The Butler

Chapter 4

IV.

Christine did not see Damien alone until her cousin and his friends had departed for Town, three days later. It had been exhausting, fielding all these would-be swains, and she was frustrated because she could not speak with Damien.

After the first night, all her attempts to see to her own pleasure had ended in failure. It was as if her body had become attuned to Damien's touch, and she worried that she would never find pleasure from anything else now.

"More tea, darling?" Her mother offered, as they sat in the morning room, reading the latest novels from London.

"I have had four cups, thank you." Christine was ready to scream with frustration.

"I wasn't asking how many you've had, my dear. I was asking if you wanted more," Mama tittered, draining her own cup.

"I... I shall take a walk." She rose to her feet, picking up her book. If she had to stay another moment cooped up, she was going to scream.

"Take a shawl with you. It is getting cold. In fact, make sure Damien escorts you," her mother called after her. "It isn't safe by yourself."

Damien met her at the doorway just in time to hear her mother's words. Her gaze crashed into his, and her heart began to race. "Do you wish to go somewhere, my lady?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"I was going to take a walk to the lake," Christine announced. "As you have been too busy these past few days, I was going to go by myself."

"I shall accompany you, my lady," Damien stated, scowling. "Madam is correct. It is not safe for you to go by yourself."

She had to fight the urge to stamp her foot like a child, though part of her was overjoyed to see him insisting that he would spend time with her. She was still upset that he had not visited her or seen her alone since the night under the stairs. "Do not let me keep you from your duties, Damien."

"You are my duty, my lady," he replied serenely.

"Let him go with you, darling," Mama called. "It is getting late, and I don't want you falling or getting hurt or what not."

With a tight smile, he bowed. Christine sailed past him, her nose in the air, and she could have sworn she heard him chuckle.

He caught up to her easily with his long legs, somewhere between the morning room door and the back entrance to the gardens.  He managed to drop to an acceptable two steps behind her, clutching a shawl and a blanket for her. The maids curtsied to them, like they always did, and it irritated Christine further.

She did not speak for a while. She was still upset. Even at this proximity, she could feel the mad awareness of every move he made, and she did not like how he affected her. The garden was familiar to her, as it was the place they had played hide-and-seek as children. Then there was the hedge maze, but she and Damien had cracked the secret path years ago.

No, to walk off her mood, she was headed to the gazebo on the lake. This was the place she had met with Damien the night before he had gone off to fight in the war. She had taken it for her own place, and the daily walks back and forth to the lake had improved her constitution.

They walked in silence for the better part of an hour, until the woods opened into a path leading to the wooden bridge to the gazebo. Once she arrived at the structure in the centre of the man-made lake, she stopped.

It had been cleaned, and lanterns hung from the eaves. A comfortable couch and daybed had been laid out in the middle, perfect for her afternoon reading. Gauze shades hung from the sides, as well, to protect from the sun or insects, and giving them privacy. She whirled around, stunned. "Did you do this?" she asked him.