Pas De Deux

Part 14

The weather called for a promenade. They were strolling, arm in arm, along the streets of the Scottish city. She still had a few hours ahead before going to the theatre for rehearsal. Obviously, plans for the evening had already been made: it had been arranged that the Earl would attend the performance and they would head back home soon after.

Natasha quite liked the mansion and had agreed to take residency there during the betrothal period and beyond, after they were officially wedded.

Mrs. McIntyre had taken the matter in her own hands and swiftly ensured the unexpected late-evening visitor occupied the guest room on the other side of the house, (before an unwanted compromising situation would come out of a prolonged tryst between the betrothed couple) until better arrangements were made. The next morning, she had personally engaged to accommodate her private chamber fully within a couple of days.

They explored the city without a care in the world and a smitten smile plastered across both their faces, followed by Mary and another chaperone chosen by the Housekeeper as a last-minute addition, trailing a few steps behind. Natasha made sure to show him her favourite places, both in the Old and New Town areas. They caught up on lost time effortlessly, picking up on unfinished conversations, and new ones, in a most seamless manner. He reveled in her congenial companionship and the jolly feeling of having found his friend back.

They walked down the main shopping street and she pointed to some of her favourite businesses and traders, including a stationer, a perfumer, and a florist — where he stopped to buy a jasmine flower that he pinned into his front pocket, left vacant for a few days as he travelled from London —, a glover and the only tea dealer in town. After a while, they stopped at a food stall and his gaze wandered across the shop windows until one caught his attention whilst she was collecting her small cornet of peanuts, wrapped in newspaper, and paying. When she turned around to offer him some, she found he had gone but only for a few seconds, after which he returned saying he had been drawn to the sight of a peculiar variety of leaves at the tobacconist's.

They resumed their promenade, eating peanuts, strolled into the local park, and slowly made their way back to Princes Street. Steve had fallen silent for the past few minutes with a pensive expression stamped on his feet.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, playfully nudging him.

He smiled. "Oddly enough, at your father," he answered and she cocked her eyebrow in the most adorable way. "I was gauging how much time I have left before this unofficial betrothal provokes his wrath."

"An understandable cause for concern," she teased with a smirk. "Yelena wrote that Andrew still gets the occasional glare when he calls on in the house. I suspect Papa has engaged in a nerve-racking game the poor lad has no clue about."

He scoffed quietly as he found it funny that he might find himself in the same situation his father was in three decades before him. He paused to look at her.

"Beyond the reasonably fearsome mind games of your father," he continued, "I'd rather not lose any more time. There is no reason for our betrothal to linger on. I, for one, should like to marry as soon as the preparations allow."

She looked both surprised and flattered.

"In London, I suppose?" she asked.

He answered with a nod. "It's where our families are. And we would return to Edinburgh soon after."

She folded her arms with a pout. "No honeymooning?"

"I was hoping you would say that," he answered softly with a smug smile, internally rejoicing. "We can go anywhere you want, for however long you want."