Page 36 of A Lady's Propitious Match
“Oh my.” Elliot stopped fighting for a moment to stare at Christopher. In that moment, Christopher felt like Elliot could see everything. Even the parts of him that he did not want to let out. “I see what is happening now. I can not believe that I missed it.” Elliot shook his head ever so slightly. “I should have seen this coming, but I was so involved with helping the plan work that I did not predict this.”
Christopher bristled. “What are you talking about?”
“You are falling for Clara in earnest. I can see it in your eyes. Perhaps you did not expect it either, but it has happened nonetheless.”
Elliot declared this as fact, without any need for question. Even as Christopher tried to brush off the suggestion, he would not let it drop.
“Christopher, it is fine. You know, I might not have seen this coming, but it actually makes a lot of sense. You do have a lot in common and you look wonderful together.” Elliot smiled widely. “I would support it, it you wished to pursue Clara legitimately.”
“You would?” Perhaps Christopher should not have asked this, but he could not help himself. The words seemed to simply fall out of his mouth.
“I would. You know, Clara is a wonderful woman, and I truly believe that she is worthy of real love. Love with a man who appreciates her free spirit and her creativity. Everything that her family has undervalued all this time. I can see that you do.”
“I can not believe you are saying this. It is very surprising to me that you feel this way.”
Elliot offered him a one shouldered shrug. “Well, I can not speak for my cousin. I do not know exactly how she is feeling herself. But I did recognise a special rapport between you at the party. If I had to make a guess, I would assume that she is feeling the same way about you. If there is something there, then I believe it is worth fighting for.”
“I can not deny that there is something intriguing about Clara,” Christopher admitted. “I am drawn to her because we share so much.”
Christopher ran a nervous hand through his hair as Elliot gleamed. “Then why not pursue it? I do not mean to suggest that you should cast off all prudence, but if there is a chance for genuine connection, would it not be worth exploring? Clara deserves to be seen for who she truly is, not just as a prop. A wife and mother to heirs, which is how I believe Lord Caldwell sees her. He has not shown any real interest in her, he is only concerned with her title. Just as her parents are only concerned with his title. It is a silly charade.”
Christopher nodded, a newfound determination settling within him. The fencing room, once a battle ground for frustration,became a space where a different kind of battle unfolded — one of self discovery and the possibility of genuine connection.
As they resumed their sparring, Christopher’s mind whirred with thoughts of Clara, and a flicker of hope ignited within him, challenging the boundaries he had set for himself. If Elliot was telling him that there might be something worth fighting for there, then who was he to disagree with that?
This was not the way that either of them thought their plan would end, but surely it would be a happy ending for both of them. They wanted to marry someone that they loved, not someone chosen for them. If that was one another, then why not?
As long as Clara did feel the same way about him of course, and if she could overcome his lowly status. She had not shown any concern with titles in the time that they had spent together, she seemed far more interested in him as a person, but only time would tell.
Well, time and the bravery that it would take him to finally ask her how she felt, of course. If he ever found that braveness…
***
The grandeur of the Belmont’s’ mansion greeted Christopher as he arrived later in the evening to collect Clara for their much anticipated theatre outing. The opulent facade stood as a testament to the family’s wealth and prestige, the front hall a magnificent prelude to the splendors within. Intimidating splendors, if Christopher was honest with himself.
The butler was awaiting his arrival, clearly expecting him, and invited him inside.
The imposing double doors swung open with a hushed elegance, revealing a vast front hall adorned with marble floors and intricately carved wooden paneling. A crystal chandelier hung from the lofty ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow over the space. Tall, arched windows decorated with sumptuous drapes allowed the soft moonlight to filter in, creating a play of shadows that danced across the walls.
Christopher, dressed in a well tailored suit that complemented the sophistication of the Belmont’s’ residence, waited cheerfully amidst this lavish setting. The rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock echoed through the hall, emphasizing the anticipation that hung in the air. A small table nearby boasted an arrangement of fresh flowers, their sweet fragrance mingling with the faint scent of polished wood.
He glanced at his pocket watch, noting that he was right on time. A sense of excitement and curiosity swirled within him. Christopher had grown accustomed to these moments of waiting, yet tonight felt different. The prospect of an evening at the theatre with Clara, unburdened by the weight of societal expectations, brought a genuine smile to his face.
But the grandeur of the Belmont’s’ mansion seemed to lose its luster as Christopher waited in the front hall for Clara. The air, once filled with anticipation, now crackled with an unspoken tension. The echo of footsteps on the marble floor signaled Clara’s approach, and Christopher turned, his heart quickening at the sight of her descending the ornate staircase.
Before the joy of their evening could fully bloom, the atmosphere darkened as Reginald Belmont, Clara’s formidable father, stepped forward instead of her, his countenance etched with a stern resolve. Christopher’s cheerfulness waned, replaced by a wary acknowledgment of the storm brewing in the eyes of the patriarch.
“Mr. Fitzhugh,” Lord Reginal Belmont’s voice boomed through the hall, cutting through the ambient sounds of their surroundings. “We need to have a conversation.”
Christopher swallowed hard, sensing the weight of Lord Belmont’s disapproval. He straightened his posture, meeting the older man’s gaze with a nod. “Of course, Lord Belmont. I am at your disposal.”
Lord Belmont wasted no time, his words a stinging rebuke. “You have no business courting my daughter, sir. I am sure you know that already, so I do not understand why you are here.” His cheeks shone red with rage. “Whatever notions you harbour are ill conceived and utterly unacceptable.”
“I would never wish to offend…” Christopher’s attempts at a composed response were met with an unyielding continuation, stripping the air out of his lungs. He was not expecting to be met with quite so much resistance.
“I will permit tonight’s outing for etiquette sake, but make no mistake, Mr. Fitzhugh,” Reginald declared, his voice carrying the weight of authority. “You are skating on thin ice. If you persist in pursuing my daughter beyond this evening, I will not hesitate to challenge you to a duel. I want you to understand quite how serious I am about this.”
The air hung heavy with the gravity of the threat, and Christopher felt the weight of the patriarch’s scrutiny. The man did not mention Lord Simon Caldwell, but Christopher could feel his presence clinging to the air. There was no way a duke to be would receive such an unwelcome greeting from Lord Belmont.
