Notes: I love playing around with historicals and this prompt was fun! I've uploaded 2 again today, this chapter and the next.
Second Time's The Charm
(Prompt: Historical AU + Dance of Romance. Rated T.)
Situated as she is, on the upper level that overlooks the ballroom, Caroline has a clear view of everything happening below. It's a crush and she's pleased but she'd needed a minute alone after the whirlwind of greeting her guests had finally waned.
She leans against the railing, searching the crowd for familiar faces.
Her friend Katherine dances scandalously close to her new husband. That he allows such a breach of decorum has ceased to surprise Caroline. She'd thought them an odd match when she'd heard of it - Elijah Mikaelson's reputation for stuffiness is well known and well earned - but seeing them together has soothed her doubts. He dotes on Katherine and Kat's enthralled of him, an impressive feat given how easily Kat had dismissed and forgotten her scores her suitors over the years.
Caroline's happy for them even if Katherine's love match has resulted in some unforeseen consequences for her.
If one could call a person such a thing.
Her eyes find Klaus, her consequence, easily. She's unsurprised to find him conversing with one of her footmen. Nor does she shy away when he looks up, his gaze locking on to her and a pleased smile curving his generous mouth. He says one more thing and the footman bows slightly, handing off a tray of champagne.
Caroline sighs as Klaus takes it and skirts the room. She's had the staircases hidden, spent a fortune on silks and hothouse blooms to construct pretty blockades, but Klaus ducks behind one of the structures, disappearing from sight.
She's just tugging her gloves back on when he reappears, having straightened from her appallingly casual posture. His eyes light up when he sees her and her sets the tray down on table, picking up one of the flutes. She considers chastising him for seeking her out – it's not the first time she's had to, undoubtedly won't be the last – but she's not at all displeased that he's found her.
Had she known Klaus would be interested in marrying her she never would have agreed to a tryst. Though now, with everything that's passed between them, she cannot regret that she had.
The end of her mourning period had coincided with the end of last year's season and she'd just missed the social whirl. Coming to town this year, she'd been eager to enjoy the freedom being a widow offered. Caroline had been prepared to be a bit scandalous.
The title she'd married into, the great piles of money her father willingly supplied (and Father's numerous business interests attaching him to notable members of the ton), would protect her from being publicly scorned. Caroline didn't much care what spiteful gossip got bandied about when her back was turned. Small minded cowards could say whatever they wished and it wouldn't bother her a jot.
She'd been introduced to Mr. Klaus Mikaelson at the second ball she'd attended. He'd been the only man she'd spoken to that evening to display more interest in her breasts than in the obscenely large emeralds that had draped over them.
He'd also been a lovely dancer, graceful, with sure hands, and he'd lingered in her mind once she was home, as her maid had combed out her hair.
Later, one the maid had been dismissed and the candles snuffed, Caroline had let her fingertips skim under her nightgown and wondered how dark the blue of Mr. Klaus Mikaelson's eyes would become when he was aroused.
She'd taken to looking for him whenever she'd entered a social event, to smile and return his appreciative gazes boldly. He'd always asked her to dance when they were at the same gathering. Whirling about the floor with him, flirting and laughing, had become the highlight of her evenings.
She'd endured leading questions from several of London's matrons, some disapproving - a third son, one who had a rocky relationship with his father was not considered a catch. As Caroline hadn't been looking for matrimony, she'd not paid any attention to those remarks. The bawdier ladies, the ones Caroline preferred, made sly jokes and pointed comments about home comely Klaus was, how his attentiveness to her in public spoke well of his prowess in private.
Caroline had batted the jesting away, insisted she merely flirting. Still, she hadn't been able to stop speculating at night, once her bed's draperies were closed, about what it would be like to allow Mr. Mikaelson to touch her.
So, when Kat had asked if a few of Elijah's siblings might come to the small house party Caroline was throwing, she hadn't hesitated to say yes.
Caroline, a lifelong believer in the power of planning ahead, had arranged for Klaus to stay in one of the rooms with a secret door. Should she wish to, if he'd been amenable, she'd be able to slip from the Duchess' chambers, through the narrow hidden corridors, and into his room without being seen.
She'd been willing to brush up against a scandal but courting censure directly hadn't been her aim.
At the house party, when Klaus has made excuse after excuse to speak to her, to tuck her hand into the crook of his arm and draw her away, she hadn't stopped him. When his hands had lingered on her each morning when he assisted her on and off her horse, Caroline hadn't protested. Had, in fact, set her hands on his shoulders and pretended her balance was poor and enjoyed his closeness.
When he'd mentioned that he liked to select a book from the library before retiring, Caroline had taken the invitation.
That first kiss against the bookshelves, heated and bruising and messy, had been the best of her life.
One kiss had melted into two, two into dozens. Her hands had shaken as she'd tugged his clothes aside, greedy to feel the heat of his skin. Klaus had been the one to slow them, to rasp that he wanted more than a frantic coupling against the bookshelves.
Caroline had assumed he'd just meant a bed. She'd been wrong.
Because while Klaus had taken her in his borrowed bed (and hers, along with over her dressing table and in her private bath, once she'd explained how to navigate the hidden hallways) he hasn't been content with just enjoying her body.
Caroline's first marriage had been cordial, not passionate, her husband two decades older. He'd been fond of drink behind closed doors, more and more as the years passed. He'd stopped moving about in society, had preferred his bottles to company. They'd stopped going to town, or entertaining their neighbors, and Caroline had been awfully lonely at their country estate.
She'd had no desire to be shackled to a man once more, to have her wants completely disregarded.
Caroline had explained as much to Klaus, kept her reasoning vague because, for all her husband's faults, she could have done far worse. She thinks he's guessed much of what she'd not voiced, that he gleaned more from her face and voice than she meant him to.
That last night in the country he'd held her as their bodies cooled, told her that he planned to win her.
Caroline had been determined that he would not.
When they had first returned to town she'd been carefully distant, had refused his offers to dance, fled from conversations that included him. Klaus had been persistent, even when she'd turned cutting. If anything he'd seemed to find her sharpness amusing, his eyes dancing as he returned her quips easily, using their bickering as an excuse to crowd closer, to set her blood to heating with brief touches and suggestive glances.
She'd snapped not three weeks into their little war, had hissed that he could let himself in through the servants entrance of her townhouse after the ball.
Thankfully, her servants are paid well, always in a timely fashion, and are exceedingly loyal.
The dress she'd worn that night, a dazzling confection of ice blue silk and fine French lace, had ended up tattered beyond compare, tiny buttons scattered to every corner of her bed chambers.
She'd awoken sore and sticky and fantastically well-rested. Klaus' hand had lain heavy on her belly and his breath, even and deep, had warmed her shoulder. Caroline, before that night, had never slept with a man before, had found that she'd liked it.
Fairly terrifying, as far as revelations went. Any panic she might have felt had been easily chased away as Klaus had stirred, his hand delving lower, between her thighs. That he could bring her such pleasure, with just his fingertips and hushed words, was hardly fair.
She'd done her best to keep Klaus at arm's length, continued to refuse to dance with him, to avoid him in public as much as she could. His pursuit remained remarkably dogged. He shows up at whatever event she's attending - Caroline suspects her butler is playing matchmaker. He's in her bed most nights, stays to enjoy the papers and steal sips of the chocolate and bites of the buttered scones her maid brings her in the morning. April's ceased being scandalized, doesn't even blink at Klaus' near nude form when she bustles in. She's offered to bring an extra tray. So far, Caroline's refused.
He'll take whatever she'll allow, he's said, and Caroline's defences against him have weakened bit by bit. She might actually believe him when he claims he can make her happy. Klaus seems well aware that he's winning, that his prods and pushes are entrenching him deeper and deeper into her heart and mind. He's intelligent enough to keep his smugness contained.
Caroline knows his reticence is temporary. She expects he'll be unable to resist crowing when she shows him the marriage settlement papers she's had her solicitors draw up.
She'd planned to tell him tomorrow morning but perhaps she doesn't need to wait.
Klaus passes behind her, pausing to brush a fleeting kiss over her bared shoulder. Caroline checks the swarm of people below out of habit and, as expected, no one's aware of her and Klaus above them. "Need help with your glove?" he asks.
The buttons are giving her trouble and Caroline sighs, offering him her arm. "If you wouldn't mind?"
"I'd rather take them off, of course." Nevertheless Klaus leans in, squinting at the tiny buttons and even tinier loops of fabric they must go through.
"These are new and I'd rather not have them destroyed so I don't think that's a good idea."
His thumb strokes down her forearm and it's silly that she shivers, that she reacts so strongly to a caress blunted layers of fabrics. Klaus smiles softly, pleased, "Then you'd best remove them before you retire."
Caroline blinks in surprise, "I didn't think you'd want to come tonight."
His eyes flit up hers, "I hadn't planned on leaving. Thought I'd send my carriage away when the first guests trickle from the house, and slip round the back."
"I'll likely be late," Caroline says, "and tired. Too tired to…" she trails off, letting her gaze drift down Klaus' form. He looks delectable and tempting in sleek black evening clothes, so much so that Caroline wishes they had more privacy. Hosting a party is significantly more taxing than merely attending, the last time she'd had a ball here, back when she'd still been married, the sun had been rising by the time she'd found her bed and she'd been asleep before her head hit the pillow.
Klaus scoffs, expression hardening, "I'd assumed we'd just sleep, love. Or are you hinting that you have no need of me tonight?"
She's a bit ashamed in the face of his derision but somehow elated too. "As it happens, I sleep better with you beside me.
Klaus doesn't react with pleasure, his head shaking as he returns to his task, "Perhaps you should consider why that is," he mutters.
Caroline laughs but it's strangled, "I haven't done much else lately."
Klaus' eyes widen and Caroline savors that she's taken him off guard. She grabs the glass of champagne he'd brought her, taking a sip to soothe her nerves. Klaus slips between her and the railing, leaning back and using his fingertips to tip her chin up. "And have you come to any conclusions?" he asks, deceptively light given how hopeful he appears.
She tries a joke, "If you're truly only interested in my money now is the time to confess."
Klaus' eyes narrow, his hands coming up to frame her face, "I don't want your money.
Caroline knows that, of course. She wouldn't be standing here otherwise. She smiles, tremulous, resting her free hand on his chest. "You'll have my dowry, of course, that's only proper. But my monthly allowance…"
His mouth stems her words as he yanks her into him, their kiss a frantic clash. He groans when she invites him in, his tongue tasting hers eagerly. Caroline regrets that she'd bothered with gloves when her hand delves into his hair, tangling in the curls at the back of his neck.
She makes a noise of protest when Klaus pulls back, pushing her hips into his when he lays his mouth over her throat. His teeth scrape and a hint of suction leave her knees weakening, her hands grappling at his shoulders. It's a too brief sensation, Klaus setting her away from him after a moment. He kisses her cheek affectionately, "Your ring won't be ready until next week."
Caroline shakes her head, biting down on her lip before giving in and smiling, "Presumptuous," she accuses.
"I was going to tempt you with the passage I've booked to Italy," Klaus informs her, without even a hint of shame. "You'll love it and it just isn't seemly for a young, pretty widow to travel alone."
"So gallant," Caroline says, feigning exasperation. "Marrying me just to keep up appearances."
He moves quickly, walking forward until she's forced a few steps back, deeper into the shadows. Her champagne glass falls from her hand, forgotten. His gloves are cast aside. "Appearances," Klaus grumbles, fighting with the layers of her skirts, "can hang."
Later, when they dance amongst friends and acquaintances and gossips, her dress is crumpled and her hair's disheveled. Klaus' neck cloth is lopsided and neither of them tries to maintain a respectable distance between their bodies. Dozens of pairs of eyes stare at them shamelessly, whispers fill the room, giggles, but Caroline doesn't mind.
She'd wanted to be scandalous, hadn't she? With Klaus murmuring to her, listing the reasons - some of them very naughty - that he wants to marry her, causing a stir feels better than she'd imagined possible.