A Game of Chess, Ch. 18 -- PG-13

[librarian_7]

Okay, the usual disclaimers, and all that.

A Game of Chess

Chapter 18


Even the lace curtains in Coraline's receiving room seemed limp with the heat. And she moved closer to the open window, hoping in vain for the night to produce a cooling breeze. Although as a young woman she'd been taught how to flirt with the flutter of fan, tonight it seemed entirely reasonable for her to be moving the confection of black lace and finely carved ivory for more practical purposes. Nevertheless, she was aware that Cam was paying close attention to the seductive movements that gave him glimpses of the creamy flesh exposed by the low neckline of her gown.

"I had no idea," she said, "the evenings in New York would be so sultry. Paris never seems so warm."

Cam chuckled. "You'll find winters cool enough, I think. This is the hottest part of the year." He made no effort to rise from where he sprawled across one of her delicate couches. He had a dissatisfied look around his mouth, a certain petulance that Coraline found rather unattractive. For a moment, she had doubts about the wisdom of the continuing his seduction. Then he gave her that careless, endearing smile, and she reminded herself of his considerable financial assets.

Coraline lifted a hand and pulled back the curtain. Perhaps a breeze too timid to penetrate the lace would find its way inside, if the passage was unhindered. Besides, she knew the pose showed off her figure to advantage, the graceful curve of her slender arm above the broad bell of her skirt. She could hear the noise of the city below on the street, the early evening traffic, although considerably less than daytime, still a reminder that all around them moral life surged. Her delicate nostrils flared, searching through the myriad scents that crowded the hot still air. She almost thought she detected a faint hint of vampire in the night, but dismissed it. Surely not. Lost in thought, she barely noticed Cam moving across the room to stand behind her, his legs against her billowing skirts, his hands settling at her waist with the ease of familiarity. He bent his head down to nuzzle her neck.

"Oh, Cam," she said. "Not by the open window."

"Can I help it, when you look so delectable?" He replied. His eyes took on a darker, smoky look of desire. "Coraline," he said, "I'm burning for you. Tell me you love me. Tell me that you burn, too."

“Mon coeur,” she said, turning to caress him, “mon sang. Of course I do. Of course. But we must be cautious. Your wife – your mother. They would destroy me, if they could."

He could scarcely argue with that. He knew well it was true. "I'll leave her," he said suddenly. "I'll leave them all. We can be together, for the rest of our lives."

Coraline glanced downward. She knew he would take it for maidenly modesty, for feminine dismay at his impetuous declaration. In truth, she did not wish him to see the roil of emotions chasing across her face. Pleasure at knowing his capture was complete, coupled with a hint of annoyance. He might think it romantic to leave everything behind, but Coraline was more practical. Poverty was not on her agenda, and while she was fond of cam, in her way, she had no intention of supporting him. Men existed to support her. "Cam, dearest, think of the scandal. We can be happy, but we must be careful. Don't you see?"

He released her and turned to pace the room. "This is intolerable. There must be some way."

"Of course there is. But it will take time, and much planning." She fluttered her fan again, trying to draw his attention. "Darling, I know I'm stupid about such things, but surely you can find a way that we can be comfortable."

Cam stopped at that, and stared at her. For the first time, he had an inkling that not everything was about love.

Seeing her mistake, Coraline laughed, a low and sensual chuckle. "Forgive me for mentioning it, my love," she said. "We French, we are raised to be practical, even in matters of the heart. I only worry for your sake."

Whatever Cam might have replied was lost, with a knock at the front door. He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Expecting someone, sweetheart?"

Coraline tried to let her exasperation show. She shook her head, the dark ringlets around her face bouncing. "I can't imagine who it could be," she said. "Cynthia, the door."

They heard a rustle of skirts, and the muffled creak of hinges as Coraline's companion went to her task. If Coraline's ivory complexion could have paled, it would have. The voice in the hallway might not have been distinctive enough for Cam to recognize, but Coraline knew exactly who it was. Cynthia's announcement of, "Mr. Fitzgerald to see you, mademoiselle," was entirely unnecessary.

Josef smiled to see identical looks of irritation turned toward him. "Mademoiselle Duvall, Mr. Marshall," he beamed. "I trust I'm not making an unwelcome intrusion. I had thought perhaps that you would favor me with a rematch this evening. Our last games of chess were so entertaining, I could not resist a return visit, even uninvited. It seemed like the perfect way to distract myself on such a hot summer night."

"I'm very flattered, Mr. Fitzgerald," Coraline replied. "But as you see, I already have a visitor, and it would be rude to neglect him, even for such a stimulating diversion."

Cam frowned, sulking. "I wouldn't want to deprive you of entertainment, Coraline," he said. "Perhaps I should –"

"Nonsense," Coraline interjected, laying hand on his arm. "Surely the three of us can visit amicably. Perhaps I can offer you both a drink?" She sank down on a nearby chair and directed her gaze to Cynthia Davis, who still stood in the entrance to the parlor. "The sherry decanter, if you please."

With a look at Josef, Cam sat down on the sofa, deliberately sprawling to take up space and show that he was master of the room.

Josef suppressed both his amusement, and nearly overwhelming desire to make some remark concerning ill-mannered louts, and took up a position in a convenient armchair. “I haven’t seen you at the club in some time, Marshall.”

Cam snorted. “I’ve had better places to be.”

“Here, for instance?”

He gave Josef a black look. “And what’s that to you?”

Josef maintained his bland affability. “Just conversation, Marshall. Sky Smith was wondering about you yesterday evening.”

“Sky.” Cam put a wealth of contempt into the syllable.

“He’s a good friend to you,” Josef said, with a hint of sharpness. He was wondering why Coraline hadn’t spoken, merely sitting back, with a relaxed smile curving her lips.

The tension was broken by Cynthia, carrying in a tray with a decanter and three delicate crystal glasses.

“Now, perhaps you gentlemen will be in a better mood, with a drop or two of sherry?” Coraline said. She gestured Cynthia to put the tray on a side table, and her housekeeper complied, lips pressed in a tight line. Josef wondered what the vampire servant disapproved of so strongly. Himself, or Cam? Or both together?

Coraline rose gracefully, making herself the center of all attention effortlessly. The bell of her skirt swayed enticingly, leading the gentlemen to imagine the sensual swing of her hips moving beneath it. Josef might have been aware of just how long she’d had to practice walking that way, but it didn’t detract from his enjoyment of the show. Cam simply thought she was the most desirable woman he’d ever seen. All the rest, even the belles of New York society, the ones who’d been sent abroad to finishing school, and trained by dancing masters their whole lives, moved like dray horses, next to Coraline.

While their hostess poured the tiny glasses of sherry, Cam was thinking furiously. Was Fitzgerald a rival? That was not to be endured.

“So, Fitz, are you in the habit of forcing your company on young women, uninvited?” he asked suddenly.

Josef looked mildly surprised. “That seems an irrelevant question,” he replied. He glanced over his shoulder at the black-clad shadow hovering near the doorway. “Miss Davis?”

Cynthia came forward, somehow managing to make the stiff rustle of her bombazine skirts disapproving. Obviously, Josef thought, the heat wasn’t affecting her in the least. “Mr. Fitzgerald?” She didn’t really care that he’d granted her more of an honorific than Cam Marshall ever had. Come to think of it, she wasn’t sure Mr. Marshall knew her name.

“Have I been a frequent visitor here?” Josef asked, his voice controlled and displaying only a tolerant good humor.

“Frequent? I wouldn’t say that, sir.” Cynthia pressed her lips together.

“And on my—infrequent—visits, have you ever been aware of any impropriety offered to your mistress?”

It hardly seemed possible, but Cynthia’s spine grew even straighter. “No sir.”

Josef glanced at Cam. “And, Miss Davis, is there any way I could have visited Mademoiselle Duvall here without your knowledge?”

Her smile was tight. “That is highly improbable, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

Cam all but sneered. “Of course. The word of a servant.”

Coraline snapped her fan shut. “Cam,” she said, and the temperature in the room suddenly seemed much cooler, “Miss Davis has been my trusted companion for more years than I’d care to admit. If you insult her integrity, you insult mine.” She spread her fan again. There were no more languid, flirtatious movements. Josef was put in mind of an angry cat, lashing her tail. His opinion of Cam as an over-indulged idiot, was fairly well cemented. He wasn’t that impressed with Coraline either, at the moment, for attaching to this lout.

Cam looked startled. “No, no¸ my dear, not at all.” He seemed to realize he’d gone too far. “Forgive me.”

She pursed her lips. “I think, in your rush to—how would you put it?¬—score points? on dear Mr. Fitz, you forget that I am here, too.” Tilting her head to one side, she regarded him steadily. “Perhaps that is not your intent?”

He drained the sherry in his glass at one gulp, looking away. “No, of course not,” he mumbled, his voice sulky.

Josef gave Coraline a half-smile, as adults commiserating over the poor behavior of a teenager will do. He thought perhaps Mrs. Marshall’s concern was overblown. At this rate, Coraline herself would tire of Cam, and send him home to mother and wife, perhaps a little wiser for his experiences. Then again, given Cam’s persistent, stubborn refusal to listen and learn—from anyone—perhaps not. And of course, it all depended on how badly La Duvall wanted Cam’s money. He took a long, deliberate sip of the sherry. “This is very fine, mademoiselle,” he commented, as though the preceding exchange had never taken place.

She smiled. “The family has holdings in Spain as well as France. This is a particularly favored product of them.”

“Near Jerez?”

“Of course.”

“Then you are to be congratulated on your excellent choice of…bloodline.”

“We do not always choose to what family we may be born. It is a matter of some chance, to be sure.”

“So I have always believed. But fortune favors some, more than others.”

Her laugh, Cam thought, sounded like silver bells. He was half-convinced that Fitzgerald and Coraline were having an entirely different conversation than their words seemed to indicate, but for the life of him, he could not understand what they might be talking about. He moved forward, reaching for the decanter. “Damn fine stuff, wherever it’s from. Another glass, Coraline?”

She reached out, impeding his progress, while seeming to take his crystal goblet, effortlessly. “Of course, mon cher, if you wish. But I had in mind offering you a stronger drink, tonight.” Her eyes met Josef’s, her meaning abundantly clear to him.

Josef waved a hand, as if deliberately misunderstanding her invitation to Cam. “Tonight’s no night for that sort of thing,” he said. “Too hot. I’ve seen many a fine vintage ruined, by bad timing in the uncorking.”

Coraline tapped her fan against her closed lips, twice, three times, thoughtfully, before replying. “Perhaps you’re right at that. The heat is against it, I fear.” She smiled then, the mask of the coquette dropping neatly over her features. “Ah, well, a little delay will only age the wine for the better.” She paused. “Where would I be without your good advice, Mr. Fitz?”

Josef smiled back at her. “Where indeed?” he murmured.

[jen]

Lucky

Truly fabulous.

You describe the oppressive heat beautifully. Coraline has had a very long time to practice her craft and she knows how to play to the room. Cam is an idiot on many levels and I would tend to say leave him to his richly deserved fate, if not for Josef's intervention here.

Looking forward to seeing how this plays out.

Thank you!

Jenna

[darkstarrising]

The heat must be getting to all of them, with the exception of Josef.

Coraline has been spinning her web around Cam and seems ready to reel him in, but has let slip her concern with the financial aspects of their relationship. Boorish as he is, this isn't lost on Cam, but all Coraline has to do is start to flirt again, and Cam is putty in her hands. Still, it seems as if he may not be the catch she was hoping for, something Josef seems aware of. Even Cynthia seems to loathe him (as she would loathe another of Coraline's conquests a century in the future.)

Loved the exchange at the end about Coraline's plans to offer Cam something a bit stronger to drink (blood, I assume, but was she planning to turn him? Josef's line about 'uncorking' seemed to indicate that.) Again, a comment one could make about Mick's involuntary turning.

“Too hot. I’ve seen many a fine vintage ruined, by bad timing in the uncorking.”

Cam is in way over his head...if he disgraces himself and /or his family and Coraline tires of him, I wonder if the yet unnamed Mrs. Cam will want him back.

We shall see....wonderful update, Lucky!!

[allegrita]

Oh, my goodness... what an interesting evening, to be sure. The heat isn't the only thing that is feeling oppressive. And Josef, while playing a very deep game, can't help making things even more complicated. I don't know how things are going to turn out, but somehow I think that poor Mrs. Cam is going to come out the loser no matter what. Whether Cam betrays her or returns to her with his tail between his legs, she's stuck with an idiot and a boor.

Cynthia is the epitome of the contemptuous servant here. I love this scene... she really does hate it when her mistress goes a-hunting... shades of things to come in 85 years or so...

[francis]

I just love the atmosphere of this chapter. Tension, heat, unspoken desires, Coraline and Josef talking not in sub-tones but nonetheless in a way that Cam doesn't get the hidden meaning. Uncorking, really? Does she really plan to turn him and then live of his money? I doubt that could work. He's way to dumb to be a good vampire, and I think she can really keep control just because of that. But won't she be bored to death with him?
Josef subtly delays the inevitable with his remark about the heat. I wonder how long he will be able to do that, and what he plans as his next step.

[librarian_7]

I think Coraline has basically told Josef, with this, that she plans to turn Cam. And soon. Josef has blocked it--for tonight, but not forever.

And, while it seems to take me roughly forever to update on this, believe me, I've got plans. And assuming I can pull it off, there will be some pretty spectacular events coming up.

Thanks so much for reading and commenting!

[eris]

You have love a layered conversation.