A/N: Apologies for the delay. I had hoped to post something over the weekend, but surprise company kept me busier than I intended. Hope you enjoy this next update of our favorite butler and housekeeper. I'm having far too much fun tormenting poor Charles.

Chapter 26

The remainder of the evening progressed smoothly. No one alluded to his subsequent marriage, and the ritual aspect of his duties was enough to soothe him into a better humor. His step was much lighter as he made his way downstairs where he suspected Elsie would be awaiting him. He wasn't nearly as nervous as before. They were both professionals, both reasonable adults. A few moments alone together posed no singular threat to the household or its occupants. After all, they'd certainly shown a good deal of restraint throughout the years. He hadn't been a post this entire time. He'd acknowledged her to be an attractive woman, in spite of his efforts to regard her merely as one would the furnishings or wall hangings: ornamental and attractive, but not his. But now she was. She was his to caress and kiss, to hold and to confide all the secrets of his heart, should he choose to do so. Perhaps he would at that. Perhaps.

*CE*

He'd settled her in his most comfortable chair with a glass of sherry. He poured his own and lifted it to her in a silent toast. He sat across from her in companionable silence, his posture relaxed and a gentle smile on his face.

Elsie's voice was low and musical. "You seem to have recovered from tonight's dinner."

He nodded in agreement. "I have. Of course the company is a good deal more preferable."

She nodded her head elegantly in acceptance of the compliment, though he noticed her lips tighten and her chin wobble. He knew his attentions both pleased and embarrassed her. She was a practical woman, which was perhaps the one character trait that most easily enabled him to love her.

Elsie focused on sipping her sherry. After a long moment, she spoke again. "I notice you kept to your office this afternoon. I came across Mr. Barrow polishing the silver." She looked at him in mild anticipation. She couldn't think of the last time she'd seen Mr. Barrow polishing silver. Charles was especially particular about the silver. Her curiosity had been piqued.

Charles shifted about nervously and took another sip of his sherry. "I…well, that is…it is important that Mr. Barrow be given opportunities to perform some of my duties, occasionally. Preparing for the future and all that."

"I quite agree. What other purpose does he serve except to lighten your load?" She grinned mischievously at him. "I was only wondering how you spent your afternoon. Alone. In your office." She could see he was discomfited, but that only served to spur her on. She shouldn't tease, she really shouldn't, but he was becoming so flustered, a state which had always held great appeal for her. He was often so serious! Usually, she was able to bear it, but there had been occasions where it had provoked her into teasing him mercilessly and this was becoming one of those times. She would know what he was about.

"Well, I…there was…and then-"

"I did wonder if the reason you were secreted in your office had to do with that mysterious errand you ran this morning?" She sat back and watched confirmation of her theory play across his features. She stifled a chuckle.

He put his glass down, ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply. "I stopped in to see Dr. Clarkson this morning." Elsie's face froze. "I told you earlier that there was nothing to worry about." He reached for her hand. "I'm in perfect health, as far as I know."

"As far as I know?"

"Only I mean my next annual is in May. There is nothing wrong with me."

"Then why on earth did you visit Dr. Clarkson and why couldn't I accompany you? We are to be married, after all."

Charles cleared his throat. "I merely had some questions to ask of him, questions of a personal nature." He only hoped she might read between the lines. He studied Elsie's face as she listened to his words. She thought for a moment. She couldn't imagine what type of questions he might have for the doctor, questions he couldn't ask in front of… She flushed and attempted to pull her hand free of Charles' but he tightened his grip. "Don't be angry with me, love. I only wanted to know what difficulties we might-"

"Difficulties?" Elsie's incredulous voice cut across his ramblings. "Difficulties? You expect difficulties?" She rose abruptly and walked to the door.

"Elsie, wait." His voice was deep, authoritative. In spite of her anger and shock, she halted, cursing herself for reacting like a trained soldier instead of an embarrassed and hurt woman. "I said that very badly. I've been worried that perhaps I won't make a good husband. A proper husband."

She looked into his face, his dear, gentle face. He had the same mournful expression he'd worn when he asked her whether she found him ridiculous. That time, she'd ruthlessly stamped out any desire to offer him more than the encouraging words of comfort that she'd given him. Now, there was nothing preventing her from comforting him as fully as she wished. It was she who reached for his hands as she walked toward him. "Charles Carson, you'll make a very fine husband indeed. You don't need Dr. Clarkson to tell you that." She squeezed his hands gently. "What exactly is worrying you?" He could never, ever tell her exactly what was worrying him. He wasn't sure it was a conversation one could have with a wife, but certainly not with the woman to whom you were betrothed. She leaned in closer and whispered in his ear. "Are you worried about the wedding night? Because I don't mind telling you I am."

He swallowed and the click of his throat sounded as loud as a rifle's report in the silence. He licked his lips and nodded. They were close, so close now. Hadn't he vowed not to tempt himself again? Hadn't he vowed to keep his distance from her? "We'll learn together," she whispered. "We'll learn how to be married together." Her lips brushed against his ear as she whispered in his ear and he could feel himself respond to her. At least that wasn't a worry. He smiled as she looked up into his face and he allowed himself to stroke her face with his fingertips. She smiled, closed her eyes, and turned her face against his palm in the same beautiful, loving gesture that had begun this new dance between them. His breath hitched in his lungs and he cradled her face in his hands, kissing her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, and finally her mouth. She pressed herself against him eagerly and laughed between kisses.

"What do you find so funny?" he breathed.

"That you could ever possibly worry about…about… Well, I don't know what to call it, but I do know we don't have anything to worry about."

"I disagree," he said gently. "I don't want to hurt you, Elsie. It's the gentleman's responsibility to… well, to oversee, if you like-" He stopped abruptly in the face of her laughter.

She recognized immediately that her laughter had wounded his pride. "Oh, Charles. You are the kindest, most thoughtful man I've ever known. You are a man of honor and integrity who lifts the tone of this household by being part of it." She kissed him gently. "And don't you forget it."

"You'll be there to remind me, though, won't you?"

"Always, mo gradh."

"Moi rah? What is that?"

"It's from the Gaelic. It means "my love."

"Moi rah. Moi rah." He smiled in appreciation. "You're beautiful." She started to turn, but he tightened his grip on her arms. "You're beautiful, moi rah. You're beautiful, and you're mine." She nodded, mute. He kissed her again, more passionately than before, gently teasing her lips with his tongue. He maneuvered her against the wall and rubbed his hand along the curve of her waist, stopping at her hip. "We should stop." Elsie nodded. "It's late." She nodded again. "We should stop."

Elsie looked at him saucily. "We're getting on, Mr. Carson, you and I. We can afford to live a little."

Her arch comment brought him up short. He never quite knew how to respond to her teasing, especially now that they had an understanding between them. He could see the happy innocence in her eyes, and he smiled and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. "Indeed we can. And in just three weeks' time, we can afford to live as much as we like."

"Three weeks," repeated Elsie.

"It hardly seems real, does it?"

She shivered as his hot breath blew against her ear. "After all this time. You were an age, Mr. Carson, but I forgive you." She kissed him on the nose and ducked under his arm. "I'm off to bed, Charles. I'll see you in the morning. Good night, my love."

"Good night, moi rah."

She left swiftly and silently. He could just make out the sound of her heels tapping lightly against the stone floor. He smiled. Moi rah. Moi rah. He'd been fretting needlessly. As usual. He smiled as he locked up, pondering not only the information in that bloody little book, but the wisdom of his beautifully sensible soon-to-be wife.