Behind Your Eyes

by Susannah Woods

  Now Alex was elated that Charles had talked him into this meeting. Maybe it was

  premature, but he really believed he could go through with it. Anne Stafford was beautiful and seemingly intelligent. It was evident she was concerned for her future from the conversation. Alex was hopeful the courting would go smoothly. If all went well, they could announce their engagement by the end of the month. First, he would have to do a little courting. Sending her flowers was his top priority. The kind that matched her beautiful, sensual eyes.

  ********

  Anne awoke to an unexpected flower delivery the next morning. Hot house orchids were sent by Redbridge with a very romantic note that read: They remind me of your eyes.

  It had never occurred to Anne that Redbridge would be that courteous. In her estimation, the courting was moot at this point. Puzzled as she was, she steeled herself so her heart wouldn't soften over a simple bouquet of flowers.

  Fighting the urge to smile, Anne walked slowly into the breakfast room, her heart racing of it's own accord.

  A smile played on her lips as she lathered butter on a roll, much as she tried to stifle it. Then she remembered she didn't even know her fiance and her brief fancy faded.

  Digging into her coddled eggs, Anne chose instead to decide on a subject for her next drawing. The best thing about London was that she had never been here before. The worst thing about London was that she had never been here before. There were so many new subjects to study, so much to see, Anne had no idea where to begin.

  Sophia and Charles entered the room just then arguing over Anne's dowry and spoiling her otherwise peaceful breakfast.

  “Aunt Sophia, if we give Alex any more, he will be the majority shareholder in the sugar mill. We need to retain control of that, at least.”

  “I do not care the cost, Charles, he is doing us a favor,” Sophia glanced sideways at Anne.

  “Alex will continue to court Anne without more money from us. He doesn't want us to make more promises. He will make his own decision,” Charles flopped down in the chair to Anne's right, the head of the table, after Sophia gracefully slipped into hers.

  Anne sat frozen, a fork full of eggs halfway to her mouth. Can't they discuss this in private?

  Sophia humphed as a servant filled her teacup, placing a small plate of dry toast in front of her.

  “What does he need to decide?” Sophia finally replied while lightly sugaring her tea.

  “He wants to be sure he and Anne are a suitable match.”

  “Suitable match? Anne is a rich, beautiful girl. He is a rich, titled lord. What is there more suitable than that?”

  Charles sighed impatiently, salted his eggs, then sipped his tea. Anne remained frozen. No one had spoken to her, even acknowledged her presence in the room. Her mother obviously felt that she had to bribe this man to take Anne for his wife and Charles was too engrossed in his friend's feelings to care about his cousin. When had she become invisible?

  Finding the whole arrangement despicable, Anne put her fork down softly, stood up, muttered an “excuse me” and left the room.

  *******

  That afternoon, Redbridge came to pick up Anne for their ride. His phaeton was quite stylish, his dress impeccable. Dark hair tousled at his forehead lent a casual air to his otherwise spotless attire. Not even his boots had so much as a smudge of mud. Noting he was just as handsome today as he had been yesterday, Anne's heart dropped then fluttered. Her brain stubbornly refused to allow that again and passed it off as appreciation for his masculine form.

  Redbridge kissed her hand dutifully and she remembered to thank him for the flowers.

  “I am glad you like them. I was unsure of your favorite but those are the most beautiful I could think of.”

  Remembering his card, a blush crept up Anne's cheeks and he smiled at her quiet acknowledgment of his compliment.

  The easy silence that settled over them while he drove to Hyde Park was pleasant and Anne was somewhat pleased that he seemed to be taking her feelings into consideration. At least he isn't superficial.

  He had asked her to call him Alex, given that he wasn't used to the title of Redbridge and still found in jarring whenever he was addressed as such. She didn't feel comfortable with that so he asked her to call him Montgomery, his given surname. She thought that too unkind. So it was back to Alex. This new informality was another blow to her determination to keep her distance. An air of cautiousness settled over them as he tried polite conversation about the weather.

  The trees whirred by as the horses picked up a faster rhythm. Anne tried to think of something to say but could think of nothing polite. Relaxing against the soft seat, Anne let her mind take in her surroundings, memorizing everything to draw later. The soft sway of the trees in the light breeze, the cotton clouds, the sun colored flowers. The elegant lady stepping down from her carriage to walk purposefully into the fashionable modiste's shop. The scholarly gentlemen animatedly debating world politics. The children wriggling impatiently in their seats, waiting for ices. All the sights, sounds, and colors of London washed over her and imprinted themselves on her heart.

  Hyde Park loomed close and Alex slowed the horses to a slow cant, eventually stopping and stepping out. He offered his hand to Anne and she tentatively accepted, afraid to touch him.

  “Would you care to walk about for a moment?” He asked politely.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  He reached up to her waist to assist her and the touch felt more intimate than it should have. They looked at each other, startled. So he felt it too?

  Anne cleared her throat and Alex moved away. Dying to ask him anything about this stupid arrangement, Anne refrained, instead inquiring about his sugar plantation. That was the only thing she knew about him and she surmised it was better than nothing.

  “There is not much more to say about it. I haven't been there in some months, however, I have left it in good hands, so I do not anticipate many problems.”

  “Mmmm,” Anne murmured, non-committal.

  “Tell me about yourself, Miss Stafford. Do you have any hobbies?”

  Startled, Anne stammered, “Y..yes. I like to draw.”

  Alex smiled at her and Anne thought she had never seen anything more beautiful.

  “And what do you like to draw?”

  “Everything,” she breathed, still caught off guard by her appreciation of his masculine form.

  They continued to walk a little, observing propriety, standing apart but walking in synch.

  “I'd like to draw you sometime,” she blurted. Horror crept up to her cheeks as she tried to gauge his reaction. He smiled and nodded.

  “I would be honored,” he said, still smiling broadly.

  Gazing into his eyes, Anne tried to determine why she felt drawn to him. It would be so much easier if he was a blackguard. But he's not, he is actually a gentleman. I guess. I really don't know him. Then why do I want to trust him?

  Anne pondered her dilemma as they continued to walk. Alex was charming in a quiet way and seemed genuinely interested in her. Of course, she argued with herself about his true nature and intentions.

  “When would you care to draw me?” Alex asked.

  “Soon,” she promised.

  “Would you care to join me on a picnic next week? You could draw me then.”

  Anne smiled and quickly accepted. Any chance to draw....Relief flooded her as she realized why she was so taken with him. The artist in her had recognized his aesthetic beauty and had wanted to preserve that on paper! More relaxed after that, Anne chatted about drawing to an enthralled Alex.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “I was betrothed to your brother's mother at a young age. I was never required to court her properly. But she meant a great deal to me.”

  The picnic was postponed due to rain, but Alex's attentions never wavered over the next few weeks. They attended the theater, shopped, and chatted about themselves. Anne felt very relaxed around him, finding him to possess an intelligence that s
urpassed mere education. Easily laughing at himself and situations around him gave Alex a casual air that Anne found appealing. He was so different from almost everyone else she had met. He was charming without being nauseating and relaxed without being indifferent. After three weeks in his company, she came to like him. This posed no problems for her. Initially, this revelation had irked her to no end, as she had been determined hate him. And as he began to unveil himself to her, she fought against the amicable feelings towards him. Then she reasoned it out. It was okay to like him. She had the control. She decided to like him. He was a friend. And friendship was as good as she could have ever hoped for.

  *******

  After weeks of this psuedo-courtship and no proposal, Sophia Stafford had reached her limit of patience. She came right to the point at breakfast the morning that Anne and Alex had finally scheduled for their picnic.

  “Anne, you must push the engagement with Redbridge.”

  Anne sputtered on the roll in her mouth and reached for her tea. Sophia ignored her daughter and kept talking.

  “It has been nearly a month and nothing. Has he some reason for his delay?”

  Not waiting for a reply, Sophia stood and began to walk restlessly about the breakfast room. Her daughter just sat there, hands in her lap, head down. And there is the problem. She will not be proactive.

  “Darling, you need to ensure this engagement. Quickly. Push him a little, but do not be obvious. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, mother,” this said meekly.

  “Do you really understand or are you trying to placate me?”

  The girl's mouth opened but shut without a response.

  “Flirt a little. Let him kiss you. You will never force a marriage by your cold indifference.”

  “Yes, mother,” understanding dawning in her blue eyes.

  Anne sighed as Sophia left the room. Appetite gone, she threw her napkin on the table. Flirt! Kiss! No way! But she would. She would because she was told to do it. And she didn't want to disappoint her mother.

  *********

  A missive arrived by personal courier that morning at Alex's Mayfair residence. Charles was quickly summoned and he and Alex spent the morning figuring out their next move.

  “He knows,” Charles finally said.

  “I bloody well know that!” Alex snapped, pacing restlessly, “He's got the evidence to convict Barnsley. That is why he needs to see me. I've got to go pack.” Alex stopped pacing to gather folders and other important paperwork from his desk.

  “I vow it didn't take him long,” Charles was impressed.

  “You know Chris. Working for His Majesty has its advantages,” Alex shrugged.

  “You are leaving tonight?”

  “I have to, Charles. I can finally avenge my brother's death. I have proof.”

  “What about Anne?”

  Exhaling impatiently, Alex crossed his arms then toyed with his chin with his left hand. “I cannot think about her now. I don't have time to finish courting her. Marry her to someone else.” The thought caught him low in the gut, surprising him.

  “Dammit, Alex, you promised,” Charles challenged.

  “I promised nothing. I said we would see. Well, I haven't seen enough.”

  “You are no gentleman.” Eyes flared, fists balled, the men mirrored each other. The tense air settled on them, creating enemies where friends had just conspired together.

  “I am a gentleman. I never promised I would take her for a wife. Is it not ungentlemanly to take advantage of a lady?”

  “You cannot court her and leave like this. Do you know what that would do to her?”

  Eyes now narrowed, Alex bit off a curse, knowing who was behind these hurtful words.

  “Mrs. Stafford? Are these her words or yours?”

  Looking away, Charles could not hide the shame from his face. And there it is. Finally, the truth.

  “Why is it so important that I marry your cousin?”

  Shrugging, Charles moved to a chair and sat down heavily.

  “I honestly do not know. I assure you there is no problem with my cousin, other than she is twenty and unmarried. My aunt is adamant that she marry you. She knows you have money, she knows you have a title. It helps that I know you so well. I have assured her of your moral character. I think all these things combined have planted the idea in her mind that you are the best match for her daughter.” Charles shrugged again and Alex felt uncomfortable for his friend.

  Guilt washed over Alex as he moved to the windows, then to the fireplace, then behind his desk again.

  “I will delay my trip for two days. I will take Anne on our picnic this afternoon and explain that I have to go away for a while, one years' time, probably longer. I will ask her if she wants to wait for me. If she will, then I will resume the courtship when I return to London. I cannot give her any promises. She is free to marry while I'm gone. Is this arrangement agreeable?”

  Nodding, Charles thanked his friend. His aunt was making his life hell with her constant harping. He intended to be on that ship with Alex. A year away from the woman's drama would be welcome.

  **********

  The sun shone brightly, warming the two bodies sitting primly on a blanket in the middle of the park. All of nature seemed to be enjoying this beautiful day and Anne and Alex were no exception.

  Attempting to keep still, dying of curiosity, Alex flicked his gaze sideways at his beautiful captor. Covertly studying her, he watched in fascination as her small tongue darted out in concentration. She is a beauty. A little wave of longing washed over him as he thought that he would have to be away from her for a long time. A sigh escaped his lips as he thought about all the time they would miss.

  “What? What is it?”

  “I was just thinking that I have to go away for a while. A long while, actually.”

  “Where?”

  “Home. My island, Colinas Verdes,” Alex shifted a little, uncomfortable.

  “How long?” Said casually, without even looking at him.

  “At least a year,” he replied, testing the waters.

  “That long? Sugar business?” Concentrating on her picture, she still would not look at him. He didn't know if it was because of disappointment or indifference.

  “Mostly business,” he evaded and shifted again, watching her eyes narrow on her picture.

  “Alright. Would you turn a little to the left? I think the sun....yes, that's good. The light is better,” she instructed, not missing a beat.

  Annoyed, Alex coughed.

  “I cannot make any promises, but if you wanted to wait for me, we could continue to court upon my return,” he tried.

  The birds twittered, horses' hooves clop-clopped, the trees moved with the breeze, but Anne didn't utter a word. Blinking at him finally, Alex took that as a sign she had heard him.

  “Are you saying 'no engagement'?”

  “No engagement,” he replied carefully, gauging her reaction.

  The silence stretched between them like a string, the words hanging carefully on the narrow edge.

  At first, the declaration was so welcome, Anne almost jumped up and cheered. No Engagement!! Then her mother intruded into her thoughts. She would not like this. No promise, no nothing. Just a “let's see how it goes”. Anne tread very carefully over her next words.

  “Ah, I thought that, uh, our marriage was arranged? That is, I thought we were to be married anyway. The actual proposal on your part was just a formality, yes?”

  Confusion appeared and disappeared quickly over his face.

  “Miss Stafford, what have you been told about our, ah, arrangement?”

  “That we were to be married. Period.”

  “Did Charles not tell you that I had not made that promise? That is, I promised to court you with the possibility of engagement?”

  Anne laughed, “I'm never told anything except what to do.” Sympathy crossed his face and Anne took comfort in her friend's concern.

  “Miss Stafford,” he said g
ently, “I am truly sorry, but I am not able to make that commitment right now.”

  “You must understand, Redbridge,” he flinched at her formality but said nothing, “I am not privy to these conversations. The only thing they ever do is argue in front of me about you.”

  “Argue? About what?”

  “Mother wants a quick engagement, an insurance that you won't run away. Charles tells her to let you make your decisions. They never ask me what I want. I never wanted this in the first place,” Anne let out a sigh then realized her misstep with horror.

  “That is...I...” Alex's laughter quelled her nerves.

  “Miss Stafford, I do enjoy your company. But I don't know yet if I want to marry you, I'm sorry.”

  Anne laughed, “I don't want to marry you either! I have come to enjoy your company as well, though.”

  The two burst into laughter, causing passerby to stare disapprovingly.

  Alex looked at Anne then and his breath caught. Her head tilted back, mid-laugh, she looked...ethereal? No. Angelic? No. Just completely adorable. A spasm caught him in the vicinity of his heart, but he ignored it. She wasn't so bad, this Miss Stafford.

  “Is love so important?” He asked, suddenly serious.

  “I...I don't know,” she reasoned, sobered.

  “What is it we really need to know about each other?”

  A puzzled look flitted across her face and she shrugged. That adorable look was back, beguiling him.

  Suddenly, Alex was overwhelmed with one thought. He needed to kiss her, to see if there might be more than a fleeting admiration for a pretty girl sitting in front of him. He could tell a lot from a kiss, always had. Unable to help himself at this moment, he softly ran his hand against hers. She dropped her sketch pad. Taking hold of her hand, he scooted closer to her. Then he brushed a kiss against her mouth. He did not stop at the brief display of affection. Instead, he did it again; a light touch of his lips against hers. A third time he did it then pulled back to look into her eyes.

  Anne was trembling. All over. One minute they agreed they weren't suited, the next he wanted to argue they were. With kisses. The kisses were pleasant, his warm breath feathering over her lips. She realized she was still tingling. Alex was staring at her and she didn't know what to say. She barely knew him and he had gone from future husband to suitor to friend to...what? This kiss had changed the game again and she couldn't keep up. When he had suggested that they knew each other well enough, she wanted to shout that they knew next to nothing. Nothing that mattered, anyway. She didn't know what his mood was first thing in the morning or what he enjoyed most for dinner. She didn't know if he preferred coffee or tea or something else. It is the little things that make a person who they are, and Anne knew nothing about what made him happy or angry or scared. This entire picnic had been improper and peculiar all at once.