Page 37 of A Lady's Propitious Match
Just as Christopher was about to respond, not that he was sure what to say in this moment, footsteps silenced them both.
The delicate cadence of her movements seemed to weave a melody, momentarily distracting from the weighty conversation that had just transpired. For a fleeting moment, the world narrowed to the vision of her, and Christopher’s troubled thoughts found solace in the sheer elegance of her presence.
Clara, a vision of grace, wore an ensemble that befitted the occasion — a gown of deep sage green adorned with delicate silver embroidery that shimmered like stars. The fitted bodice accentuated her slender frame, and the gown cascaded into a flowing skirt that swirled with every step, leaving an ethereal trail behind her. The neck line, modest yet alluring, framed the graceful curve of her neck.
Her green eyes sparkled with a subtle hint of excitement, framed by a touch of kohl that added a mysterious allure. Clara’s hair, usually restrained in a simple bun, now flowed in loose waves, framing her face like a cascade of dark silk.
Christopher, momentarily forgetting the weight of Lord Belmont’s warning, found himself captivated by the sight before him. Clara’s attire, a masterpiece in itself, highlighted not just her physical beauty but also the free spirit and creativity that definedher essence. In that moment, the shadows of societal expectations and impending duels faded into the background, leaving only the enchanting presence of Lady Clara Belmont.
“Mr. Fitzhugh,” she greeted with a genuine smile, unaware of the tumultuous under currents that had shaped the evening. “Shall we proceed to the theatre?”
Christopher, grappling with the unease of the situation, masked his inner turmoil with a forced smile and a nod. He was not sure if he could form more words in front of Lord Belmont. He did not wish to make more of a fool of himself.
His mother’s words had now been echoed by Clara’s father, which made Elliot’s acceptance feel like something which could never come to fruition.
As they prepared to depart, the ornate doors of the Belmont mansion opened, unveiling the night ahead — a theatre outing that, unbeknownst to Clara, carried with it the weight of unspoken challenges and the shadow of a duel that lingered in the corridors of power and privilege.
