a/n Ooooook… I'm going to make daddy Charles Scottish because I LOVE SCOTTISH MEN. Also, if you haven't read "Under the Veil of Honorable Marriage" yet… WTF IS THE MATTER WITH YOU! You can find it on my favorites list if you feel the urge. It rocks my socks. Seriously. The socks? They're gone, my friends. Out the window—gone. Rocked. I mean that. ROCKS MY SOCKS! Original and really nifty. Wait… nifty isn't a good enough word. Try "ingenious" or "inspired." Can you tell I love it? Really… Okay, I'll stop now. Read on, my minions!

CHAPTER 11—BRACING

Christine awoke the next morning still feeling groggy and with a bit of a headache. The curtains were still closed, as was the gossamer curtain around her bed. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she shoved the curtains aside and climbed from bed. Discarding her nightgown, she changed into a simple skirt and a white blouse. Pulling on stockings over her bare feet, she shuffled from the bedroom and down the stairs.

Only Nadir and Bellona remained at the breakfast table, and Bell smiled as Christine walked in.

"She lives!" Pulling out a chair next to her, Bell motioned for Christine to sit. "How do you feel this morning?"

"Tired," Christine muttered. "And thirsty."

Bellona poured some water into a glass and handed it to Christine. Not realizing exactly how thirsty she was, Christine drained the entire glass while Nadir and Bellona watched.

"Are you going to feel better by tonight?" Bell asked.

Setting down her glass, Christine frowned in confusion as the older woman refilled it. "What?"

"Didn't Papa tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Damned fucker," she growled. Bell put the water pitcher down with a thunk before she stood up, a smile pasted on her face, although her eyes were flaring. "We may have a problem. Excuse me."

As Bell left the room, Christine looked to Nadir. "What's tonight?"

Nadir took a sip of his coffee before setting down his newspaper and folding his hands neatly on top of it. "Bellona and Raoul's engagement party is tonight."

The water Christine had been drinking came from her mouth in a spray. "What?"

"Yes, people shall begin arriving around six, and dinner is at seven with a ball following."

There was a small commotion in the hall, and the pair of them turned to see Erik being shoved into the dining room by an angry looking Bellona. "Papa's going to take you to buy you a dress, Christine," said Bell. "He was supposed to take you last week, but it seems to have slipped his mind." She smacked the back of her father's head, frowning deeply. "I can't remember to do everything myself, I have a baby to look after!"

She left in a huff, leaving an awkward silence behind her. "Well." Erik shifted uncomfortably. "When would you like to leave?"

Fifteen minutes later, the awkward silence had returned in the carriage. Christine had changed into a blue day dress and matching slippers and pulled her hair hastily into a bun before rushing downstairs and into the carriage with Erik. They were going to a shop in Beauvis that Christine had never heard of—one that carried ready made dresses that could be quickly altered, at a price.

"Do you have any idea of what you would like?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing pink," she blurted out. Blushing, she looked out of the window, remembering the last time she had worn a pink dress in front of Erik. It had been nothing short of a disaster. That had been the night…

She blushed even deeper as she remembered with both pride and embarrassment how Raoul had tried to convince her that she needed to relax. She had agreed, but his idea of relaxation was much different than his had been. She had refused to go to bed with him, saying she refused to bed a man before marriage, but that had not been her real reason for not sleeping with him. Any thoughts of sexual passion she was having that night had not been, nor had they ever been, for Raoul, but for the man who had told her she belonged to him. Unable to continue thinking this way without blurting out something embarrassing, she asked, "Have you sent in any new music to your publisher?"

Erik looked up, a bit surprised at this sudden change of subject, but grateful for it nevertheless. "I sent in a fantasy yesterday," he said. "Piano and voice."

"A fantasy for voice?"

"Yes," he said, smiling a bit. "You would probably like it."

She smiled. "That's what Bellona said." A thought suddenly came to her mind. "I hope I'm not offending you if I ask this, but… does Bellona always swear so much?"

Erik burst into a fit of laughter. After a moment, he calmed a bit, enough to say, "Yes, I suppose she does. She's worse than me. Wait until tonight—she'll be fifty times worse. Every other word emitted from her mouth will consist of a mere four letters."

Christine giggled. It felt so good to be able to talk with Erik—to laugh with him—as if there had never been anything wrong between them. "Full of swear words and even more stubborn than you, I'd go so far as to say."

"I don't know about more stubborn," he said defensively. "Just more…" He paused, searching for a word, then shook his head. "What am I saying? She's a woman and related to me. She's long since defeated me in amounts of pigheadedness."

"Ah, so all women are stubborn."

"Of course. Look at you. You are too stubborn to admit that women surpass men in levels of stubbornness."

"I am not."

"I'm only thankful that you don't have a gun in your hand."

As the carriage jerked to a stop a few minutes later, both of them were still laughing. Climbing out before her, Erik held out a hand to help her down. Christine looked at the window of the shop in front of her. There did not appear to be many people inside, but the few women there looked very wealthy.

Christine felt distinctly uncomfortable as she entered the shop, clutching Erik's arm tightly. He gave her an encouraging smile before leading her to the shopkeeper.

"Lord de Rouen!"

Christine frowned a bit as she looked about for whoever had called out to Erik. Lord de Rouen? Why had he never mentioned a title before?

A woman cheerfully greeted Erik with a smile. She was plump, and appeared to be in her late forties or early fifties. "Lovely to see you! This must be the young lady your daughter told me would be in… last week?"

"Yes," he said quickly, blushing a bit. "Bellona gave you her measurements, yes?"

"Oh yes, but I don't know if we have anything for her here…" She smiled good-naturedly. "She's simply too lovely for her own good, just as you said."

Christine felt her face heat up, but she smiled. "Thank you, Madam…"

"Just Annabeth, darling," she said, beaming. Taking Christine's hand, she nodded to several chairs. "You just have a see there, my Lord, and we'll show you whatever dresses your lovely lady wishes to see."

"No!" Christine grinned and whispered to Annabeth. A smile crossed the older woman's face as she said, "A young woman after my own heart."

Erik heaved a sigh and resolved to sit in the chair for what promised to be a long morning.


It was four hours before Christine and Erik made their way back to the house in the country, and it took another hour to get there. It was four in the afternoon when Erik helped her down from the carriage. She was smiling more brightly than he had seen her do in a long time, and he felt that, although long, the morning had been a success. Not only in the finding of a dress, but… something else…

Raja was sitting on the lawn with Nadir, fanning herself in the warm afternoon sun. When the carriage pulled to a stop, she got to her feet, smiling, and crossed the yard to them. Christine waved excitedly, and the two of them rushed inside, giggling.

Nadir shook his head. "No matter how old or young they may be, the prospect of a fancy dinner always seems to appeal to women."

Erik chuckled. "I have no idea what I bought her," he said. "She wouldn't show me—said she wanted to surprise me."

Both of them laughed at this and moved up to sit on the porch. As they drew nearer to the house, they saw Raoul resting on the bench that overlooked the lawn. If Erik didn't know any better…

"Are you hiding, boy?" he barked.

Raoul jolted up, looking around frantically. No, maybe he wasn't hiding, just sleeping. "I didn't know she needed changed! I—" His eyes slid into focus and came to rest on a chortling Nadir and a frowning Erik. He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Why aren't you inside helping my daughter?" Erik asked, still frowning.

"She kicked me out." He shook his head. "Said I kept getting in the way."

"What were you doing?"

"Exactly what she told me." Sitting all the way up, he stretched. "I wouldn't go in there if I were you. She's on a rampage."

Erik opened the door. He was met with a mix of orders and curses from inside. He promptly shut the door and moved to sit in a lounging chair at the far end of the porch. "For once, I think you may be right."

Not ten minutes later, the door burst open and a fuming Bellona stood in the frame.

"What the hell!" she shouted. "Get your lazy asses inside, move the piano, and get ready! I don't want people to come in here thinking the men my family can't dress better than a bunch of fucking male prostitutes!"

There was a pause after the door slammed shut before all three men burst into a fit of laughter.

"We look like male prostitutes, then?" Raoul managed to spurt out between laughs. "Here I thought I put particular work into making myself look lady-like and presentable!"

Erik was doubled over in his chair, but he managed to say, "Ah, well, I suppose it's the pants. Although, they do accentuate your figure."

Still laughing, the three of them made their way inside and managed to move the piano into the entranceway without further enraging Bell. Having already ordered the maid to draw up a bath, he stepped into the bathroom that adjoined his room, stripped down, and lowered himself into the steaming water with a groan. His aching muscles praised the heat and he rested his head on the back of the tub. For several wonderful minutes, he merely sat in the hot water, immobile. When he moved to reach for the soap, he felt exactly how relaxed his muscles had become. It felt amazing.

An hour later, he climbed from the cooling water and dried off, toweling his hair as he walked back into the quiet of his room. He dressed in silence, tying up his cravat with his usual flourish. As he did up his shoes, he wondered why he was so nervous.

When Erik emerged at a quarter to six, he walked down the stairs to find Bellona pacing slowly back and forth, gently bouncing a crying Aimée while Raoul gently consoled her. Bell looked helplessly toward her father as he walked down the stairs.

"She's been colicky lately," she said worriedly. "She's so fussy—what do I do?"

Erik could not help the smile that crossed his face. He had never pictured his swearing, spitfire of a daughter having a daughter of her own, let alone asking him for advice. "I wouldn't worry about it," he said. "The weather's changing—it's probably just a small cold." When she still looked worried, he added, "The doctor will be in attendance tonight. I'm sure he wouldn't mind taking a look at her."

Bell heaved a sigh and walked slowly toward him, still gently bouncing little Aimée. "You try," she said. "She seems to like you better when she's like this."

Aimée protested a bit more as she was passed between them, but once Erik had her in his arms, she resumed her soft fussing. For several minutes, he simply rocked her back and forth as Bellona had done, but he hummed a bit, low in his chest, and she seemed to calm a bit. She even cooed as her tiny hands curled his shirt into her fists. After a few more minutes, she yawned, and Erik smiled as he realized that she had fallen asleep. Bellona smiled gratefully and pointed her finger up toward the nursery, pressing a finger over her lips.

As carefully as he could, Erik ascended the stairs and turned down the hall on the second floor to put the small child into her cradle. Just ahead of him, a door opened and Christine emerged. Erik did not pay much attention to the dress she was wearing, instead noticing the undecipherable look on her face as he walked slowly past her, still rocking a bit. Stepping into the nursery, he handed her off to the nanny, who was reading a book in a corner. She smiled at him as she gently helped Erik put Aimée into the cradle. Erik mouthed a word of thanks to her before quietly stepping out, closing the door quietly behind him. Christine was still standing in the hall, and now that he no longer had an armful of baby, he took in her appearance.

She was wearing a gown with shortened sleeves that just covered her shoulders. A ribbon of satin was tied about her waist, showing off her lovely figure, and the dress itself was made of silk damask. The floral design of the dress was of woven satin of a blue-gray that caught the light when she turned. Her hair had been released from the tight bun of the last few weeks, and it hung in all its curly glory around her shoulders. She was wearing a small, almost apprehensive smile, and Erik smiled back.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"You look lovely, Christine," he said, forcing his throat to stop closing up and his voice to be steady. "That dress looks like it was made for you."

For several minutes, they stood in silence, both of them wanting to speak, but wanting the other to speak, as well. After a bit, he cleared his throat. "I suppose we should go down, then." Stepping closer to her and holding out his arm. She took it, smiling, and together, they stepped toward the stairs and the people down below.

A large crowd had already congregated—Erik did not realize how long it had been. It was already a quarter of six. Bellona smiled up at him as he slowly descended the stairs with Christine—it felt surreal, really, to be in his own home, the host of an engagement dinner for his daughter with Christine on his arm. Perhaps surreal wasn't even a strong enough word. He wasn't sure if there was a word for this feeling…