Trouble In Paradise Part 3 - Ambrose and Cecil
this part is more angsty then illness. not betad im too tired. oh there's an Easter egg in this part for readers ^^ wonder how many will notice
Molly worked her magic as best as she could providing hot herbal wine to sooth Ambrose's cough. The mustard plaster wasn't his favorite but anything to rid himself of congestion if only for a few hours would be worth it.
“You look quite handsome, sir, if I may say so.” Molly said as she pulled Ambrose's hair into a ribbon tying it back.
“Thank you, Molly.” Ambrose smiled, tucking a handkerchief into his sleeve.
His reflection in the mirror looked better than he felt, the dark blue coat paired with the powder blue waistcoat was a nice change from his normal brown attire.
“Enjoy yourself tonight Mr Beaumont and please alert me if you need anything, I shall be helping Lord Lockhart's staff.” Molly said as she opened the door.
“Thank you and I will.” Ambrose nodded.
Letting out a raspy sigh, Ambrose once again fiddled with his tie before heading out and down to the main ballroom.
The halls were packed with guests socializing, laughing, gossiping as Ambrose weaved his way through the crowds trying to find Cecil.
Freddy caught his eye and winked at him then turned his attention back to the man on his arm and the woman on the other.
Rolling his eyes, Ambrose finally saw Cecil in with a large group of people right near one of the entrances to the ballroom.
The string band played, waiters offered drinks, and guests maneuvered their way in.
Ambrose relaxed a bit when he approached Cecil who was engaged in a conversation with a man Ambrose knew but not by name.
He waited for a break in the conversation before alerting Cecil to his presence but noticed Edmund Lockhart staring at him.
Swallowing hard, Ambrose cleared his throat hoping Cecil would turn but with all the chatting, it went unheard.
Several minutes passed before he caught Cecil's eyes.
“Ambrose?” He turned with a frown, then leaned in, “You shouldn't be here.”
Taken aback, Ambrose scoffed, “And why not? I told you earlier I'd be attending tonight, what gives you the right...”
“Cecil!” Lord Lockhart's voice boomed over Ambrose's as he approached both men, “You've many more suitors to meet, let's not keep them waiting.”
Cecil's expression pained momentarily then returned to stoic before his father noticed. “Yes Father.” He turned back to Ambrose, “I will speak with you at a later time.”
Ambrose nodded curtly. "Of course, I apologize for interrupting." The effort to keep his voice steady was taking its toll. So he stood silently several feet away while he watched Lord Lockhart efforts to find his son a better suitor bow, curtsy, and brown nose their way into the conversation.
Ambrose kept his mouth shut, taking a glass of wine whenever a servant passed with a tray.
Occasionally, Cecil would look his way but the glimpses were always fleeting.
He felt pressure building, that burning sensation in his lungs, so excused himself to a quiet corner where he coughed into his handkerchief, and desperately fought tears.
Closing his eyes he took a breath. This wasn't new. Cecil would always garner attention. Ambrose simply yearned for it not to be at Edmund's hand.
"Why doesn't he concentrate on Freddy?" Ambrose muttered under his breath as he rubbed at his nose again.
"Because even his Lordship recognizes folly." A tall man, probably Ambrose's age stood next to him now. Finely dressed in a deep green waistcoat and tan satin ascot, his light green eyes were friendly as smiled at Ambrose who was briefly taken aback.
"Oh where are my manners," He said putting out his hand, "Carlton Lane, nephew of Lord Lockhart, my mother is his sister, Lady Avis Lane." Carlton pointed to a woman in a lovely blue dress and hat near the center of the room, surrounded by others.
"Ambrose Beaumont, pleasure. But please do not take offense for not taking your hand, I am feeling a bit under the weather today." He sniffled quickly then bowed.
"Ah so you're Cecil's appraiser. He speaks very highly of you." Carlton said, taking out a cigarette case and offering one to Ambrose.
"No thank you and does he? With all the news over his Lordships recent acquisitions I'd assumed he'd forgotten about me." Ambrose said, forcing his tone to remain pleasant.
Cartlon chuckled, "I was with Lord Edmund as I've taken an interest in antiques. I heard Cecil mutter several times how his father was over paying." He looked directly at Ambrose, "Also weren't you the one who knew that Van George painting was a forgery purely based on where the artist had put the signature? Brilliant work."
Ambrose felt his face flush, "I thank you." He said taking a drink hoping to thwart the cough he felt brewing.
The music ended, both men clapped softly. The orchestra struck up music meant for dancing. Ambrose cast a fleeting glance at Cecil who seemed to be in depth in conversation.
"It appears dancing will start," Carlton looked at Ambrose, "Do you?"
"N-No...not really," He sniffled hard, "I'll stay near the wall for this."
Carlton nodded, "Pleasure meeting you." Then headed off striking up a conversation with another gentleman before they took their positions on the floor.
Ambrose let out a sigh which turned into a cough so he quickly went out onto the balcony for some air. The night was pleasant but still too chilly for Ambrose who coughed again hoping the fresh air would do his lungs some good.
The balcony overlooked the garden he and Cecil walked arm in arm, in several days beforehand. How he wished they could again.
Reentering, Ambrose once again took a glass of wine and looked to where Cecil had been conversing; however he was gone. Confused, Ambrose searched the crowd surrounding the dancers until his eyes fell on the dance floor. His heart sank as he nearly dropped the glass.
Across from Cecil on the dance floor stood a beautiful young woman. A finely crafted jeweled comb sat prominently in her shining black hair. Her dress, a vivid purple probably woven from the finest silks money could buy, draped perfectly over her body. Ambrose watched them as they danced, turning in time to the music, eyes locked on the other. Oh to be that close in public.
Ambrose swallowed hard before taking another sip of wine. A trio of women also seemed to be watching the dancing as they whispered between themselves.
"Excuse me, ladies." Ambrose forced himself to calm down. "Might one of you tell me who that exquisite young lady in the purple dress is?" He pointedly made no mention of Cecil.
The women exchanged knowing looks, then beckoned Ambrose closer. "Miss Amelia De La Croix, daughter of the Countess De La Croix." One of them answered.
"Rumor has it, her mother is eager to marry her off this season after the death of the Count." Another said, fanning herself, "Her mother wants an heir as soon as possible."
Ambrose felt his smile crack slightly, "Oh really?"
"Yes, apparently Lord Lockhart invited her personally to meet his son." The first lady answered.
Ambrose fought back his anxiety, which nearly bubbled over. "I...wasn't aware his Lordship was still pursuing options for his third son." He lied and then finished his wine.
"I heard it's because his son," The third lady motioned to Cecil, "is currently courting someone in the working class."
The other two women gasped playfully, one covering her mouth with a gloved hand. Ambrose suddenly felt quite light headed, the room went out of focus momentarily. Thankfully the gossiping women did not seem to notice.
"Really?" The first woman said, "No wonder he's trying to find a better suitor. However that's not as scandalous as Lord Jamison Cartwright apparently taking in a chimney sweep."
The other two women's mouths dropped, "Is that why Lady Agatha is here unaccompanied?" One asked but Amrbose was no longer paying attention. He held onto the wall for support as he felt his knees might give out any moment.
The music ended and he watched Cecil bow to Miss De La Croix as she smiled perfectly at him. Not able to take anymore, Ambrose rushed past the still gossiping women, passed the dancers, the orchestra, out the side door into the hallway as tears flowed down his cheeks.
"Mr. Beaumont?" Molly called to him as she followed down the hall.
"I wish...to be alone please." Ambrose forced out not looking back at her.
Slipping through the door meant for staff, Ambrose hurried down the hall towards the guest rooms exiting to the main hall.
Grasping his bedroom door handle, Ambrose had not even stepped one foot in before he bent over weeping. Leaning against the closed door he sank to the floor grabbing his knees. Choking sobs mixed with gasping wheezes escaped him.
The image of Cecil dancing with her wouldn't leave his mind.
Finally Ambrose could cry no longer, every emotion lay spent on the floor so he pushed himself up staggering to the bed.
Wiping tears away he heard the chamber door open. "Molly, I said I wish to be left alone..."
"Ambrose." Cecil whispered his name as he shut the door.
Ambrose looked over but then back down at the handkerchief he fiddled with in his hands. "Mr Lockhart, to what do I owe this honor? Shouldn't you be conversing with the suitors your father..." He stopped abruptly as Cecil had wrapped his arms around him from the back, pulling him close. He felt Cecil's warm face buried in his neck.
"H-Hart..." Ambrose's lips trembled.
Neither spoke, Ambrose could only hear how intense his heart beat against his chest, as Cecil clutched him.
"Forgive me, Ambrose." Cecil finally managed, releasing his grip only to spin the other man round. "Though I will full accepted if that is never possible." It was then Ambrose noticed a dull wetness at the corner of Cecil's gray eyes. "Never did I wish to upset you as I have these last few days. Never have I felt so angry with myself at how I handled my affairs. Never have I wanted anything but what I have with you." Bringing his hand up he wiped away a tear from Ambrose's face. "I know I do not always make my feelings public but you are all I desire and wish for when I'm alone at night." He whispered breath shaking as he spoke. Cecil pressed his forehead against Ambrose's, thumbing his cheek. "I yearn for your gentle smile when you gaze in my direction, the touch of your hand against mine, your tender embrace."
Ambrose brought his arms up holding Cecil close to him. "You are forgiven, my Hart." He said softly as tears fell. Ambrose sniffled harder needing to pivot a bit to rub his poor nose. He could feel a sneeze building but Cecil's embrace felt so warm against him he did not want it to end. Hoping to deter it, he sniffed again, even moving the position of his arm to let him rub in a very ungentlemenly like fashion.
Cecil chuckled, stepping back, as Ambrose's brow knitted. "Bless, belle."
Before Ambrose could reply, his breath hitched, and he brought his handkerchief up.
Heh-TSCH’iew! Hhh’juschew!
"I'd hoped your health had improved." Cecil aaid as he walked over to the fire, adjusting his waistcoat with one hand as he ran a hand through his hair with the other. Using the fire striker to lite the tinder in the fireplace, soon the hearth glowed with warmth.
"It has...I think." Ambrose said behind in his handkerchief as Cecil stoked the fire. "Better than earlier when I met..." He instantly cut himself off as he had not mentioned Freddy to Cecil.
"Ephraim already informed me of your meeting." Cecil exhaled. "I must speak with him."
Ambrose did not think that would solve anything but kept his thoughts to himself. "Molly provided me with a mustard plaster and herbal wine, so I was feeling better for a while." He turned sneezing again. "It appears though that's worn off.”
"Promise me you'll stay in bed tomorrow." Cecil said lowly as he took Ambrose's free hand in his. "It pains me to see you ill."
"And what of you, Hart." Ambrose asked, squeezing Cecil's hand, "You try to hide it but I see the dark lines beneath your eyes, the beads of sweat which pepper your brow, you're fevered aren't you? Please be truthful."
Closing his eyes, Cecil's shoulders heaved a heavy sigh. "I am...not feeling my best, no. It is nothing...I will..."
"Rest accordingly tomorrow before the auction, then slip away after." Ambrose said sternly. "Let Clifford handle everything, that's his job as the first born. We could have time to ourselves again."
A pained expression crossed Cecil's face as he opened his eyes, "That does sound pleasant. However, there is too much on Clifford's plate currently hence why I'd been heading the auction and my aunt the subsequent parties. Also there's a fox hunt tomorrow."
Ambrose frowned, "You abhor the sport."
"I do yes, however Henry Forthright, the Earl of Westchester, will be attending, my father has requested I attend in Clifford's absence." Cecil said, still looking at the fire, unable to face Ambrose.
"I see." Ambrose replied quietly, sniffling again. "Perhaps then...I'll simply return to Holland House as I do not expect much time with you here." He rubbed his nose against his handkerchief.
Cecil finally faced Ambrose, "I...I will not stop you, belle. You have every right. But know the pain I would be in daily not seeing your smile, hearing your voice..." Placing his fingers beneath Ambrose's chin, he tilted his head up, "Please reconsider."
Ambrose's lips trembled, his chest burned from breathing heavily, he wanted nothing more than to bottle this moment but his weak lungs interrupted him forcing him back as he coughed dryly.
Cursing to himself, he shook his head, "I will...sleep on it, Cecil." He coughed again, a delicate wheeze escaping, "For now I must rest before I take a turn for the worse." He began unbuttoning his waistcoat.
"Of course." Cecil's stoic manner returned as he placed his hands behind his back, "Shall I send Molly to assist you, bring tea perhaps."
"That would be...appreciated." Ambrose coughed again. "As I expect to not be at breakfast, please pass on my apologies." He suddenly felt exhaustion washing over him.
Cecil nodded, "Of course. I do hope I will see you tomorrow after the hunt...but..." He paused looking longingly at Ambrose. "Please let me know of your decision." Cecil stepped forward again hand raised as if to cup Ambrose's face but then it faltered. "Goodnight Ambrosia." He said softly, then headed for the door.
He was alone again. Ambrose did want to attend the auction but it pained him that he wouldn't be up there with Cecil speaking on the items, he wasn’t sure if he could stand watching Reginald in his place.
Sitting on his bed, Ambrose let out a long sigh. "Perhaps returning is the best plan." He said to himself. Was being away from Cecil truly better than simply not being near him? Ambrose continued to mull it over as he changed into a night shirt and drank the tea Molly had provided.
His last thoughts before driftly to sleep was the feeling of Cecil's hold on him earlier.
