote on the animals. And rightly so. I am not fool enough to think that those horses are not your pride and joy. Now, come, I would love to see you put them through their paces."

Cutler had to duck his head, lest Claire see the smile that was threatening to split his face in two. Hidden under that reserved and timid façade was a saucy little minx. It was going to be quite enjoyable seeing how far he could bend her.

As Cutler helped Claire climb into the carriage, his hand grazed her bottom for a second or two longer than necessary. He felt her stiffen in surprise, but smiled to himself when she continued to slide onto the seat rather than turn and smack him across the face. Cutler would not have blamed the woman for abandoning their plans and running back inside, but her acceptance of his behavior told Cutler that Claire would allow him to push her further and further.

Cutler flipped a coin to the boy that he had hired to watch the horses, then swung up onto the seat next to Claire and gathered the reins. Unsure of what to do when she felt the warm press of his thigh, Claire ignored the feeling but did sit up straighter. As the carriage lurched forward, Claire took advantage of the moment and repositioned herself as far over on the seat as possible, under the pretense of switching her parasol from one hand to the other.

Long moments of silence passed and still Cutler gave no indication of their destination. Grasping for something to say to fill the quiet surrounding them, Claire asked, "So, where is it that we are we going this fine afternoon?" It nearly killed her that her voice sounded so small.

His chin rose and a chuckle spilled past Cutler's lips. "Ah, but that would ruin the surprise, now would it not?"

Not knowing what else to say, Claire listened to the clip-clop sound of the horses' hooves on the road and watched her surroundings transform from densely populated buildings to the more open and undeveloped countryside. Claire was surprised when Cutler suddenly guided the horses off the main road and had them head towards a wooded area. Concerned that they were so isolated, Claire felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest. She had thought that an afternoon out meant taking a walk in the park or visiting some of Cutler's friends. Even having coffee and pastries at a café.

Not traipsing around the English countryside.

As if reading her thoughts, Cutler explained, "I was out surveying some land a few months back and happened upon this area. It reminded me of home. I thought that you might enjoy a brief respite from the city." He then stopped the horses and jumped down from the seat.

Cutler came around to help Claire down from her seat and she smiled at him warmly. Instead of taking her hand and helping her descend, he placed his hands around her waist – his fingers nearly able to span Claire's waist – and slowly lowered her to the ground. Once she was halfway down, Claire realized that she was rubbing down the length of Cutler's person. Her cheeks burned red and she turned away, lest he see her embarrassment. She moved away from the man before he tried anything else similar.

Claire walked around slowly, taking in her surroundings. The glen, with the dappled light filtering through the trees and the dancing water of the nearby creek, did indeed remind Claire of her childhood in Northwich. It just surprised Claire to find Cutler so sentimental. And so sensitive to her feelings.

But not so sensitive to her boundaries.

"So what is it that you like to do?"

The question caught Claire off-guard. She had drifted over towards the creek, watching the water twirl and bounce over the rocks. She turned, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Do? I am afraid that I do not understand."

A brow arched in amusement as Cutler drifted closer. He knew that the water would mesmerize Claire and so stopped the horses near an area where large rocks, perfect for sitting on, overlooked the creek. And her confusion made her look vulnerable… which only made Cutler want her all the more. Standing so close that he could feel the warmth of her skin, Cutler explained, "In your free time. Are you not a lady of leisure trying to fill the hours in the day? Sitting around gossiping with other women as you sew edging on handkerchiefs?"

He was too close, so Claire just laughed and shook her head in feigned amusement, drifting over to a boulder and perching prettily. Twirling her parasol in her hands, she continued to smile at Cutler. "Well, the majority of my days are spent sewing, that is true. But it is because I make most of my own clothing. I care not for most of the fashions of late and what I do like, I find uncomfortable to wear. So I design and create my own. And clothing for my family and friends. Very few handkerchiefs pass through my hands."

Looking more than a little awed, Cutler rocked back and forth on heels. "Very impressive, I must say. But when you have free time, time to yourself, time to do whatever it is you want, what is it that fills your time? What is it that you wish to be doing other than sewing… cooking… the endless heap of chores?"

Claire knew that Cutler was teasing her, so she tried her best to be flippant as well. "Well… I suppose the answer is riding my horse, Centaur. Although it has been eons since I took him for a good run." Then she realized what the implications were.

And Cutler processed those implications immediately. Brightening visibly, Cutler crossed his arms across his chest and ambled slowly towards Claire. "Then I think next Saturday, we should go for a ride. I know a little stretch down by the river where we could race and possibly picnic. Would that be of interest?"

Another outing where it would just be the two of them alone, without the benefit of a chaperone, made Claire uncomfortable. She was not knowledgeable enough to know the intricate dance steps that were required to continue this courtship minuet. But instead of refusing his offer and countering with one of her own, Claire felt instant dismay when she heard the words spill past her lips, "That sounds delightful. It has been entirely too long since Centaur got to really let go and run. The competition will do him good. And I think that the last time I went on a picnic was… with you." The memory of the two of them packing a lunch and going down to the creek when Walter was sick came flooding back. "I must have been about nine or ten. William was about to go off to school and you were home visiting. I thought it was only a few short years since you two were kind enough to let me tag along in your adventures, but it has been… much longer than that. Cutler, where did our youth go?"

Cutler closed his eyes and smiled to himself. Where did their youth go indeed? "Claire my dear, you are right in the middle of the bloom of youth. You are entirely too young to sound so jaded." He turned and faced Claire, bemusement dancing in his blue eyes.

Claire scoffed. "Not jaded. Just… I see you and my brother all grown up and I sometimes wonder why I am not also. Then other times, I feel like I have been grown for much too long. I know I sound contradictory, but I feel like I have not moved forward in my life for far too long."

Cutler sat down next to Claire on the rock, much closer than she felt comfortable. But there were limited options and the next closest rock worth perching upon was ten feet away. Willing herself to appear as small as possible, Claire ignored the fact that Cutler's leg was firmly pressed against hers.

His breath ghosted across Claire's cheek. "I think you are at the perfect age, so fret not. Now, last week, I was quite remiss in kissing you without permission. I meant not to steal a kiss, but found myself helpless when in your presence. I would very much like to do so again, but am asking first. Would you mind very much if I kissed you once again?"


A/N: Thank you for stopping by and taking a peek.