Kuroshitsuji: The Contract from Birth [Ciel Phantomhive]

[33] Her Butler, Whacked

It didn't take long for my uneasiness to settle and fade away, unlike Adelina's growing impatience which seemed to double as the minutes droned by. She hadn't stopped walking up and down the small street ever since the expected time for our carriage to arrive had come and gone, entertaining me as she every so often let out an unladylike sentence.

"Condesa, please, sit down," Salvador suggested, indicating to the small seat he had made from their luggage. "Do not stress."

As expected, Adelina gave a frustrated sigh and sat herself down beside me, arms and ankles crossed. Her eyes, however, continued flitting to the road.

"Does your family have a tendency to be late?" I asked her in hopes of livening her mood, only to receive a scowl.

"Do you have a tendency to always ruin someone's mood?" She retorted.

I bit my tongue. I could make her cry if she wanted to continue arguing, but I didn't have the nerve to watch her sob away again.

Twiddling her thumbs, Adelina pursed her lips and glanced my way.

"I apologize for the inconvenience."

Before I could respond to her obviously sincere apology, the sound of hooves clacking on pavement caught our attention and we looked up to see two rather large and elaborate carriages, each being pulled by four dark horses.

My eyebrow arched.

"Oh thank goodness, he's here," Adelina breathed out heavily, standing up from her spot and smoothing out her dress. "Ciel, let's greet my grandfather."

She outstretched her hand to me but I brushed it away, standing up on my own and leading the way to the first carriage.

I would depict myself here as I was in England; The unquestioned Earl of Phantomhive.

I favored it as such.

"Shall we start loading the luggage?" Rodric asked Adelina as we reached the main coach. She gave him a curt nod and quickly waved her hand, dismissing him.

It seemed as though she was rather eager to see her family. Or anxious, it was hard to tell with her at times.

Knocking lightly on the carriage door, she called out to him in a shockingly loud voice.

"Grandfather, it's Adelina, would you please let us in!"

There was a scuffle inside of the car and it jostled slightly from left to right until the door burst open, slamming onto the side of the coach without mercy.

"Amber! Darling, comment ça va?"1

"Amber?" I mumbled in question, only to receive a quick elbow to the side.

I groaned and doubled over.

An old man with a short, graying mustache and beard combination popped his head out from the inside, hat bumping into the doorframe as his hand extended out to Adelina.

She smiled awkwardly at him and held his hand as I slowly stood back up, eyes narrowed angrily at her.

"It's Adelina, Grandfather." Adelina reminded him gently, stepping into the carriage before turning to me. "This is my grandfather, George Russé."

I rolled my eyes at her but nevertheless stepped inside, taking note that since his surname was not DelMare, then he must be her late mother's father. And French, deducting from the name.

The smell that emitted from the old cushioned seats reminded me of gun powder, cigars and oddly enough, strong and bitter black coffee.

"And who might this young lad be?"