The Viscount's Diva
He knew it from the moment he first saw her on the stage, he knew it was love. He had taken her to dinner that night, all shaking and stuttering, trying hard to please her. She had been unsure at first, but finally had relented to his charm.
They saw each other often after that, as he pulled her further away from the opera house and her duties there. He knew it must enrage the managers, but he was the patron, and there were other singers.
He looked at his beautiful diva sitting beside him in the plush carriage, a look of pure bliss on her face. Sadly, Raoul lamented how proper their relationship had been over its short course, as little physical contact as possible so society tongues would not wag. Entranced by the incredible eyes he adored, he threw caution to the wind bent his head to share with her their delicate first kiss.
To his surprised delight he felt her deepen the kiss and he responded in turn, their passion for one another swelling. When they finally broke from each other, he found himself staring at what looked to be the happiest woman on earth. Leaning against he whispered softly in her ear. "I love you, my dear Carlotta."