Kit reclined in his chair, the whiskey glass on the edge of his desk teetering dangerously close to the edge, ready to fall at the slightest motion.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much to ponder over. Emily's words, although pleasing to hear, made him wonder whether or not he should give up, despite her telling him the exact opposite. Cassandra clearly did not want him, she'd proven that twice before.
And, yet, every time he thought of that kiss, of her lips pressed to his and and her slight frame in his arms, he knew he wanted exactly that for the rest of his life. If not her, then no one else.
He'd been debating for days as to what he should do, what was right. If she did not want him, he knew it was only fair to leave her alone but he was discovering a new, rather selfish side to himself that advised him to do the direct opposite. Once again, it was a matter of listening to either the little devil or the angel on his shoulder.
Finally, he sighed and reached forward to take a sip of his whiskey, but his clumsy self knocked the glass off the edge of the table, sending it falling downwards. Fortunately, as the floor of his study was entirely carpeted, it did not break but only spilled his best scotch onto the carpet.
He groaned, and leaned downwards to pick up the glass, but found it just out of the reach of the tips of his fingers. Finally, he decided to squat rather oddly on the floor just beyond his desk to retrieve the glass, just about to pick up the glass when, to his surprise, there was a knock on the door. He jumped slightly, and fell forward, his elbows landing on the ground and leaving him in an embarrassing position.
Before he could right himself, the door opened and Mr. Thornby entered, his eyes immediately widening as they landed on Kit's incredibly odd stance on the floor.
"Mr. Thornby, what is it?" He asked, scrambling to his feet and trying to hide his embarrassment. He failed very evidently as he attempted to put the glass back on the table but had it slip out of his grip and fall yet again. This time, he managed to get it without any of the acrobatics of before, but still blushed vividly.
"Ah," The aging butler began, his eyes staying on Kit for a few minutes before regaining his stoicism. "I came up here to inform you that there is a rather finely-dressed, anxious lady pacing about in the foyer sending the household into a tizzy for she seems to be too nervous to tell any of us her name. She came alone, too, and the carriage she arrived in drove off immediately after dropping her."
"I'll see her." Kit said, standing more upright. Perhaps she was the wives of one of his tenants who needed some help. He sobered up and put on the persona of a respectable Earl instead of clumsy Christopher. "Bring some tea to the parlour. Only one cup, I won't be drinking any."
"Of course, milord." Mr. Thornby said, bowing, but Kit was out the door before he could leave. Since the house was rather broad, it took Christopher a while to reach the foyer, where he was instantly greeted by the back of a blonde head as its owner rubbed her palms together anxiously. There was a troubling sensation in his stomach as it dawned on him that he recognised that back and those hands.
"Cassandra?" He asked, swallowing. She whirled around immediately, an unidentifiable look in her eyes as she did. "Is everything alright? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." She said, her voice coming out strangely high-pitched. "I'm alright. Are you free today? Might I speak to you now or shall I come back another day? Yes, I think I shall return some other time."
"Of course not." He said loudly, "Now, come into the parlour and tell me what has happened."
Cassandra nodded reluctantly, and Christopher placed a hand on the small of her back as he led her to the door that exited into a small parlour that was originally meant for the lady of the house to entertain her guests. They wouldn't be disturbed by anyone there.
Kit noticed the miniature crowd of footmen whose eyes were following the pair curiously. "Richard," he said, addressing the first one he saw, "Do ask Mr. Thornby not to disturb us."
Richard bowed and Kit escorted Cassandra into the room, closing the door behind him. Fortunately, the wood was heavy and thick and, if they didn't speak too loudly, prying ears would not be able to hear even a single word.
"Really, Cassandra, what is the matter? Something is clearly troubling you and you must tell me what it is." He said gently as she sat on the settee, wringing her hands together repeatedly.
"How can you be so kind to me?" She demanded suddenly, drawing his stunned surprise.
"What?" Kit asked, his eyes widening.
"After what I did to you," Cassandra explained, her breathing deepening, "How can you be as kind and as lovely as always when I've been such an absolute beast to you?"
"You haven't been a beast to me at all, Cass." Kit said, sitting beside her and putting a comforting arm around her, entirely ignoring how improper it was. It didn't matter, because she needed it. "You refused me because you didn't care for me in that way, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. You were not cruel about it, and I entered into the situation knowing that rejection was not only a possibility, but a probability. I do not blame you— how can I? If I truly love you, which I do, then how could I ever blame you for such a thing, for not feeling for me what I feel for you?"
"That's the thing!" She burst out, rising to her feet and pushing his arm off of her. "I do feel exactly that for you! I feel that and more, and I have been nothing but a fool and an idiot and a coward for refusing to acknowledge it, for refusing to act on it when it was something that both of us wanted. I realised this a few days ago but even then I couldn't find it in me to come to you even though I wanted to. It was only because of my brother that I gathered up the courage and came here. Even now, I am a nervous wreck who probably isn't making any sense at all."
"Cassandra." Kit said firmly as he stood, "What exactly is it that you feel for me? Tell me, for I need to know."
"I think you do know." She said, turning her face away. Even so, he came to stand before her, and delicately lifted her chin with his index finger so that her eyes met his. In them, he saw affection, apprehension and even reluctance but she relaxed instantly when he looked at her. He wanted to kiss her, badly, but knew he had to let her finish speaking for both their sakes.
"I think or, rather, I hope I do. But I want to hear you say it, I want to hear it emerge from your lips so that I can truly believe it. Besides, I think we both need to hear you say it yourself." He explained, letting his hand cup the side of her face. She tilted her head into his palm and her eyes fluttered shut momentarily before she sighed deeply and opened them again.
"Alright." She relented, "Christopher Fitzwilliam Weston, I love you."
He beamed, feeling as if all was right with the world and leaned into kiss her like he'd only been dreaming of these past few weeks. But, then, she began speaking again.
"I am madly, deeply, ardently in love with you and every little thing about you. I love your sweetness, your smile, your eyes, your gentleness, your clumsiness and your generosity. I love your silliness and the fact that you hate tea. I love that you're a protector, that you will go to any lengths to protect those you love and, by God, I hope to be one of those people someday."
"You already are." Kit breathed before, finally, kissing her.
It was everything he dreamt of, but five thousand times better. He let one hand remain on her cheek but his other hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her to him. There was no hesitation on her part this time, and she threw her arms around his neck, both of them playing with his hair.
He kissed her deeply, and she reciprocated in kind. Their lips melded in a perfect symphony as they moved together in a kiss that he knew he'd remember for the rest of his life. He kissed her one, two, three times until, finally, she gasped and he knew he had to pull away so that both of them could breathe.
When he did pull back, he rested his forehead against hers, so close that their noses touched. Both of them were breathing deeply, and both of them were wearing wide, wide smiles. Kit didn't think he'd ever been happier than now, in this moment.
He didn't move far, and his hand was still on her cheek, his arm still around her waist. She let her hands stall on his shoulders, holding him to her. He ran his thumb along her cheekbone and sent a visible shiver up her spine, which only made him grin wider while she giggled. That was the loveliest thing he'd ever heard.
"That was the most dramatic declaration of love history has ever seen, I should think." Kit remarked suddenly, causing her to blush deeply before smacking his chest. He caught the hand she'd used before it retreated and he pressed a kiss to the back of it.
"Shut up." She grumbled, but he knew she didn't mean it. Her fake indignation made him laugh, and it was the purest, most real laugh he'd laughed in years.
"I'm so sorry." She said suddenly, and he froze, cupping her face with both hands.
"What on Earth could you be sorry for now? Please don't tell me you're about to refuse me once again." He pleaded jokingly, but a real fear had begun to settle in his heart.
"I'm sorry for ever refusing you in the first place. I shouldn't have. It was cowardly and out of fear and you should hate me, but you're too lovely to hate me. I think you're the best man I've ever met."
"I'm far from a saint, Cass, but thank you." Kit said, chuckling lowly. "I know you are scared of us ending up like your parents but, I promise you, I shall die before I let anything like that ever happen to us. You must believe me when I say that."
Cassandra shook her head, and his fear deepened before alleviating when she spoke again, "I don't think that will ever happen, not any more. I should have had more faith in you and in myself. But, now, I vow to always trust you."
"Are there any more vows you'd like to make?" He asked teasingly, and her eyes widened as she realised just what he meant.
He descended to the floor, holding her hands between his as he knelt on one knee. "Cassandra Whitlock, will you make me impossibly than you have today by becoming my wife?" He asked.
She did not respond at all for a few seconds, her hands raised to her open mouth in shock, so he added, "Love, will you marry me?"
"I— of course!" She exclaimed, not waiting for him to rise to his feet and collapsing on the floor herself, throwing her arms around his neck as she kissed his cheek repeatedly.
"I love you." He breathed finally, and the kiss he then received from her was all the reply he ever needed.
"Wait!" She said suddenly, pushing his face away from hers and standing to her feet immediately. "There's one more problem left to solve."
"What is it?" Kit asked, dreading the worst.
"Nate."