"Hold me close so I can finally... breathe"
Marriage wasn't something Carina Bridgerton looked forward to. And true love was not something she dreamed of. She had declared it very clearly to her family that no marriage shall ever be expected from he...
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There will forever be just two words that come to this author's mind the morning after any good party, "shock" and "delight." Well, dear reader, the scandalous accounts from last night's soiree at Vauxhall are quite shocking and delightful indeed. Emerging, phoenix-like from the ashes of irrelevance, is one Miss Carina Bridgerton. The illustrious debutante was seen dancing not once, but twice with the season's most eligible and most uncatchable rake, the Duke of Hastings.
Carina was in the garden to promenade, with the Duke, as they had planned last night. Walking with him arm in arm, she thought over of all the requirements and spoke up, "Eight balls." "No.", is his swift reply.
"Eight balls. You do want our plan to succeed, do you not, Your Grace?" she questions him, she could honestly care less about the balls she attends or number of suitors she attracts, but the chance to have a playful banter, try to irritate the Duke is far more interesting and too valuable to give up.
"The purpose of this arrangement is to keep the marriage-minded mothers of the ton at bay, not hurl myself directly into the lion's den.", he says. Ah, walked right into that one. This might be a chance to acquire a victory in her name, settle the score for the defeat at the family dinner. "The purpose of this arrangement is to ensure I marry a worthy man, Your Grace!" "I shall grant you four.", this might seem a really generous offer to some, but Carina knows better than that, there is still place for negotiation. "Six balls."
"Five." he counters. "Six. And you must send flowers. Today. Expensive ones. If you were truly courting me, you'd buy out every florist in town. My favourite are blue roses." she mocks, not expecting him to send any flowers at all.
Suddenly he halts in his walking and turns to face her, staring into her eyes with those brown ones she oh-so hates of his, he comments, "If I were truly courting you, I would not need flowers, only five minutes alone with you in a drawing room." Now, it seems Carina was the one left bothered. By that glimmer of desire in his eyes and the close proximity of their faces. Suddenly, as if coming to his senses, he turns to the front and begins walking again, "I did not mean..." Away from his eyes, Carina lets out a breath she never even realised she was holding.
"Six balls, Your Grace." she says, with conviction. "Very well.", still flustered about his sudden outburst, he instantly agrees. Carina smiles, a win. "Though I shall see about the flowers.", a small win but a win nonetheless. "And you must remember, no one can know about our little arrangement. Nor about what happened last night with Lord Berbrooke." she says, her voice void of all happiness and joy.
"Ah, yes. How is your hand this morning? You must know you did nothing wrong." says Simon, thoroughly entertained by the thought of her punching someone, especially someone like Berbrooke. "What I know is that even the rumor of my being alone with a man, let alone punching him, will ruin me. Also, my hand is perfect, Your Grace, you need not worry. Though my knuckles might remain bruised for quite a while." she replies.
