and i won't let go of you... ((aubrey))

[MercyAnne Fairchild]

The evening she'd spent dancing with Hart had been magical, to say the least. There had been an expression in his face that was something more than friendship, or at least...that was what her interpretation had been. She'd found herself completely distracted by thoughts of him ever since. Some of these were very pleasant - remembering the events of that evening, and dreaming up nice things that would happen the next time they met.

More often, however, she could only enjoy these silly daydreams for a few moments, as pangs of anxiety struck her. What if these feelings were one sided? Yes, she'd been sure, at the time, that he'd looked at her differently. But as each day passed she grew less and less certain. It was very likely wishful thinking - that was the most practical and sensible conclusion. What would the Earl of Devoreaux see in a dull country bumpkin like herself, anyway?

So that morning she'd decided, very firmly, to put Aubrey Hartwell out of her head, at least for a little while. She'd eaten her breakfast, played with her son, and when he went for a walk with his nurse tried to occupy herself with a book. She thought she was making progress. Just as she felt she could congratulate herself on going a full half hour without thinking of the earl, however, all her work was undone as a servant entered the room and announced that the very person she was trying so hard not to think about was actually there.

The widow jumped like a startled fawn, her heart giving a great lurch. Oh, heavens! She gave up. She could no more stop herself from thinking of him than she could stop breathing. This was what happened when one was in love, and she might as well accept it. She put a hand up, smoothing down her blond curls, as she told the servant to show the man in, glad that she had decided to wear her pretty new day dress with the blue ribbon. At least she did not look a complete fright!

[Aubrey Hartwell]

Aubrey had had quite a lot to think about over the past few days. The first was, of course, his rapidly changing feelings toward a certain Mrs. Fairchild. After spending the evening dancing with her at the Crown a few nights previous, Hart had been unable to get her soft smile and blue eyes out of his head. He was simply thankful that Cecily was too caught up in the production of the Shakespeare play to pay attention to him.

The second thing he had thought about was the interesting news that Lorry had finally proposed to Miss Benoit. And she had accepted. After paying his friend a visit two nights ago, the Lieutenant had spilled all. Devoreaux had been surprised, but very impressed that his friend had finally plucked up the courage to propose. And without knowing for sure that his feelings were returned! That news had given him a lot to think about.

Finally, the earl could stand it no longer. He resolved to pay a visit to the widow in hopes that he would find her alone. Of course, he would not mind if little Anthony was present-- he genuinely loved the boy. And one could never rush into things such as courtship and marriage. But if MercyAnne's son was not present, well, he could not promise that he would not rush into anything.

It was with a bit of nervousness that Aubrey mounted his horse and set off for the Fairchild residence. It was thankfully not a long ride; the weather had turned cool all of a sudden and riding could not much longer be comfortable without his greatcoat. Arriving at the estate, he removed his hat as he gave the servant his calling card. He was shortly seen into the parlor where he was greeted with the beautiful sight of MercyAnne. And alone.

With a polite bow out of the way, Hart glanced about to make sure that Anthony was not present. Assured that they were quite alone, he crossed the room to her quickly. "I hope that you have been well," he inquired, searching her face for any sign of what he had seen the night they had danced. "I confess that I wished to come earlier, but I could not get away from Leighton."

[MercyAnne Fairchild]

Mercy rose to her feet as the earl entered the room, and was completely unable to help the bright, beaming smile and slight flush that overtook her face at the sight of him. He was most certainly the most handsome man in Middleton. She curtsied to him, and when he stepped forward held her hands out to him involuntarily. Her hands just wanted to be held, you see.

"Oh yes, I am quite well," she assured him, unable to keep from laughing. There was nothing particularly hilarious about the situation, it was just that her delight had to bubble over somehow, and it chose laughter as its outlet. She probably sounded like a simpleton, laughing at nothing, but it could not be helped.

He'd wanted to come sooner? The widow's blush deepened, her heartbeat quickened, and her smile grew wider. "What a pity that you could not!" She told him, glancing shyly up at him then back down to the floor. "We...I," Mercy corrected herself, blushing even deeper at the admission, "I would have liked very much to have seen you. I hope it was nothing unpleasant that has kept you at Leighton!"

[Aubrey Hartwell]

Aubrey thought the slight flush upon the widow's face very becoming. Her bright smile, which was all for him, even more so. He blinked in surprise when she held her hands out to him and he took them in his own. They were so small and feminine and impossibly soft. Impulsively, he raised her hands to his lips and brushed them with a kiss. Somehow the gesture did not seem improper, although it was typically something the Lord would have frowned heavily upon.

Hart released her hands and stepped away from her suddenly. He crossed the room to the window and briefly looked out, unseeingly, before walking over to a chair and placing his hands on its back. His face was thoughtful as he peered at the floor; he was obviously weighing a decision very carefully... and his words even more carefully. Finally, he looked at Mrs. Fairchild. "No, nothing unpleasant... far from it, actually. However, I do not really know where to begin."

Her statement that she would have liked to see him gave him a little courage and he cleared his throat. "I have come to the realization," he paused, seeking the best words with which to communicate and finding that they were eluding him. "I have come to the realization that I should very much like to see you more." There. He had said it. He scrutinized the lady's reaction, hoping it would be favorable. He dropped his hands from the chair and stood a little awkwardly.

"I know what you and your late husband shared was very special and I would never wish to take his place. But..." Words failed him. There was so much more he could say: that he was falling more in love with her every moment; that he was willing to wait if she could not accept his suit at this time; that he would not expect her to love him as she had loved Fairchild. But none of it made it past his lips. All he could do was stare at the woman he loved with hope that she would receive him.

[MercyAnne Fairchild]

Her hands just...they just fit inside Aubrey's. It was like they belonged there. Hart brought her hands to his lips, which made the skin there quite tingly, as if a little jolt of lightning had struck her in just that spot. It was not an unpleasant feeling.

You may imagine her surprise, then, when he dropped her hands and stepped suddenly away. MercyAnne's face turned red and she bit her lip. Had she been too forward? She hadn't even meant to hold her hands out to him. Oh, dear. But then - he was the one who had kissed them. No, that could not have been it. Then what? He claimed that it was nothing unpleasant that had kept him at Leighton, but he looked so very grave!

It became obvious that he had something important to say. MercyAnne wasn't quite certain what to do about it, but found herself wishing that she could alleviate whatever was weighing so heavily on his mind. She did not like to see those that she loved looking so troubled. She wanted very much to make it better somehow, but could not think of what she might do that would accomplish this. Instead, she settled for standing there, anxiously wringing her handkerchief in her hands.

"I have come to the realization that I should very much like to see you more." He said at last, and whatever Mercy had been preparing herself to hear, this had not been it. The widow relaxed, unable to help from smiling quite happily at this. Well who didn't like to hear that a handsome gentleman, who one also happened to be head over heels in love with, wished to see them more often?

"I'm sure you know - and if you don't by now you're an absolute ninny," she teased, "that you are welcome here whenever you like and as often as you would like to come. Anthony would be glad for any excuse to see his friend Mr. Earl, and I...well," she shrugged, "you must know that I never tire of your company, Hart."

This was perfectly true, and she'd been aware of that even before she'd realized just how much she cared for him. He was her dearest friend, and that would remain the same even if Hart did not love her. And, to be honest, she could not see any reason for him doing so. He could have any girl in Middleton if he wanted, she was sure of that (although perhaps she was a little biased in his favor). She had to be last on the list of potential matches for the earl...

Or at least, that's what she'd thought until he spoke again. Until she looked up and saw the expression on his face. For a moment she felt as though her heart actually stopped - she was certainly having difficulty breathing! The poor handkerchief she was still clutching onto had to have been strangled quite to death by this point, but that did not stop her from clutching it all the more tightly as she waited to see what would follow.

"But...?" she repeated coaxingly, blue eyes wistfully meeting his own. In a move that was uncharacteristically bold of her, her cheeks blushed bright red and she spoke again. It wasn't like her to fight for anything, at least not on her own behalf, but if there was a chance that Hart loved her - and it was beginning to look like there was a chance - then she felt it was worth doing something about. "There's nothing that says I can't have room for...for both of you in my heart," she pointed out. "If...if that's what you are asking. I know it's terribly forward of me to say anything but I..." she ducked her head, cheeks burning and face twisted in anxiety as she silently offered up a prayer and hoped that she hadn't just made a complete fool of herself and ruined everything. "I wanted you to know."

[Aubrey Hartwell]

Aubrey smiled faintly when Mrs. Fairchild called him a ninny. He would have laughed if his racing heart would have allowed it. There was also the small fact that he was not sure if the woman before him quite understood his meaning. His wanting to see her more had very little to do with Anthony, although he would be more than happy to treat the boy as his own son, if their relationship ever came to that (which he very much hoped it would). Still, her statement of never tiring of his company warmed his heart.

"But...?" Mrs. Fairchild repeated coaxingly, blue eyes wistfully meeting his own. Devoreaux stared at her for a moment, trying to formulate the words in his head so that they would come out just right. "I guess all I can ask for is a chance," he raised his hands helplessly, knowing that his choice of words had been quite a bit less eloquent than he had hoped. "A chance to make you happy, that is."

Aubrey was very surprised at Mrs. Fairchild's next words. "There's nothing that says I can't have room for... for both of you in my heart. If... if that's what you are asking. I know it's terribly forward of me to say anything but I... I wanted you to know." She ducked her head then and Hart felt nearly overcome with relief. He laughed then, and crossed the room once more to stand in front of her, a smile on his face. He took her hands once again. If Mrs. MercyAnne Fairchild could be so bold, so could he.

"MercyAnne," he breathed her name, "I find that I have fallen hopelessly in love with you. I should very much like for you to be my wife." He paused. "What I am really asking is, would you allow me to court you?"