by Mary Davis
“Miss Thompson, there is nothing simple about you.”
She fitted her hand in his, and he led her to the edge of the other dancing pairs.
He placed her left hand on his right shoulder and then took her right hand in his left while hooking his other arm around her waist. He held her more than the prescribed distance away from himself so that her father might not object. Though tempted, he refused to look at the man in case he wore a disapproving glare.
“See how we form a box with our bodies?”
Rachel glanced from their arms on one side to the ones on the other and nodded.
“Now keep your carriage straight.” He pushed on her right hand, and her elbow bent. “Keep your elbow stiff so that when I move, you move with me.”
“I can do that.”
“You will start with your right foot. Take a step back.” He took a step forward at the same time. He was pleased that she remembered to keep her body stiff. “That was one. Now your left foot goes back and out. Two. Bring your right foot next to your left. Three. We are going to do the same thing except I will go back and you will move forward for a three count.” He counted aloud as he moved her for the next three count. “We’ve made a box with our steps. And that is it. Again.”
Rachel repeated the moves without much difficulty. “I did it.”
“I knew you could. Listen to the music. One, two, three. One, two, three. Ready?”
“I think so.”
“One, two, three.” And he began moving her in the box step.
After several completed boxes, she looked up. “I’m doing it.”
Once she was comfortable with the steps, he said, “Now we’re going to turn as we waltz.”
Her eyes widened in concern. But she let him lead, and they swirled around the room.
“This is actually easier than the stiff box.”
He noticed that the string quartet was transitioning from one waltz to another, allowing him to keep dancing with Rachel without stopping in between pieces.
“I can’t believe I’m here dancing with you in front of everyone. Including your father.”
“I can’t believe Papa is here in English Camp...willingly.”
“I think I even saw him smile once.”
“Papa? You must be mistaken.”
They both laughed, and Charles twirled her around the floor.
“I wish we were alone here.”
“Why?”
“I want to kiss you.”
Her feet stopped.
He had to do a double step not to land on her feet. He chuckled. “You stopped dancing.” She recovered, and he began leading again.
After an hour at the party, Charles grew nervous when Mr. and Mrs. Thompson aimed for them. He turned to Rachel. “I’ve had a most enjoyable time with you.”
“I don’t understand. The party isn’t over.”
“I think it is for us. Your parents are on their way here.”
She turned to see them. “Maybe I can talk them into letting me stay.”
Before Rachel could ask, Genevieve took her arm. “Come with me, dear.” And Rachel was led away from him.
Charles was a bit nervous under Mr. Thompson’s scrutiny but figured the man had something to say to him without Rachel. He braced himself.
Mr. Thompson spoke. “Where do you stand with God?”
“Excuse me, sir?”
“‘He that is not with me is against me.’ Saint Matthew chapter twelve, verse thirty. Are you with or against God?”
Now he understood. If this man was even going to consider Charles for his daughter, he wanted to know Charles was a Christian. “With, sir. Always with.”
Mr. Thompson narrowed his eyes. “What are your intentions toward my daughter?” His question was spoken like an interrogation from his superior.
Charles resisted the urge to squirm. “I love Rachel.”
Mr. Thompson seemed more impatient with Charles’s answer than upset. “That much is obvious. But what are your intentions?”
It was time to lay it all out. Charles filled his lungs. “I intend to prove to you—if you’ll permit me—that I am an honorable and trustworthy man, so that one day, when I ask for her hand, you will at least consider me.” He had spoken without a breath, so he gulped down air. Well, he’d said it. Mr. Thompson probably wouldn’t let him anywhere near his daughter again. But he didn’t regret his words. However, he was uncomfortable with the way the older man studied him, like cornered prey.
Finally, Rachel’s father spoke. “One day? And how far into the future do you think that will be?”
How was he to know how long it would take this man to accept him? If ever. He could imagine him making Charles do all sorts of difficult things that he hoped Charles would fail at. “I suppose that will be up to you, sir. Tell me what I must do to prove to you that I am an honorable man worthy of your daughter.” He had to give the man credit. He at least appeared to be giving it some consideration.
“I suppose if you were to go out in a vicious storm and risk your life climbing down a cliff to save my son, I couldn’t ask for much better proof than that.”
A stillness captured Charles. He dared not even breathe. Finally he asked, “Are you saying that ‘one day’ is today? That I have your blessing to propose to Rachel?”
Mr. Thompson nodded. “But I wouldn’t wait too long. My daughter can be quite impatient.”
“Sir, thank you, sir. You won’t regret this, sir.”
Mr. Thompson’s mouth twitched up on one side. “Oh, I’m sure I will a few times in the years to come. But you make my Rachel happy. Next to knowing her place in the Kingdom of Heaven is secure, her happiness is most important to me.” After a pause, he continued, “Please don’t take her away from here for too long. I couldn’t bear it.”
Charles pictured Rachel in his social circles back in England. The ladies, if he could call them that, would all hate her for her natural charm and beauty. She was a refreshing contrast. They would try to change her to be more like them. There was nothing wrong with Rachel that needed to be changed.
And the men? They would be like wolves, circling, vying for her attention. Spoken for or not.
England held little appeal for him anymore.
* * *
Rachel couldn’t bear not knowing what Papa was saying. Probably telling Charles to stay away from her. She would have rushed right over and pleaded Charles’s case if Genevieve hadn’t held her arm firmly, keeping her in place.
Then Charles spoke briefly to his brother and dashed out as though a pack of rabid dogs was after him.
She didn’t like that at all and hurried to Papa. “What did you say to him?”
“Men’s talk. When it concerns you, you will be informed.”
Where Charles was involved, it did concern her. “Will he return to the party?”
“I’m sure he will.” Papa had a mischievous glint in his eyes.
She went to the window near the door Charles had escaped through and peered out.
Genevieve came up beside her. “Staring out the window after a man is unbecoming a lady.” She took Rachel’s arm. “Come away from there.”
She hated waiting. Fortunately, she didn’t have long to wait.
Returning, Charles came straight toward her, took her hand and led her to the middle of the room, which fell silent. He held out a blue-gemmed ring and lowered to one knee, gazing up at her. “Rachel Thompson, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
She clasped her hands to her chest and smiled. “I would have to ask Papa.”
“I already have. He gave us his blessing.”
She turned to Papa for confirmation. When he nodded, she told Charles, “Yes, yes, yes, I’ll be your wife.”
&nb
sp; Everyone cheered.
He slipped the ring on her finger and stood. “This was given to my mother on her eighteenth birthday. I’m the fourth son, and my brothers received the larger jewels for their wives.”
“It’s beautiful. More than I could have hoped for.” She had never had anything so fine.
When he leaned closer, she could tell he meant to kiss her. She put a hand on his chest. A kiss wouldn’t be appropriate in public.
Charles pointed up.
Above her head hung mistletoe. She smiled and lowered her hand.
He pressed his lips to hers in a gentle lingering kiss, sweeter than any of the stolen ones they had shared in their clandestine rendezvous. This was the first kiss celebrating their future together.
The room erupted in applause.
Rachel didn’t care that everyone was watching. She could stay here forever in her Romeo’s embrace.
Real life romance was so much better than any of her books.
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781460344248
Her Honorable Enemy
Copyright © 2014 by Mary Davis
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