"Mademoiselle Destler, the Vicomte de Chagny is here to see you." Jean announced to Claire. Pursing her lips in quiet fury, Claire crossed her arms over her chest.
"You may tell him that I am not feeling up to seeing him." She replied with a wave of her hand. She ignored the looks of her mother and Julienne. Bella still had not risen from bed even though it was nearly eleven! Claire hoped her sister was not ill. A moment later, Gustave strode into the library, looking quite proud of himself. He was dressed remarkably and his fair hair was brushed neatly to the side. He bowed to her mother and sister before turning to her. Jean gave Claire an apologetic look.
"He said it was important."
"I'm sure." She replied acidly, glaring at the Vicomte. He grinned down at her, sitting at her mother's gesture.
"What is going on here?" Evie asked suspiciously, looking at the pair of them. Claire refused to meet Gustave's eyes.
"Monsieur de Chagny, thinks that he is going to court me." She replied staunchly.
"Are you?" Evangeline asked him, trying to mask her amusement.
"Of course." He answered, giving her his most charming smile. Claire fumed, seeing the ease with which he charmed ladies.
"Well I hope you enjoy courting no one, Monsieur." Claire retaliated furiously. "Because I am not going anywhere." Not missing a beat, he crossed his legs and helped himself to a tea cake.
"No matter. I shall sit here with you all day then, Mademoiselle Destler."
To Claire's utter horror, Gustave winked at Julienne, who blushed heavily. Claire scowled at her little sister, the traitorous brat. Claire ignored her mother's pointed gaze as she set about pouring tea for herself pretending as if she didn't notice Gustave was in the room.
She did notice, embarrassingly so, as their kiss from the previous night ran through her mind over and over again. Claire Destler had never imagined that touching a man's tongue with hers could create the heady sensations that it had within her. The tight coiling in the pit of her belly…
"Claire?" Evie asked, bringing Claire's eyes up to meet the bright blue of her mother's. "You're flushed." Claire glanced quickly at Gustave, who was grinning like a fool. With a growl of frustration, she rose, discarding her tea and stalking from the room and down the hall into the vacant library. The infuriating man was at her heels, following her with intent. She spun on him, surprising him. He nearly fell over her, sending them both reeling. Luckily, he was quick enough to regain his footing and catch her around the waist.
"Let go of me, you scoundrel!" She hissed, pushing against his chest. Half a smirk remained as he let go of her waist and she fell the rest of the way to the floor. Claire watched through her fury as he ran a nonchalant hand through his golden brown hair. Pulling herself up, she tossed her long silk curtain of ebony hair behind her shoulder and faced him, eyes blazing. Pointing an accusatory finger at him, she started toward him. "I am not one to be dictated to, and most certainly do not want to be courted by you, Gustave de Chagny!" He pursed his lips, but did not move away from her. "You took nearly a decade to notice me…and then you manipulated me into thinking you were decent and good! You took advantage of my feelings!"
"Do you truly believe that, Claire?" He asked, sobering. "You think I would sink so low as to manipulate the daughter of my mother's dearest friend to sleep with her?" Anger crept into his usually soft voice. "You actually believe that I would do something like that? Do you think my mother and father would forgive me if I were to hurt one of Erik Destler's girls?" He shook his head, laughing in disbelief. "Do you even know what my parents would say if they knew I was intending to court you? My mother would threaten me with my life that if it ended badly, I would be disowned! My father once said to me when I fancied Madeleine, 'Gustave, the Destler girls are all lovely, and you would be an idiot not to fall in love with one of them. But they aren't to be toyed with. If you do fall for one of Erik's daughters, you'd better make damn sure you want her for your wife before you pursue anything.' He said that to me!" Gustave took her by the shoulders with a firm grip. "So do not ever tell me I took advantage of you, Claire Destler, because this is it for me! I would not be here if I didn't have every intention of marrying you! If I have to prove it to you every day for the rest of my miserable life, I will! Just stop pushing me away, damn you!" His blue eyes bore into her light green ones. All Claire could do was stare dumbly at him in a sort of drunken open mouthed stupor. "Do you understand?" He demanded, shaking her slightly, but she managed a small nod.
"You want to marry me?" She asked, feeling slightly choked. Gustave gave her a look of pure exasperation.
"God knows why, but I do." He nodded fiercely. "I want to argue with you until the day I die…and knowing the effect you have on me, you'll probably win every blasted row." She saw the smile come back into his eyes. "What would you have me do, Claire? Get on my knees and kiss your feet?" To her shock, he sunk to his knees and grasped the hem of her dress. As he pulled it upward, she gasped.
"This is not proper!" She whispered, "My mother and little sisters are just down the hall!" He ignored her, grasping one of her slim ankles and removing the shoe. "Gustave, what are you--?" A loud sound of astonishment left her lips as he brought her narrow stockinged foot to his lips and kiss it gently. His eyes drifted up to meet hers wickedly as he grinned against the top of her foot. Reaching into the deep pocket of his morning coat, he withdrew something. Claire's eyes widened as she realized it was her own jeweled slipper. She vaguely remembered losing it the night of his family's spring musicale. He must have found it and kept it all these months! It's sister still sat in her closet. To think that he had held onto it so long…had he been in love with her all along? Her heart began to race erratically against her ribs. The hand gently encircling her ankle guided her small foot into the slipper.
"A perfect fit." Gustave murmured softly. He smiled up at her and her breath caught. She frowned though, feeling something against the bottom of her foot.
"Gustave, there's something in the--" She bent to remove the offending shoe when a flash of gold fell out of the shoe and into his ready hand.
It was a ring.
And he was on one knee.
"Oh my Goodness." She breathed, bringing her hands up to her face. Tears stung her eyes, as she gaped at him, overwhelmed, touched and thoroughly in love.
"Claire Destler, I am so disgustingly, indulgently in love with you that I can't think of anything else. When I close my eyes, the only think I see is your smile and the only thing I hear is your laughter. I love the way you glare at me when you're angry, I love the fact that you hate thunderstorms, I love how you hate the fact that you are the most beautiful woman in the world." His eyes met hers earnestly. "And you are." Sliding the ring to the base of her finger, he took her trembling hand between both of his. "I don't love you because you're perfect. I love you because you are not. And I don't ever want you to change." He stood then, so that he was towering over her. Claire felt her chin begin to quiver and saw the shadow of four heads peeking around the corner of the entrance to the library.
"You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say those things to me." She sobbed, letting him pull her against his warm, comforting chest. His hand cradled her head gently to him and she could feel him rest his cheek against the top of her head. Her hands had gripped the front of his shirt as she allowed herself to bawl into the fabric.
"You haven't given me an answer, Claire." She could hear the smile in his voice, followed by a long sniff. A muffled sob from the doorway told Claire she had been right about her family eavesdropping.
"Say yes!" Esme cried from the hallway, followed by a resounding chorus of shushes. Claire let out a chortle into Gustave's shirt and pulled away, uncaring that she was a blubbering, sentimental mess and that her dear, nosy family was witnessing the entire scene.
"Claire?" Gustave said once more, taking his handkerchief and wiping tenderly beneath her eyes with it.
"Yes." She managed to blurt, smiling wobbly at him. "I'll marry you."
"No taking it back." He warned. "You're stuck with me now until the day I die."
"I never wanted anyone else…" She murmured. "Never since I was ten years old, did I ever love anyone else. I never will."
A small, smile curved his lovely lips as he pulled her into the curve of his arm and hugged her against his side.
"Well, this was certainly easier than I thought." He chuckled. "I had visions of having to relive kissing your feet for weeks."
"The thought had crossed my mind." She giggled, feeling buoyant. "But you were so pathetic in your desperation, that I had to save you the humiliation." Throwing his head back, a rich howl of laughter left his throat at her teasing.
"Well, for that I am truly grateful then." He replied, using his thumb and forefinger to tilt her head up to look at him. Cupping her cheek, he bent to kiss her on the lips adoringly. Claire sighed, closing her eyes and finally letting herself give in to him. She didn't think she would ever stop smiling.
Charles looked up from his desk in surprise as a small shadow filled the doorway. His father and Tris had already gone and he had decided to work on a factory commission for some sort of machine company. Everything seemed like it was going to be done by machine one day.
"Working hard today, Monsieur Destler?" A thrill ran through him at the sound of his fiancee's voice. With a grin, he stood and walked over to kiss her cheek.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, holding her as he looked down into her lovely face. "I thought you were having lunch with the Dowager?"
"Grandmamma had to leave early because of another engagement with the Baron de Lorche." She explained. Charles raised a quizzical eyebrow at her.
"Really? Amorous pursuits?" He teased and Emmy smacked his chest with a laugh.
"Good God, I hope not!" She choked. "All she'd do was criticize any move the man made!" Emmy rolled her eyes. "She told me that my hair is overgrown and unseemly for the daughter of a Comte." Emmy explained. "After that she told my mother that she must learn that appearance is everything." Charles cringed.
"Good Lord," He exclaimed, "She sounds awful."
"She's about as sweet as a hedgehog, but we have to tolerate her because she is our Grandmother."
"Yes, but my Grandmother is delightful." Charles observed, thinking of Grandmere Giselle, who was staying with her eldest daughter as of late. She had written at the news of Charles's engagement. Grandmere was great fun and a good sport. Mother and all of his Aunts adored her as did his father. He couldn't imagine having to deal with a hateful shrew like the Dowager Comtess de Chagny. Especially when you were Emmy, who had always been self conscious. His hold on her tightened protectively.
"Are you all right?" He asked, concerned. A lilting giggle left her.
"Oh, yes." She assured him. "Mother and I have learned to brush off Grandmamma. She's never really like Mother, you see…and I look just like her so of course, she is more critical of me. But, you know," Emmy said, biting her lip, "I am proud to look like Mum."
"You should be," Charles agreed. "You're both beautiful." Emmy blushed at this, letting him kiss her quickly.
"We went to Madame Priscilla's this morning for my first fitting for the wedding dress." She added. Charles smiled, thinking of their impending wedding day, a mere few weeks away. With some persuasion, their families had consented to allow them to marry quickly.
"…Gustave was acting so strangely this morning," Emmy was saying, "He was pacing and planning and talking to Dad about something. Mum knew, but they wouldn't tell me what it was all about." Charles bent to press his lips to the side of her neck.
"I can't wait three weeks to marry you." He said, taking in the scent of her skin. "What did you bath in, some kind of special oil?" Emmy frowned, looking at him in confusion.
"Vanilla scented soap, like always…" She replied, "Why, is something the matter?"
"No. It's intoxicating…" He groaned. "Emmeline, I think you'd better leave soon or I won't be able to keep my hands off of you." He saw her eyes grow big, but she didn't move.
"Mum thinks I am shopping with Lillian and Darya." She said quietly. Charles felt his trousers tighten. He pulled her by the wrist further into the study and shut the door behind them, locking it.
"I'll only take a little then, but I've got to have at least this much of you." He said, leaning her against the desk and falling to his knees before her. Dragging up her skirt, he let out an audible moan at the sight of the silk stockings on her legs held up by blue silk garters.
Swiftly, he untied her drawers and pulled them apart, rubbing the tip of one finger against the silken flesh there.
"Ch-Charles!" She gasped, her head falling back. He watched in fascination as dark curls tumbled down her back and touched the cherry wood of his desk. Moving up momentarily, he kissed her lips hungrily and traced the contours of her mouth with his tongue. The breathy sound she was making was muffled against his lips. Quickly, he pulled down the square cut bodice of her day dress and found the tip of one erect nipple, circling it with his tongue. He repeated the gesture with the other before returning to his knees and hoisting one of her legs over his shoulder. He handed Emmy the hem of her dress to hold up.
"Don't take your eyes off of me." He instructed, inserting his finger completely into her opening. Her eyes began to roll back, but he made a sound. "Watch, Emmy."
Spreading her, he gave her a dangerous look before flicking his tongue against the small nub concealed within her folds. He kept the pressure of his finger inside her, hardening at the wetness he felt there. Expertly, he manipulated her bud with his tongue, watching in delight as her head tossed back and forth while she struggled to keep her eyes open to watch as he'd instructed. Her hands twined in his dark hair, holding him to her lustily.
He dared to add another finger to his machinations, moving them in such a way to manipulate her sex from the inside as well as his tongue on the outside. A moment later, she tightened around his fingers and cried out his name. He waited until her spasms had subsided to come back up and kiss her. A small flicker of amusement made him chuckle as she tasted herself on him. Gently, he readjusted her underclothes and settled her hem back to the floor before drawing her into a loving embrace.
"Nineteen days…" He breathed into her ear. She nodded, sagging limply in his arms.
"Nineteen days." She echoed weakly, clutching his shirt.
Tris followed Destler into his house as they returned from lunch with Charles to go over a letter from the overseer of Lady Easton's house in London. The house was bustling with activity as they entered with Madame Destler meeting them almost as soon as they entered the foyer. Monsieur Destler gave his wife a worried look, stopping to give her a quick, lingering kiss. Tris averted his eyes, feeling like an intruder on an intimate moment.
"You two have missed so much in your absence!" She exclaimed, smiling excitedly.
"What are you talking about, Evangeline?" Destler asked, giving her a wary look.
"Another of our children has become engaged." She said, reaching over to squeeze Tris's hand affectionately. "Three of our children…betrothed all in a matter of weeks!" Destler looked slightly taken aback.
"Which one?"
"Claire." Madame Destler explained.
"To whom?" Destler demanded protectively. "I wasn't aware that she was being courted!"
"Neither was I." His wife admitted. "It's Gustave de Chagny."
"Christine's boy?" Erik questioned dazedly. "Two of my children are marrying Christine Daae's children?" He rubbed his temples. "Oh dear Lord, if this isn't Fate, tell me what is, Keating!" Tris could only stare at his future father-in-law with a strange look on his face.
The two men followed Madame de Chagny into the busy parlor where all four of the present Destler girls were gathered around the Vicomte de Chagny. Tris noted that Claire was wearing two different shoes. A normal day slipper and a jeweled dress slipper. Everything was very odd, but everyone was chattering happily to each other. The sight of Bella cuddling Esme beside her brought the events of the previous evening back to Tris. Just as he'd noticed the first rays of sun coming over the horizon, he'd helped Bella dress and had guided her half asleep to her room, carrying her part of the way when he'd realized she was beyond exhaustion. Before he'd left with Destler that morning, he'd scrawled a quick note and had delivered it personally to her.
Now, he couldn't stop thinking about Bella's body lying ready and open beneath his and the delightful way she curved. Many girls he'd shared a bed with had been narrow and straight while Bella was deliciously round. After seeing her, he had no idea how he'd ever been able to stomach any other woman. And the noises she'd made under his skilled hands and mouth…somehow, he had to suppress his lust for her until they were properly married. They still were chancing the fact that she may be with child already.
Sensing his presence, she turned her head to look at him. Tris noticed the bright pink spots appearing on her pale cheeks and swallowed a grin. Her gingerbread colored eyes settled on him, and she gently settled Esme on the sofa and rose to come to him. He lifted his arms so that she could wrap hers around his middle, since he was much taller than she. His body went taut with arousal.
"Claire finally got her wish." Bella said, looking up at him as he brushed her dark locks away from her face. She smiled, glancing over to where her sister was showing their father her ring. Tris noticed the strained look on Destler's face, as though he were struggling to hold back his emotions. It was obvious to him that Claire Destler and her father shared a special bond. As a Viscountess, Claire would be admired throughout Paris society because of her intelligence and her ethereal beauty. She would command a room.
Tris had never realized how similar Bella and Claire were in their strengths. Though Bella had never known her own appeal, Tris could see the confidence inside her building. She would excel in being a Marchioness, Tris could see now. She had a quiet, dry wit that most people overlooked because of her sweetness and once in a conversation with Bella, one could talk for hours comfortably and never lack for conversation. This was a key trait for success in London society. A hostess had to know how to command a room and keep the flow of things. Tris could not believe how he hadn't thought about it before.
"Will you walk with me, outside?" Bella asked, taking his hand. He nodded, smiling at Claire, who still looked a bit awestruck. Her eyes were glazed with tears still, but she looked completely content even as she hugged her father. Tris let Bella lead him out onto the back terrace.
"Did you put me back into bed this morning?" She asked sheepishly after a moment. Tris grinned, sitting on a chair and pulling her into his lap. Bella put an arm around him and toyed with his hair, which was much too long for his own liking.
"I did." He affirmed, tracing the design on her bodice. Her chocolate brown hair was let down, hanging lusciously over her shoulders and giving off a sweet flowery scent. "You were awake, but I saw you waver just before your door, so I had to carry you."
"I can't wait until I can wake up in the same bed as you." She mused, but then looked slightly alarmed. "You're not going to sleep in a separate room when we return to London, are you?"
"Why would you even think that?" Tris asked, a bit put out. "I can't even stand when you're not beside me during the day…how could I spend a night without you?"
"Many married couples keep separate bedrooms…" She pointed out. Tris scoffed, holding her tighter.
"Not the Coolidges." He assured her. "We share a bed, show affection in public and I even insist on being present when our children are born." Bella let out a small, blissful laugh, resting her forehead against his. They stayed that way for a long while, enjoying the calm, summer breeze.
Unbeknownst to the young couple, not so far away, someone watched the two of them, hearing their every word. The girl was in the way and something had to be done about the match between the Marquis and the young, French girl.
A plan was hatching in the watcher's mind, even as measures had already been taken to ensure the success of it. After the girl was gone, the Marquis could finally return to his duties and everything would be as it should be once again with the Marchioness in her proper place at Keating Manor.
Still a little bit to go...but it's getting there!!!!