Debutante's Daydream

Chapter Nine

        John hadn't meant to say the words. It was a running theme happening around the young Marchioness. Carolyn's story, made his heart ache for her. Some part of him resonated with the lonliness she felt. A part of him wished that his family would understand his trouble around people, that events made his heart race and his gut churn. That even with his family he found it hard to relax. 

        It was easy with the debutante. She spoke to him as though she'd known him her whole life and that made him feel... at ease. He enjoyed being in her presence, she radiated light and he wanted to be in that light, the cause of it. She was different in a way he never thought a woman would be. 

        Carolyn was silent in his arms and he closed his eyes against the backlash that was sure to come. The polite dismissal of his feelings, that would be the end, he would never see her again. Who had he been to think someone of her rank would return his feelings? He was lucky she even gave him the time of day. Gingerly, she had pulled slightly away, but still within the circle of his arms and she reached a delicate hand out to brush against the hallow of his throat, prompting him to gulp. 

        Those amber eyes flicked to his, disarming him with their sweet intensity. "May I see the painting?" She asked. 

        He was confused. 

        John wasn't sure if it was better or worse than her coming out and rejecting him. If it was better to not know the young girls feelings. Mayhaps, she didn't know her feelings. The night before had been her debut ball. "Ah, I am not quite finished yet." He pulled his arms away from her, awkwardly, unsure how to proceed with her. With caution seemed like a good place to start. That's how he should have handled her all along. Perhaps he wouldn't be here now if he had proceeded with caution. 

        He got up to put the finishing touches on the painting. It was hard to focus with her enchanting eyes on him the whole time. He swallowed hard, putting his signature on the bottom and checked it thrice, to check for any mistakes, and to give him time before he had to show her. He wasn't usually so swift at his work, but this time he had a fascinating new subject and he had painted with all the vigor he possessed. 

        When he finally set down his pallet and brush, he stepped around the easel and offered her his hand. She took it with a smile that made his heart leap, her hand soft in his. Carolyn stood rooted to her place as she looked at him, he eyes soft with emotion he was too scared to analyze. "I enjoy watching you paint. When you focus you get a cute little wrinkle here." She brushed the pad of her thumb between his brows. "And when you're caught up in something your lips..." She trailed off, her fingers featherlite danced across the outline of his mouth, his breath a soft puff against her palm. 

        He stood frozen, torn between wanting to yank her closer and ravish her and pulling away and never seeing her again. It was a delicate precipice they were on. One thing could tip it too far and there would be ruin. Nothing good would come out of an incident between the two of them. 

        Finally, he pulled away and guided her to the easel, holding his breath as he tugged her around the canvas, so she could see the painting. Her breath caught at the sight of it. 

        John loved to paint scenery, to capture movement. But this time it was wholly different. The lake and trees behind her had been a blur, only painted to where one could tell what they were but distorted to show the beautiful angel before it. 

        In this painting he captured emotion. Not just in her face, no. He caught the feeling that had been in the air, that still lingered between them. He caught the slight melancholy of her disposition, he caught the blush rising on her pale skin, kissing her skin in a way he desired to. And he caught the charged energy in the way she'd looked up at him. It had been a fleeting moment as she had tucked her hair behind her ear, one moment where he could feel his desired echoed in her. 

        His angel pressed a fluttering hand to her lips and her eyes started to water. His? She wasn't his. Oh but how he wished she were. The things he craved to experience with her.

        Would she find his lack of experience a flaw? Or would she find it endearing? Would she rather have an experienced man teach her the joys between a man and woman? Or would she like to explore with someone as equally green? To fumble and laugh at their mistakes and find their rhythm together? 

        She turned to him and wrapped herself into his embrace, her face tucked against his bare neck. "It's absolutely wonderful, John."

        The hairs on his body stood on edge, his skin hyperaware of her soft body pressed against his. He caressed her back, fingers twining in the ends of her hair. For a long moment they just stood in each other's arms and his stomach began to sink. He knew that although he wanted this, that maybe even she wanted this, it couldn't happen. 

        Carolyn needed a husband with personable skills, to be able to hold a conversation with peers about politics and finances and the stocks. He wasn't that man. She was a wealthy woman and wealthy women needed suitable men. So with a final squeeze he pulled away and rubbed his neck. Her expression fell, twisting his already churning gut. She knew. It hurt to know that with one look at his face she knew. 

        They returned to the carriage and he told his footman to stay behind to pack up his painting and supplies. Once he shut the door, he looked at Carolyn to see her eyes swollen with tears. Tears he put there. 

        "Carolyn..." 

        She interrupted him. "Why?" Her voice was small and hoarse, emotion tightening her throat. 

        "You need things that I can't give you," he explained.

        She raised a brow. "What have I asked for that you cannot give me?" 

        "It's not what you have asked for, it's what you will ask for. What you will need in a husband." 

        She scoffed and crossed her arms. He decided he didn't like seeing her this way. Didn't like seeing her guarded and hurt. She had walls, he learned. Walls that she apparently hadn't needed while with him. But he could see each brick form, each one a nail in his coffin. "So you can tell the future now? Say, Lord John, I didn't know you were a fortune teller." 

        Despite her best efforts, the tears fell down her stony face, lovely and cold. Closed off. He thought of how she thought she wasn't enough to keep her aunt here. Little did she know she was enough. It was him. "It's not you.."

        Carolyn laughed bitterly. "We are going that route are we?" She swiped angrily at the tears staining her face. "Do you not think me capable of deciding what sort of man I want? What I will ask of him? What of partnership? Do you not think I would heed your concerns, whatever they may be? You think me cruel? To force you into situations that would upset you?" 

        He shook his head. "It's not that simple. Carolyn, we've only just met. You will find..." 

        Instead of listening to him, she banged her fist against the roof of the carriage, bringing them to a halt, and stepped out of the carriage, a light rain started to drizzle. "If that's how you feel, I apologize for wasting your time." 

        Before he could protest, she slammed the door and stalked away. He hopped out after her, but she had hiked her dress and was already turning around a corner into a busy street. 

        The rain pelted his face, soaking him within moments and he felt regret fester within his chest. 

        Had he done the right thing? He didn't think her unkind, he wanted to save her from the embarrassment of having a silent husband. 

        As he reentered the carriage, he found himself questioning his choice. 

        Would it be too late to beg forgiveness?