[FIC] Things I'll Never Say (WIP)

[мαdαм]

Title: Things I'll Never Say
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji
Pairing: Anne/Vincent
Theme: Secrets
Summary: Sometimes you can't have exactly what you want. But you can get close to it.
Warning: Spoilers, WIP, Long

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Chapter 1

The evening air was cool. Autumn's touch had descended upon England and left behind a world of wonderful colours. Bright golden and red leaves filled the air and blustered their way into every corner. Angelina found this time of year her absolute favourite, and would spend her free time leaning against window frames and balconies alike, watching the vibrant leaves dance their way around. She could lose herself in those moments, and often would not realize 'til an hour later how much time had passed.

In one of those situations now, the scarlet doctor stood in the heart of the Phantomhive gardens, her arms securely wrapped about herself and pulling her shawl firmly to her body. The flimsy material did not offer enough warmth to keep her from shivering in the breeze, but she ignored it for the most part, and simply enjoyed the scenery. She had come to visit Rachel only to find her sister thoroughly exhausted. You see, Ciel had been suffering from a chest cold, and Rachel was worried sick he would start showing signs of her own childhood ailments. Doing her best to sooth her sister's worries, she had relieved the woman of her sick child and sent her straight off to bed to sleep. Rachel had been reluctant, but eventually released the boy to his aunt's treatment. Angelina was a doctor, who better to trust?

It had taken a good hour to calm the child to sleep. Anne had stayed at the boy's bedside for over an hour before becoming convinced he would rest well. Informing the maid to keep a close eye on the boy and to send someone to fetch her immediately if anything happened, Anne had stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. Several minutes later, this is still where she remained, thoroughly engrossed in the enchanting evening. So much so, she hadn't heard the distant trot of a horse and carriage.

The only thing that did manage to draw her attention, or rather, startle her, was the gloved hand that lightly gripped her shoulder. Angelina jumped, and whirled around to face a laughing earl. Vincent seemed thoroughly amused by her reaction, and fixed the woman with a charming smile.

"Good evening, Angelina. I saw your carriage out front- have you been here long?" the Earl inquired politely. Angelina fixed her brother-in-law with a stern expression, a hand pressed to her chest. It took the woman a moment to find her voice, and she looked away to compose herself.

"Welcome home, Vincent. Two or three hours at the most," the woman murmured softly, tightening her fingers into the material of her shawl.

"That long?" He ventured, studying the woman. A bit of that time must have been spent outside, he reasoned. Her cheeks were already red from the chill in the air, and he watched her slender frame shiver slightly.

"I decided to say to keep an eye on Ciel, while Rachel rested. He finally settled down to sleep around half an hour ago." Angelina murmured softly, training her voice to remain calm. One on one conversations with Vincent were always very taxing for her. She was doing perfectly fine until a warm jacket was wrapped around her shoulders, and she could feel his hands rubbing up and down along her arms over it. His scent wafted around her from the jacket, and she turned back to look at him with a small smile. It was all she could do to keep her knees from buckling under that charming smirk of his. Thoughtful bastard.

"You need not get a cold yourself- who will look after those two then?" he teased her as he continued to warm up her body. Smiling softly as he noticed her leaning back into his administrations.

"You might have to look after them yourself," Angelina murmured, allowing her eyes to slide closed. For just this moment she would pretend, allowing herself the brief fantasy of his touch, and enjoying his presence a bit too much. When her eyes opened again, she realised that his hold had stilled, and his hands were still gripped lightly along her arms.

Slowly she lifted her gaze to look up at the man towering behind her. He met her gaze intently, and she blinked up at him slowly.

"Vincent?" she questioned, brow furrowing as she tried to decipher the intensity of his expression. "Is something-"

"Shhh." He hushed her, lifting one of his hands to cover her mouth. Startled she stiffened, until he drew the hand away and gestured into the garden. "Look." he whispered, drawing her attention towards the shrouded area of the garden. There a fawn stood, nibbling away on the expensive leaves of his geraniums. Angelina relaxed, trying to focus her attention on the deer instead of the man's hands, one of which still remained on her arm, and the other had fallen to rest on her shoulder. She swallowed, ignoring the burning sensation in her cheeks. "Life is so precious, wouldn't you agree?" Vincent murmured, not that Angelina was honestly listening. "To think, just this summer he was born, and now he ventures out on his own."

Angelina responded with a soft, "Yes, it is." Her thoughts, however, were not focused on the young fawn eating his way through hundreds of pounds. The woman's thoughts were focused on keeping herself calm and relaxed, trying to ignore the desire to just reach up and touch him, to make sure this was real, and his hands were still casually holding her. A part of her knew this was wrong, knew that Rachel would be distraught to find out about her thoughts. But Rachel had him didn't she? Angelina could be allowed her private dreams. Private as they were, they still managed to show on her face under his touch- and she had never felt it so prolonged before. It concerned her, what would bring him to become so physical? She doubted her own resistance if he continued to hold her.

Just as she was about to excuse herself, the fawn stiffened with its ears shooting forward with alarm. Anne followed its gaze to the side, but could see nothing. Her lips hadn't parted to inquire before she already knew. Like the wrath of heaven the sky opened up and the spell over them was broken by a cool mist of water. She turned in the same moment as Vincent pulled her arm lightly, and she stumbled into him with a meek 'ouff'.

The Earl chuckled softly while offering his arm and Anne shoved him aside weakly. Of course this did nothing to unbalance him, and she started off towards the manor with an embarrassed expression. There was no way she was getting drenched just to play his games. Vincent caught up with her easily, but it was not long before the two were sprinting in the downpour to reach the doors.

Once inside, they stood in puddles trying to wring the water from their clothes. "Well, now we're all going to be sick," Vincent murmured, brushing his bangs out of his eyes to look at Angelina as she laughed. The woman hadn't noticed his gaze, or the manner in which he trailed his eyes over her body. It was hard not to stare with that scarlet hair clinging along her flushed cheeks. He tried not to entertain the manner in which her dress was pressed against her figure. But even as a gentleman you weren't blind to a well endowed woman. Perhaps it was most shocking to realize how well Angelina had matured, because in his head she had still been that naive little child sulking in her father's garden. But this woman was no longer a teenager, and it was disturbing to find she had become such a temptress. Vincent looked away from the droplets caressing her skin and swallowed. No, none of this was Angelina's fault. She couldn't control what he thought. It was his own issue that he found her attractive-shamefully much more then Rachel. But it wasn't as if Rachel wasn't beautiful, she was. But her sister... Well. Angelina was clearly the most endowed. Ahem.

Trying to focus his attention on another topic, he called out for a few servants. Seconds later they were being whisked off in opposite directions. Vincent couldn't help but glance back towards the fleeting scarlet frame. When he turned around he was met with a frowning butler.

"Sir," Tanaka murmured, folding his arms over his chest.

"Yes..?" Vincent questioned, trying not be startled by the man's gaze.

"I know that look, Vincent," Tanaka voiced, the sound of disapproval ringing clear on his tongue. The Earl blinked, rather taken back by the reproach.

"I don't know to what you're referring," Vincent retorted, stepping around the butler and heading towards his room. Imagine. He knew that look. What was that suppose to mean? The look he had given Angelina? Vincent swallowed, and closed his eyes as be climbed the grand staircase. Yes, Vince. You had been gawking at her like you've never seen a female before. But in reality, he had never seen her before. Not that way.

His thoughts however were just that, thoughts. It did not mean he would act on them. He was married, and had a child, and Angelina was his sister-in-law. Surely she would be horrified to know his thoughts. He should be horrified to know his thoughts! Everything would be fine, Tanaka need not worry. It was just a passing realization. He was allowed to admire her, surely. Admiration was just a compliment.

Deciding that everything was fine and having convinced himself of such, Vincent stepped into his chambers slowly. The earl gazed over the sleeping form of his wife with a fond smile. She was so beautiful. Are you forcing yourself to think that? Vincent's mind mocked him, and he looked away with a frown as he allowed Tanaka to pull out a dry set of clothes for him. "Angelina, what have you done to me?" Vincent whispered softly to himself.

[мαdαм]

Chapter 2

It was raining. Those slow steady beating of droplets that often relaxed Anne after a long day shift at the hospital. Yet, as she rested her head against the cold surface of her bedroom window, no sleep would find her. Not that she could fall asleep sitting up, that was. Truth be told, she hadn't even gone to bed. When she had returned home, something about the soft snore of her husband's breath had caused her to hesitate on entering her bedroom chamber. She had of course become comfortable with him by now, but sometimes... it was difficult to convince herself to lay beside him. During those times Anne had spent many long hours staring at the ceiling wishing he was someone else, and dreading guilt that came with her thoughts.

Tonight would prove to be another one of those nights. Only, she had been unable to even bring herself to lie beside him. So there she sat, legs pulled up against her chest and the sheer material of her night gown pooling over the window seat. In the darkness of the room there was only the dull drumming of rain and the dying hiss of embers in the fireplace to keep her company. But if you listened closely enough you might, perchance, catch the occasional snore of her husband as well, haunting her.

Those scarlet eyes remained half lulled, watching the water droplets as they trickled down over the glass beside her. She traced their paths downward slowly, until they merged into others of their kin and then slipped over the ledge to fall into the darkness below. There was something nostalgic about watching those droplets, and for a moment she flashed back to a moment in time nearly 16 years ago. She was 15 and foolish, easily wooed by the charm of a certain charismatic Earl. His gentle words about her appearance were all that it took to soften her heart towards him. Even if her sister was to marry him instead of her, it did not lessen her growing love for him- in fact, it gave her the excuses to be all the more close to him.

It had been few days before her sister's wedding day, and Anne was very hard to find. Alas, she had not hidden hard enough. She had a quite spot as child, a secret place to escape the world- one she had not even shown to her sister. While she was sure Rachel knew she had such a place, her dear sister had not found a way to follow her. Bless her heart, but her older sister's asthma kept her from running fast enough to find Anne when she dashed off into the gardens. At this time in her life, Anne had grown mature strangely fast- something about realizing the man you loved so deeply would never be yours. But this maturity took time to grow. Growth that she spent many long hours in the thick undergrowth around a tall willow in the heart of their gardens. The trunk of the willow suffered some kind of deep depression into the lower end of it, which had with natural time healed and continued to grow. This had, however, left a rather large hole in the side of the tree, just big enough to slide a teenage girl inside comfortably with several books. At least, she suspected it was only large enough for herself at the time, she had never had the pleasure of inviting someone else, nor had she the desire to invite someone.

She had been overwhelmed, no longer able to take her parents gushing over their eldest daughter's 'perfect' marriage. It wasn't as if she made a scene, she had just turned slowly and left. No explanation, no frustrated crying, or heart breaking sobs- she had more respect for her family then that. She would not make a spectacle of herself, just over her own unrequited love. Yet somehow he had known something was wrong. When no one else spared a glance as her scarlet frame slipped from the room, he had been ever so observant of her. Perhaps something she should have clued in on- but even to this day she had not truly understood his actions that evening.

She hadn't checked to look behind her as she ran, hadn't thought someone would have cared enough to chase her. She had walked calmly, but with a hustled pace through the house, almost in a half sprint. Her self control broke when she reached the cool evening breeze. With nothing but the sleeveless dress she wore, she broke into a sudden run, almost as if the devil itself was at her heels. She remembered running until her feet were cramped within those delicate heels, till her lungs burned with a feverish ache, and while tears started to leave moistened tracks down her cheeks. Heavy skirts would not hamper her movements, and for the darkness had no eyes to need modesty. The layers were hiked up at her sides, fingers gripping the expensive cloth until her knuckles had gone white. She only stopped once she collapsed in to the sanctuary offered by decaying leaves.

The hollowed area of the tree held an earthy smell that always reminded Anne of a thick forest. It made her small area of heaven seem vast and secluded, thus comforting her with the thought of being far away from her troubles. She curled up on the blanket she had ago smuggled out of the manor months ago. Silent tears leaked down her cheeks while her lip was captured between her teeth against the emotions that were swelling in the back of her throat. She chastised herself for being so foolish, trying to reason with her conscience about being happy for her sister. But in that moment in time she could not find it within herself to feel joy for the two people she loved. She had never experienced a pain quite like it before in her life. Having lived the sheltered dream of a child brought up with everything she could ever want or need—not having something she wanted so dearly was a strange concept to her. Not that Angelina was spoiled by any means, but it was still a foreign concept to her.

She buried her face into the worn material of her hideout. The rich scent of the earth below filling her senses as her tears dampened the material. Could she do this? Could she stand in this ceremony and witness her sister walking away with the man of her dreams? The thought let a sob escape from the back of her throat, and she tightened her fingers into the blanket under her. It was then that she heard her name being called softly, and stiffened with a gasp. Wide scarlet eyes looked upwards with alarm. Had someone found her? What if someone had seen her leaving the house? Panic filled her, and she clenched her hands till the knuckles turned white against the worn material of that blanket. Her name sounded again, and she realized just how desperate the voice sounded. The only problem was that it was Vincent. She was stunned. Why had he followed her? She didn't want him to see her like this—crying her heart out over him. How weak he would think her, and how could she ever explain what was wrong to cause such distress? No, she couldn't let him find her.

But it would appear Vincent did not seem to regard her personal desires what so ever. There was a sharp 'snap' as a few twigs broke, and she could hear Vincent emit a few very ungentlemanly choice words about the thorns that were digging into him. She couldn't help but laugh, the sound coming out rather weakly and half mixed with a hiccup. She only then realized that this would confirm to Vincent that he had indeed found her, and she huffed. Soon the Earl appeared before her, and what a mess he had made of himself. Not small enough to sneak in through the small tangle of branches that Angelina could, the man looked like he had lost a fight with a wild cat. His cheek held three slash marks from the thorns, and his hair was filled with leaves. His suit was dishevelled, and yet he seemed to still hold a charming air, as if the look were natural, and he had meant to do it. Angelina couldn't help but smile weakly, lifting her hands to hastily wipe away the tears on her cheeks.

"Why didn't you answer me?" He inquired, needing to squat down before the opening in the tree, one hand on the ground and the other lifted to hold onto the trunk of the large willow. Angelina looked away with embarrassment burning on her cheeks. She didn't respond and the noble seemed to only then realize she had been crying. "Angelina…?" He ventured, seeming to disregard the condition of his clothing as he slid onto his knees into the red earth. The trousers would be ruined, but the Earl seemed much more concerned for Anne. "Talk to me…" The man whispered, concern lacing his voice heavily. When nothing came from the teenager and her only action was to draw back into the wall of the trunk, he grew more worried. It was with shock to Angelina that he forced his way into her little hideout, grunting slightly until he had squeezed himself up beside her, those long legs stretched out awkwardly beyond the mouth of the dugout, and it surely would look comical to see. The mood, however, was quite serious as Vincent lightly turned Angelina's head to meet his gaze. "Angelina… please tell me what's bothering you," he whispered out softly, the sides of his fingers lightly brushing over her tear-stained cheeks.

"I…." How could she tell him? How could she possibly bring herself to utter those words. I love you, such a simple phrase with such heavy alterations to everything. She lowered her eyes from his gaze as he peered down at her.

"Did… someone hurt you?" The Earl dreaded the answer to this question, eyes widening as she inclined her head slightly. Clearly Angelina's innocence was missing the true question Vincent had asked. A mixture of both rage and utter loathing filled the Earl, and Angelina had suddenly found herself pulled into his embrace. She stiffened under the tight hold and became quite embarrassed. "Oh Angelina. I'm so sorry," he whispered out, bowing his head to press into her scarlet strands. "I noticed you've become so quiet the last few days…. It all makes sense now." Poor Vincent. If you had any real idea. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" he pressed gently, as if afraid she might break in his arms.

To say Angelina was confused was an understatement. She was utterly lost as to what the man was talking about. Did she care though? He was holding her and being quite gentle and soothing.

"I didn't want to ruin your day with Rachel." She played along, whispering half truths against his chest. Vincent frowned, and tightened his arms around her protectively. Who could have done it? One of the servants? But how did they do it? Surely someone would have been close enough to stop it… Suddenly Vincent seemed to realize. With all the commotion over the wedding no one would have noticed Angelina missing. Probably never heard her—mygod. The Earl nearly found himself in tears. Who could have done this to such a sweet little girl? Rage was getting the better of him, and Angelina could feel his arms trembling against her.

"You should never have kept this to yourself… Never Angelina…. This is…. So very serious… Was it someone you're close to?" He tried to approach the subject as gently as he could. Angelina's expression became even more confused, and she sniffled slightly against his jacket. What on earth was he talking about?
"Ah...maybe," Anne responded weakly, still clueless to the situation Vincent had concocted in his head.

"Oh Angelina," Vincent breathed out, flinging the various images of men he had seen around the estate through his head. Who? Who could have done it? Someone she knew well. But to his knowledge Angelina didn't know any men beyond himself and her father. But her father was such a gentleman. A kind man. A man… no one would suspect? No. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be. But Angelina surely shouldn't lie about such a thing. Not the way he had found her. Heart broken and sobbing—something had caused her such unbearable anguish. "Don't you worry. I'll get to the bottom of this for you," he breathed this out gently, and suddenly a light came on in Angelina's head. Ohmygod.

"N-no!" She voiced with panic, suddenly pushing back from the man. "It... isn't… It isn't like that." The poor girl rushed out, looking a mixture of horror and embarrassment. He thought someone had… had forced her? All too suddenly, she felt filthy—and quite disgusted, as if the simple thought of someone having violated her had made her want to retch. And worst… Vincent thinking she had been! Angelina found tears in her eyes again and she shook her head slowly, leaving a very confused Earl to loosely hold her.

"I don't… Angelina, I don't understand then,." He whispered weakly, having some difficulty letting the story he had weaved go. "What happened...?"

Angelina looked at the man before her with those blood red eyes, the scarlet orbs focusing on the man's silver-grey ones with a world of emotion with in them. Her lips parted several times, but each time nothing would leave her. This would be her last chance. The one time to tell him how she felt before everything was finalized. Before everything was sealed for good.

"I…" Her voice was weak, and she swallowed against the emotion in her throat. He coaxed her with a reassuring smile that only made her stomach sink. Her head fell, and she could no longer hold his gaze. "I can't tell you," she whispered out finally. Clearly disappointed, and perhaps insulted by her lack of trust in him, Vincent looked away with a frown. There was a long pause that filled the silence between them. Each wondering what the other was thinking. This continued until Vincent cleared his throat awkwardly.
"You may not be able to tell me now, Angelina. And you may not be able to tell me in a week. But someday I want you to tell me. If you ever have the urge, no matter how much time has passed, you can tell me. I will always be here for you. Never forget that." He murmured out softly, offering the teenager a charming smile. The look melted her heart, and she nodded her head slowly.

The silence had spread between them like a disease, and Angelina found herself growing uncomfortable with their position. The man was still holding her, and she was positioned half in his lap, the layers of her dress spread around them and hiked up in several areas. It would have been a horribly embarrassing as well as misleading position to find them in. His hands still remained lightly on her waist, and she could feel a cramp brewing from the way her leg was positioned in her attempt to keep from placing her weight onto him. She could feel him breathing, the slow steady motions of his breath brushing over the top of her hair and stirring the strands. Slowly Angelina slid her eyes closed and swallowed, unable to hide the tears leaking from the corners. The droplets slid down to land on the Earl's jacket, and eventually Vincent realized he could feel the area becoming damp. Glancing down, he took in the sight with remorse. The girl was shaking slightly, as if she were being crushed from above. Completely unaware that his presence was causing her even more anguish, he lifted one of his hands, and lightly stroked it down her back. He could feel her shy away from the caress, but found that this just brought her close to his chest. He repeated the soft rub, and she seemed to grow more receptive. Eventually he drew her to rest against him completely, and he was reminded of an abused animal, a kitten he had raised as a child that had been so shy, longing for affection, and yet not daring to seek for it.

This of course would perplex the Earl, even as Angelina gave into his compassion and placed her full weight into his lap. The man tilted his head to rest into her hair, smiling softly as she gripped onto his jacket and buried her face into his chest. What had broken her like this? The silence grew longer, broken only by the soft sounds that rose from the woman in his arms. Surely Rachel and her Father would wonder where he had gone— but they could wait. Angelina had been riding in the back seat as of lately, and he realized she had been very much ignored by her family. She might not desire to spill her heart to him, but he would show her he could be trusted.

As they sat in each other's company, Angelina became very acquainted with his heartbeat, listening to it sound comfortingly just against her cheek. The second sound came from the droplets of water that were hitting the leaves of the large tree around them. Vincent shifted his weight before drawing his legs in out of the raindrops. Of course there was little room to manoeuvre, and Angelina found herself politely lifted as the man turned his body around to brace his feet on the wall of the trunk, and bent his knees to accommodate himself lengthwise as he stretched out over the blanket. His head just reached the other side of the trunk, and the Earl completed the position by settling Angelina onto his chest instead.

Colour filled the girl's cheeks, fingers clutching the man's jacket awkwardly as she repositioned to lay over him. This was hardly proper to be sure, but Angelina had the faint realisation he was just trying to be here for her. Of course the situation was not faultless, and thus he needed to be inventive while maintaining that gentleman like idealism. Believing this, Anne was able to comfortably position herself to accommodate their new position. She laid more to the side of him; lightly adjusting the folds of her skirts before leaning hesitantly back up against him. Her head cushioned itself just against his right shoulder, where she could still hear his heart. Tears stilled lined the corners of her eyes, but his presence had calmed her considerably. Perhaps she couldn't have him for herself, but if he continued to treat her this kindly, she could survive.

The rain continued on around them, the heavy shower eventually loosing its strength. By the time light droplets filled the air, they could hear the distant call of their names.
"We should make ourselves found," Angelina murmured softly against his chest, her breath stirring the cravat just under the Earl's chin.

"And go back into that madness?" Vincent questioned lightly, before arching his body upwards slightly. He had one hell of a kink in his back from the position, not to mention his foot was asleep, but it had been worth it. "Let's wait until they get to the other side of the estate, at least. We wouldn't want anyone to know your secret place." Angelina couldn't help but chuckle softly.

"You know," she reminded him.

"I can keep a secret," the Earl drawled out, glancing down at the redhead, and meeting those scarlet eyes with a charming smile. He couldn't miss the blush that blossomed over her cheeks, and found it rather endearing. She could not hold his gaze for long, and dropped it to listen until those voices died off into the distance.

"Shall we?" she questioned, once the voices were distant.

"Eager to get rid of me?" the Earl inquired, teasing the female as he shifted his weight. "Yes, lets make a run for it then." It wasn't easy getting outside. The man was positive he had nearly crushed Anne. But she had been nothing but helpful giving him a shove out of the tree. Once standing, he stretched—hearing several bones crack softly, he winced.

"Let me go first," Anne whispered, and Vincent was more than happy to oblige. He didn't need another face full of thorns. She slid through the hedge in seconds, and he watched with raised eyebrows. Of course it would be easy for someone smaller. This was going to hurt, but it needed to be done. Taking a deep breath, he attempted to follow Angelina's path. It worked marginally better then his own, but he still came through the other side with a few additional scratches. Angelina herself couldn't help but giggle softly at him, which made the man frown even more. "Here," She voiced softly, reaching up to his hair. He bowed forward slightly to accommodate her height, and allowed her to fuss over him. Once he was free of debris, she continued to dust off his shoulders in an attempt to make him presentable. She was completely caught off guard when he suddenly leaned in forward and kissed her, his lips lightly caressing over the corner of her mouth, hearing the audible breath that caught in her throat.

[мαdαм]

Chapter 3

"RAPT RAPT RAPT"
The sudden sound of knocking, while distant, jerked Anne from her thoughts. The dark garden left in the past, as she glanced towards the bed room door with interest. Who could that be? A glance was given to the window, as if she could see some hint as to who waited out in the cold rainy night, brow quirked as the knock sounded again and her husband snorted softly in his sleep. Judging that none of her servants desired to answer it- or, none were awake to hear it, the scarlet women pulled herself to her feet in one fluid movement. Delicate fingers plucked up her house-coat, wrapping the white material about herself firmly, hiding the rather sheer details of her nightgown. Without her husband aware of her leaving, she slipped from the bedroom with a quiet step, eyes narrowing with curiosity as the knock sounded again- harder and almost more desperate. She sprinted forward then, reaching the end of the hall and skidding a bit on the wooden floor as the long rug in the hall ended. Catching herself on the hall banister, she paused to glance down into the foyer, darkness, with only the dying embers of the fire in the corners, to light her way. She took the steps two at a time, gingerly holding up her skirts as she descended. Anne reached the door before another round of knocking could be heard, but yet she hesitated, scarlet eye peering through the peephole with interest. Another round of knocking startled her back from the door, but not before she caught sight of those dark strands, the same ones she had been day-dreaming about not seconds ago. Delicate fingers pulled apart the locks on the door with a strange urgency. Stepping aside, she pulled the door open and avoided the droplets that came in following the drenched form of a certain Earl.

"Vincent?" Anne questioned, brow quirked as she shouldered the door closed behind the man. "What in heaven's name are you doing out at this hour!"

The man in question gave a quiet laugh, lifting a hand to brush the sodden hair from his face.

"I decided to go for a swim," the Earl responded with a bright smile.

"In my front yard?" Angelina inquired, unable to keep herself from laughing softly. She glanced out the side window, noticing the fact there wasn't a carriage to be found. The doors were relocked before she stepped around the growing puddle around the man.

"Of course, you've a very beautiful fountain. I just couldn't help myself." Vincent mused.

"Come, you can tell me what happened." This was said as Angelina beckoned the man to follow her, the edges of her robe bellowing after her, and even in her night-wear the woman held the air of importance and authority. Years of working in the Royal Hospital and dealing with being the 'weaker' sex had taught her one thing. Be strong, or be walked over. A woman doctor was viewed as lesser, and thus she needed to try twice as hard to progress professionally. Yet, Vincent couldn't help but admire the authority in her body movements. He had seen officers of war that had walked with that same proud dominance. To realize Angelina held that kind of power was mind blowing still to him. Snapping out of his mental tangent, Vincent quickly set after the woman, leaving a large pool of water behind him.

They ended up in the kitchen, where Vincent found himself promptly shoved before the large cast iron fireplace. The fire had died down to embers, and he watched with an amused expression as she woman set about stoking up the fire herself, leaning over the bench she had placed before the fire, and bracing her hand on the wooden surface. Rachel would never have done the task on her own. In fact, Rachel would have never answered the door in her nightclothes either. The Earl supposed that was the difference between the sisters, though. They were worlds apart from each other, so much so, that it amused Vincent that Angelina was so independent. He watched the lady balance herself to lean forward to blow her breath over the embers. She added oxygen to the fire, and it didn't take long before Angelina had kick-started the flames and a roaring blaze spilled light into the kitchen happily. Turning, Angelina caught Vincent staring at her and quirked a brow at him. Honestly however, how was he not supposed to stare? The woman's robe had fallen loose around her body, and the sheer material of her nightgown had caught the reflection of those flames, bathing her was a gentle orange light that seemed to make her glow before him. Stop staring, Vincent, he prompted himself, but yet found it increasing difficult to comply. The scarlet doctor held is gaze, peering at him as the fire flashed in her eyes, studying the details of his body as water dripped off the edges of his hair and slid down his face. The urge to just lean in and lick the droplets away from his skin was so over whelming that Angelina found herself leaning towards him. A few simple inches stretched between them, and they both paused.

All too suddenly Angelina pushed back from the bench and turned to fill a kettle of water. She swallowed, placing it on the stove with a shaky breath. What the hell was that? Angelina didn't dare to turn around, but if she had she might have seen that Vincent's expression mirrored her own. An awkward silence spread between them, each wondering if it was his or her imagination that the other had leaned closer. Angelina was the first to speak, breaking the silence. "Excuse me, I'll be right back." Those simple words offered her an escape, and she took it.

Vincent was left to stare after the woman, a hand half lifted in the air as if trying to call her back to him. The hand collapsed into his lap, and he stared down at the floor for a moment. He had nearly kissed her. He had been seconds from leaning it and capturing her lips in a soft kiss. This thought disturbed him, and the Earl lifted his hands to slide his face into them. Fingers ranked through his damp hair, and Vincent sighed. It was best not to think about what he had almost done. Best to ignore the fact it had also happened. To ignore the fact he was disappointed it hadn't happened?

The Earl had left his hair standing in all kinds of odd positions, and by the time Angelina slipped back into the kitchen, they had yet to fall back down. She paused at the doorway to observe the man, watching as he stared into the fireplace with a troubled expression. Had he noticed? Had he seen how she had leaned towards him? Nothing had happened however, that was the important thing. She had escaped unscathed from her own desires and chastised herself for the weakness. Stealing her resolve, the woman stepped back into the kitchen and startled the Earl from his silent reverie.

"Here we are, you can change into these." Angelina set a folded pile beside the Earl. They were her own husband's clothing, but the man would surely not mind. Vincent did not visit enough with Rachel to have accumulated any clothing at Anne's own estate, while she herself visited their own frequently enough to have one or two dresses in the guest room they reserved for her.

Vincent seemed mildly startled that she had returned so soon—as if he had believed she might leave him here on his own. "Thank you, these will do just fine." The man stood slowly, diligently gathering the pile and holding it away from his saturated frame. He had left a pool on the bench, and the floors around it. He paused, glancing towards Angelina, as if to inquire where he might change. But before he was answered, she gestured towards the laundry room that connected to the kitchen.

"You can leave your suit on one of the tables, I'll have one of the girls see to it in the morning." Anne murmured, unable to help but smile at the sheepish look the man gave her. Things were much more different between them now then when she had been a little girl. There was a side to Vincent she had noticed over the years that was almost childish. Not immature or innocent—hardly so. But instead, he had a playful side that reared its head every now and again. It would be nothing for her visit their estate and to find the man on his back in the sitting room lifting Ciel above his head and making whooshing noises to amuse his son. These thoughts caused Angelina to smile softly. Vincent was wonderful with children. You would expect that, however. He did own his own toy franchise. Loving children came with that territory, didn't it?

Placing her thoughts aside, Angelina turned to address the kettle of water she had set to boil before leaving. She took her time setting up a small tray of tea. By the time Vincent joined her in the kitchen once more, he was mildly surprised. The heat from the fireplace had warmed the area up considerably. With borrowed clothing on his back—that was admittedly a little too tight, but he felt marginally more presentable for a ladies company, he drew himself over towards where the Anne was standing and regarded her for a moment. She was quiet and leaning against one of the counters with a cup in both hands. The woman appeared to be highly distracted by her thoughts, for those scarlet eyes were half lulled behind rogue strands that had fallen down around the sides of her face. Vincent attempted to remind himself not to stare—but it was hard not too. She appeared so serene and relaxed, with the soft glow of the fire playing with the shadows over her features.

He approached her slowly, lifting a hand before he could stop himself, fingers brushing back those wayward strands behind an ear, and drawing her attention to him instantly. The heavy look from those scarlet eyes was intense, and he had the eerie feeling that her thoughts had not changed one bit when he drew her attention. Had she been thinking about him then? Of course—she no doubt wanted to know why the man had ended up on her doorway soaking wet. But could he tell her the true reason why, that he had been out in the country chasing some criminal down in the name of the queen? Would he tell her about the blood on his hands that night, and that the rain had washed the stains away for him? Would he tell her that he had murdered the man not but a few miles from her house? No, he would never do such a thing. Such was not for the innocent ears of his sister-in-law.

He parted his lips slowly, and found them too dry. How long had he been standing here, just staring at her? Angelina seemed to be completely comfortable in the silence that had spread between them. It was almost as if the woman could read his thoughts and had already accepted who he was. "Thank you, Angelina. You've been a most gracious host tonight," he complemented her, watching the woman roll her eyes lightly.

"Oh really Vince, what was I to do? Close the door in your face and leave you in the rain?" The soft tone was teasing, and the woman set her tea onto the silver tray she had prepared. "Come, we will be much more comfortable in the sitting room." Angelina stepped forward, her movements too quick for the earl to move out of her way. Had she intended to brush herself against him as she squeezed around him and the counter? Vincent could still fell the warmth of her body as it slipped by him, and he swallowed slightly. A breath was taken in, and the Earl allowed himself the moment to clear his head. What was wrong with him? He glanced after Angelina, watching her douse the kitchen fire until only smoking embers remained. Grey eyes followed the woman as she picked up the tray she had prepared before the man stepped forward quickly to catch up with the woman.

Angelina had not waited to see if he would follow—no, she had left as quickly as possible. She could feel his gaze on her, and the kitchen had been far too small. The close quarters were starting to become quite stuffy. She took a breath of the cooler air in the hallway, trying to let it sooth the headache she could feel brewing. Being around Vincent lately was becoming increasingly harder. There was a tension building between them—and she couldn't quite identify it. Leaving these thoughts behind her, Angelina stepped into her sitting room, setting the platter down on the side table of a larger chesterfield. She didn't look back to see what Vincent was doing, instead she kneeled by the fire place to repeat the process from earlier in the kitchen.

Vincent was mildly glad the woman wasn't looking, it gave him the time to compose himself. This wasn't how he should be acting. He knew it well. But something about the scarlet woman was enchanting—her movements, her actions, even right down to the very way those blood red eyes regarded him silently—everything about her seemed almost tragic, and yet quite beautiful. Vincent busied himself with making his tea, noticing with amusement Angelina took her own as opposite to his as you could manage. The woman's tea was a creamy white hue, and no doubt sweet. Vincent preferred his own dark and bitter. From the fire place, he heard Angelina speak.
"Tell me, Earl Phantomhive." Her tone was almost teasing; he glanced over to find her sitting upon one of the pillows beside the fire she had brought to life. Don't stare, he reminded himself as he took a breath. "However did you manage to end yourself on my door step in such a manner? What happened to your driver?" she inquired lightly. Vincent smiled slowly, allowing himself to be drawn into the conversation. He joined her by the fire place with two cups, passing the lighter liquid down to the woman as he spoke.

"Well, you know yourself that Rachel and Ciel have gone to visit your aunt in Wales for the weekend. What you didn't know perhaps, was that they're having horrible weather down there. Rachel sent word that their return would be delayed until the weather clears, and I know you were planning on going with her to the grand opening of that new opera in town on her return." Oh, the lies you could weave, Vincent. Your life was nothing but misleading charm and fake smiles. Yet, the woman before you was loyal enough to buy every word you spoke. Vincent ignored the mental voice chastising for the lies, and continued as he settled himself down onto one of the cushions across from the woman. "I decided to come and visit you, but there was a little bit of a problem when the rain started." Vincent sighed softly, and paused in his tale to take a sip of his tea. Over the rim of it he noticed the way Angelina had quirked one eye brow slowly. Ah. Perhaps she was not buying it as well as you thought, Phantomhive. Angelina was much more perceptive then her sister. Where Rachel would smile and nod, clearly the doctor had been irked by something.

"Do excuse me for the observation. But, why would you leave for my estate so late in the evening? The news could have waited until tomorrow." She murmured softly, before continuing. "It only takes two hours, three at the most in bad weather conditions to travel to your estate to here." Angelina pointed this out with a small smirk, the edges of her lips hinting to the fact she had enjoyed catching the man in some kind of lie. Vincent himself did not look amused in the least.

"Are you implying that I am misleading you, Angelina?" Vincent inquired as he set his teacup down onto its saucer.

"Why would you lie to me, brother dearest?" The woman mused, setting her plate and the tea with on it onto the concrete base of the fireplace beside them. She leaned back slowly, relaxing onto the palms of her hands and tilting her head slowly to the side.
"I wouldn't—I have no reason too, my dear." Vincent's smile was reassuring, but Angelina had the feeling he was hiding behind it nervously. "My driver and I became separated on the way here, Angelina. I will be searching for him in the morning." Angelina couldn't help but chuckle softly, earning a blank look from the man.

"Vincent, relax. I believe you," the woman murmured softly, fixing a light hearted smile onto him. "Rain seems to have a way of bringing us together anyway." Angelina added, watching Vincent relax slowly as she changed the subject. Whatever the man was hiding, Angelina would not attack him for it. He would tell her if it was her place to know.

"So tell me then, Angelina, what were you doing up at such an hour?" Vincent inquired, taking another sip of his cooling liquid. He was glad she had changed the subject. It had become far too close for his own tastes. He knew she had picked a hole in his story, and he honestly wasn't sure if he could mislead the woman after the night he had had.

"I couldn't sleep, to be honest," Angelina responded sincerely, looking away from the man and down to the tea that remained.

"Oh?" the Earl ventured, trying to coax the woman to elaborate.

"Ah." Anne seemed to hesitate at this. The reason she hadn't been sleeping was right in front of her. "I was just thinking about the past, is all." This was spoken carefully, and Vincent seemed to notice the diligence she placed in the words.

"What might be so heavy on your heart, to keep you awake until this hour of the morning, Angelina?" The man sounded thoroughly concerned, and Angelina couldn't help but flash back into the past all over again.

"Nothing too serious, I assure you. We'll have to get your clothes dry by the time you're ready to leave in the morning, Vincent. Those are a bit tight on you, aren't they?" The fact Angelina had completely blown off his concern left the man frowning. He peered at her with an expression that clearly voiced the fact he did not appreciate her evasion.

"Angel—" He started.

"No." The woman voiced suddenly, pausing the man to blink with the force behind her voice. "I would much more prefer not to talk about it, Vincent. Respect a lady's decision to keep private things that do not concern nosey brothers-in-law to herself." The sharp tone left Vincent feeling as if he had been verbally slapped. He didn't like the treatment in the least. But more so he worried for what the woman was hiding. Whatever it was had festered over the years.

"I apologize," Vincent voiced suddenly, glancing to the side and into the fire. He wouldn't meet her gaze. "Perhaps it is best if I retire to one of your guest chambers for the night. I do not wish to upset you further." The man murmured this politely, and was already pushing himself to his feet. As if realizing that her sharp tone had hurt the man, Angelina started after him with sadness. She hadn't meant to chase him off—it had been ages since she had the pleasure to enjoy his company this long, just the two of them. She was reluctant for it to end.

"Vincent—" She was on her feet then, reaching after him. Anne caught his arm lightly, and he turned to gaze at her questioningly. "Don't go…I didn't mean to snap at you like that." This was said slowly, and Angelina allowed her eyes to fall to the hardwood flooring. She released his arm slowly and sighed. "Do you remember all those years ago, when you found you me in the garden?" She questioned lightly.

"It was raining that evening too," Vincent murmured softly, indicating that he remembered it well. He stepped closer to the woman, lifting a hand to lightly tilt her head upwards. He kept his hand on her jaw line, and smiled down at her softly. "I shouldn't have pushed you, do not apologize, Angelina." The soft look that was on her face mirrored her expression from all those years ago. Indeed how he remembered. Something important had happened to the woman at that point in her life, and no matter his various attempts to find out later she would never open up. This had been the closest he had come to her voluntarily visiting the subject in years.

"I was thinking about that afternoon, with you." She couldn't believe she was whispering this, but there was something about how close he was standing to her. Something about the way he had been looking at her lately had changed. Something had also changed in his body language. He was standing unbelievably close to her, and his breath was caressing along her face as he smiled down at her. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and was convinced that he could hear it. The way he had lulled his eyes half closed, made her swallow. But nothing could get rid of that lump of emotions in her throat.

"You never did tell me what troubled you that day." The earl murmured softly, his fingers lightly brushing down her throat. Would she tell him? Did he want to know? The faint scent of rosewater and lilac was hanging around her, accompanied by the soft glow of the fire, and the warmth it filled the room with—Vincent was having a hard time concentrating. He only became aware of how close they were when one of Anne's hands lifted to his chest. For a moment he feared she might force him away. But instead she seemed content to hold onto him by it.

"You troubled me, Vincent." This was whispered out so softly, that Vincent had barely heard it. But when he did, the look on her face was enough to make everything side together. He had opened his lips to question her—but found that nothing could pass between them. Not when Angelina had effectively silenced him with her mouth. His eyes widened as he felt her frame press up to his own. The shock had taken him for a few seconds, but his lack of response for those few seconds was enough to cause the woman the pull back with a horrified expression. She was about to apologize, he could feel it; about to string some protective lie to save herself from the pain.

While Angelina's confession was earth shattering to Vincent's little world— more shocking to them both was when the Earl captured her fleeing frame and trapped it up against the fireplace. There he held her melting frame prisoner by the friction of his lips against her own.

[мαdαм]

Chapter 4

The atmosphere of the room was heavy, thick with a raw passion that filled the air boldly through the moon light caressing along the polished hardwood of the sitting room. The rainstorm in the night beyond the room had finished spilling its tears hours earlier, but the elapse of time itself seemed unable to sate the two frames that had found each other in the early morning hours.

The tender caress of softly whispered nothings burned into the creamy flesh along the neck, accented by slender fingers that weaved into scarlet strands. Both cushioning and anchoring the female owning them to the chilled floor underneath. This position offered every advantage to push off of the floor with an elegant arch of the spine, the movement pulling moisture collecting along the skin gliding downwards with gravity.—

Angelina slowly slid her head into her hands, attempting to hide both the flustered expression over her face and the memory itself. Around her she could hear the steady tik-tok of the large grandfather clock stationed in the corner of her office. In the open window beside her desk, with the cheerful screams of children wafting in on the chilly November breeze. In the distance, she could hear the chatter of her secretary with one of the nurses, and the gentle footsteps of someone making their way down the hallway beyond her door. Everything was deafening to her, and yet none of it could distract her.

She could still imagine his touch along her body, and it was with utter dread that she craved to feel it again. Weeks had passed since that night, and Angelina could no longer keep track of the days. They blurred together with an uneasy monotony, and the woman came to realize just how repetitive her life had become. The worst part was no doubt the fact that she had been ignoring the man's various attempts to get in contact with her. She could not find it within herself to face him just yet, to hear what he needed to tell her. Angelina could guess just what those words would be. It was a mistake, it should have never happened. The woman could not find it with herself to hear him say those words. They would break her. As much as loving him with an unrequited silence had hurt, she knew that having him disregard what had happened between them would hurt even more.

Knock, knock. The sudden rap at her office door caused the woman to startle, scarlet eyes peering towards the entrance with confusion. She didn't have any scheduled appointments, and it was extremely rare to have any of her colleges visit. The majority of them were males, and thus looked down on her. Angelina pulled herself to her feet slowly, taking a few seconds to compose herself before crossing to the door. The instant she pulled the heavy oak door open, she regretted the decision—but she couldn't very well slam the door shut again and ignore her visitor, could she? The idea was tempting, but it was all Angelina could do to keep from staring.

"V-Vincent, what a pleasant surprise." The tone of her voice was shaky, and if that alone did not clue him in to the fact it wasn't pleasant at all- the fact she drew back from the door very quickly was.

"Angelina…" The earl voiced softly, stepping into the office slowly and closing the door behind him with a soft 'click'. Those grey eyes slid over her office slowly, and he would notice it looked every bit as professional as he had imagined. His sister-in-law held her job with a great importance—and as she should. Her success in achieving the status had taken sheer determination. "You've been avoiding me, and we need to talk…" Vincent turned his eyes back towards the woman. Her nervous behaviour was out of character, and yet he knew exactly how she felt. Years of them lying to each other built up until it exploded—and what an explosion it had been. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I have…" Angelina agreed, looking away from the Earl and towards the open window quietly. "…but what else was I going to do?" The scarlet woman voiced, training her voice to remain steady, forcing away the anxiety that was welding up around her. She knew this was coming, but that didn't help her be prepared for it.

"Angelina I know this is hard but—" He never got to finish. Instead he was met with a fiery expression, and found himself mildly alarmed by the look her features.

"Hard, Vincent? You know this is hard?" She threw back at him, irritated by his poor choice of words. "What do you know about how hard this has been for me?' She rounded on him, those scarlet eyes pinning him with the hurt and guilt with in them. Vincent realised then, that he didn't know. He in fact knew very little. He had always thought of her as a beautiful young woman, and, yes. He had thought of marrying her instead of Rachel—he didn't regret his choice in the least. But standing here facing such a fiery woman. The earl wish he could go back and tell himself what he knew now.

"I don't…" Vincent voiced weakly. "...this entire thing has been completely my fault. I should never have—" Again, he was interrupted.

"Never should have what, Vincent? Teased me? Never should have looked at me with those lingering expressions?" Anne was advancing on him now, and her finger was shoving roughly into his chest. He looked down at with a lost expression—but she just kept coming at him. "Never should have given me the best night of my life?" She gripped his jacket lightly, shaking his body. "I've loved you for over fifteen years, Vincent. You have no idea how hard it's been for me." She sneered this at him for a second—before her face contracted with surprise. She'd said it. She had actually told him. She recoiled back from him suddenly, and Vincent felt the remains of his world fall down around him. Fifteen….years? All this time?

"Anne—I never knew—"

"Get out." She whispered softly.

"Anne—"

"GET OUT." She hissed at him, turning away to press her hands to her desk. She was shaking slightly. This wasn't how it was suppose to go. Tears found themselves in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. For a moment nothing but silence spanned between them, and she became startled with two arms wrapped around her waist. She could feel Vincent's frame pressing up against her back. She turned, placing her hands on his chest with every intention to push him away—but instead she found herself gazing into those grey eyes. They were filled with guilt and regret, but most startling of all was how moist they looked. As if the man was very close to shedding a few tears. Very slowly she bowed her head. It was impossible to mad at him. Instead she rested her head to his chest, and allowed him to pull her closer.

"No." The earl whispered gently to her ear. "I won't leave you alone again." It wasn't right. It just wasn't fair—how could she love someone so much, that she could never have? How had they fallen into this messy affair? The word made Angelina realise how disgusting this was. She was a mistress, an adulteress, and a shame on her entire family. But as she felt Vincent bow his head to press a kiss into her scarlet hair—she realised she had a piece of him now. It was a small sliver of him, and a part she could never share. But the man had seen enough in her to risk his happy little marriage, hadn't he? Had he come here to tell her this? Or had her little explosion shown him how much she lived for him?

The tears that welled up in her eyes slowly slipped free, and her heart shuddered as she felt his lips make a path down over her cheeks. Why? Vincent could taste those tears, feel her frame shivering against his own. How had it come to this? How had be failed so magnificently at his duty as a man? How had he managed to utterly destroy the life of a woman who had spent over a decade loving him? Slowly, the earl coaxed the woman to sit with him on the crimson chaise lounge that flanked the corner of her office. Often used for distressed mothers to lie on, it was now used for a distressed doctor.

With a free hand, he captured the side of her cheek, turning her to look at him as he leaned closer to her. He could smell that soft scent of rosewater and jasmine that seemed to be weaved into her clothing. The scent had haunted him for the last few weeks, and finally having the source beside him was relaxing. But yet he could not feel content. Not with the scarlet eyes that look up at him, and the weight they caused to settle on his chest. The tears he had kissed away returned with a vengeance, and the Earl was truly at a loss for what to do or say. He had caused all these bottled emotions of hers to come free, and it would be very rude of him to not help her deal with them. "Anne… I can not change the past, and while I can apologize for my actions… I know it is not the apology that will ease your heart." He murmured this softly, a nervous feeling settled into his stomach. The more he thought about this, the more he realised he knew exactly what would ease her pain. But could he do that? Would Anne allow him to risk everything? Could he justify easing the pain of his sister in law, and risk hurting his wife? The man slid his eyes closed, feeling terribly conflicted. He already lived one secret life—could he hide another from everyone? Would Anne want to be kept a secret?

"Vincent… I-I've lived with this for years, you don't need to apologize-" She started, but found a finger pressing to her lips.

"You shouldn't have had to." He whispered out gently.

"I have, and I will continue to live with it. This is my issue, Vincent, I never meant for you to find out. You shouldn't concern yourself with-"

"Angel… This isn't just something you need to live with." The earl interrupted, lightly tracing his finger down her cheek. What are you doing, Vincent? This isn't what you came here to tell her. He hesitated, thinking briefly about how this would break Rachel if she ever found out. "I need to live with it as well." The earl continued, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that was arguing with him. "I need to live with the fact I love you too." His own reputation was on the line with this, but how could he value his political standing over Anne? He would cross those bridges when he came to them. For now, he would lightly caress his fingers up to cup the side of her cheek—watching the blank expression over the woman's features. Clearly this was not what Angelina was expecting him to say—for it took her several seconds to respond. When she did, all she seemed to be able to do was stare at him with disbelief.

"You…" Anne's first attempt at sentence failed, and it was the mixture of relief, anger, and anxiety that filled her. He loved her? He actually… cares that much for her? He was married to Rachel. But he loved her? The words she had dreamed of hearing were much bitterer then she had imagined. In fact they were very painful. The woman looked away from him sharply, and placed a hand on his chest; trying in vain to push him away. "…you should leave, Vincent." Her words left the man blinking. He had just opened his heart to her, and she was shoving him away?

"Anne, I don't understand—"

"What isn't there to understand? You should leave."

"I thought…"

"You thought what? You could just waltz in here tell me I wanted to hear and sweep me off my feet?" The woman accused, tightening her fists into his clothing. "I didn't think you were so careless, Vincent. I really didn't. We're both married. We each have other responsibilities in our lives. Do you think I want to risk everything I've built, just because you feel guilty? You missed your chance to have me, Vincent."

These words left Vincent very quiet. She was right, and the fact he had actually tried to convince her to continue this with him—it made him feel very disgusted at himself. He pulled back from her slowly, suddenly seeming to realise how close he had become to her; nearly pinning her back against the arm of the chaise. He looked away from her awkwardly, and lifted a hand to idly fix the caret at his throat. What could he say to that? With a chilly resolve settled in his stomach, the man pulled himself to his feet slowly. Anne stood beside him, and very lightly she pushed him towards the door.

It was better this way. He decided while tightening his fingers around door handle. At least Angelina need not suffer her love alone now—she knew his feelings for her. Hoping that it would offer some sort of solace, he allowed one last fleeting glance towards the woman. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but found that his throat was far too dry. The look her face was heart breaking. It was as if she had expected him not have looked back. He hesitated, reached out to lightly brush his fingers down her cheek.

"You're stronger then I, Angel." He whispered out, watching as she leaned into his touch. She was memorizing the feel, he could tell; as she expected never to be touched again. Those bright red eyes lulled slightly, and he found himself frozen. Turn and open the door, Vincent. But he remained where he was standing, trying to mask the expression on his face. He didn't want her to see his emotions; he didn't want to make this even harder on her. The man slid his eyes closed for a few seconds, before opening them slowly. He doubted he would ever forget the look of despair and longing in those scarlet eyes. He would never forget their night together, and the feeling of holding her close. It was as he leaned towards her, that he realized he didn't want to forget. Grey eyes opened, and the man found himself a breaths length from her. Her eyes had opened, and she looked alarmed at how close he had become again. The door handle was released, and the Earl pulled the woman closer to him and tilted his head. He kissed her before she could argue- before she could push him away. The kiss was a gentle caress, chaste in its honest emotion. Anne struggled for a few seconds, but with a soft groan she yielded to his touch and snaked her arms up around his neck. Infuriating man.

By the time he had pulled back, she was leaning into him for support, those scarlet eyes peering up at him with a flustered expression. Vincent wasn't making this easy for her in the least. "Do you have a busy schedule today?" The earl inquired, and Anne thought fleetingly about the paperwork that was building up on the corner of her desk.

"Not particularly…" Anne said at length.

"Would you be interested in accompanying me tonight?" He sounded hopeful.

"That depends…What exactly are you attending?" Anne ventured, she sounded hesitant. Still resisting his charm, it would seem.

"A banquette followed by an auction, the proceeds are being donated to the local orphanage, to fund the renovations for their new building." The offer was innocent, and Anne considered it for a moment before sighing.A charitable cause, none would think twice about an obstetric surgeon attending the event.

"I'd be honoured to accompany you." She murmured softly, unable to keep the small smile from pulling her lips upwards. Vincent seemed pleased, and another fleeting kiss was pressed to the woman's lips. This was surreal—how could this have happened? Despite the complications behind everything, the man she had loved for years was standing here in her arms. When he pulled back, his breath slid over her skin—and she was reminded of their night together. Goosebumps spread over her arms, and she swallowed. "However, I'll need to finish my consult reports." She murmured, as if hinting to the fact the man should take his leave now. Even though she had asked him to leave twice now.

"Are you telling me to get out again?" Vincent teased, watching the sheepish expression over the woman's face. It was refreshing to see her smile—too many tears had been shed by her lately. "I'll leave you to your work then. Shall I pick you up at your estate by seven o'clock?" His fingers were running gently up over her back, and Anne wanted nothing better then to just melt into his arms for hours. Alas—she was at work. And work needed to be done.

"That would be perfect, thank you." Anne voiced softly, hesitating before she leaned up to kiss him gently. The touch was ever so brief, before she quickly pulled back and nudged him towards the door. "Off with you, before I make you stay."

"You wouldn't get much work then." Vincent commented with a sly expression—and it caused Anne to choke. With red cheeks she gave the man a forceful shove towards her door. It was all Vincent could do to keep from laughing as he pulled back from her and turned to open the door. He paused in the doorway, glancing around the hallway briefly to confirm the fact it was empty. Turning back, he opened his mouth to say something but was met with a door swinging towards him. Startled, he jumped back from it with a sharp "Hey!"

"Hay, dear Vincent is for horses. Have a good day." Angelina could be heard voicing loudly, leaving Vincent to frown at the door. Imagine—the woman had literally thrown him out and slammed the door. Ahh, but it was it not that fierce attitude that he loved? Smiling softly he turned and made his way down the hallway.

[мαdαм]

Chapter 5

It was seven o'clock sharp, and Angelina would be found with her hand clasping her necklace tightly; the cold ruby settling itself between the valley of breasts. Anne stepped back from the mirror, admiring the shade of scarlet that adorned her frame. It was a sweeping gown that was tailored to fit against her hips and then explode into a mass of lace of ribbons along her slender legs. The low cut front gave a tempting view of her cleavage, and left little to imagination. She smoothed non-existent wrinkles away, and for the hundredth time that night tried to convince her self this was appropriate. She slid her eyes closed, and sighed slowly. She couldn't lie to her self forever, but she could try.

A knock sounded off of the chamber door! One of her maids poked her head around the frame to inform her that 'Lord Phantomhive' was here. Angelina acknowledged with a single nod of her head before turning away to study her image one final time. Taking a breath for strength, the woman set out for what would be the longest night of her life. With a purse in arm and the feather tipped edge of her fan nestled against her gloved fingers, Anne left the safety of her room. Her heels sounded sharply off of the wood flooring, echoing after her and along the corridor. Many thoughts filled the woman’s head but few painted her expression. All of those thoughts revolved around her situation with him. The one man she wanted nothing to do with. Yet she headed towards him like her path was death row, dreading the moment she cleared the top of her stairwell and gazed down at the foyer.

Angelina continued if only so as not loose face in the company of her servants. The soft steps of her maid in toe behind her, huffing with the weight of Anne’s jacket loaded in her arms. The young maid was barely of age to work, but was the daughter of her chef and Angelina had been happy to help the family out by employing their child. But the little girl was mighty intuitive, and sharp as a thistle. Anne held her breath; waiting for the comment she knew was coming. Sheryl could never keep her mouth shut.
"Miss?" The maid inquired softly, readjusting her mistress's jacket in her arms to keep it from wrinkling. "You seem mighty quiet tonight-- are you well?" Anne could only smile weakly at the concern.
"I'm fine, Sherry. Just a little tired, we were short staffed at work today." The smooth lie slid off of Angelina's tongue like she had said it many times before. "I don't plan on being out late. So please leave the fire in my study burning low? Also, tell Mr. Thatcher that while I appreciate the beauty of nature, his rose bushes are starting to look like trees in the gardens. Get him to trim them down a bit, and add the roses to my study, and some to my room. You can take a few for your mother as well." She glanced over her shoulder offering the young girl a smile. Sheryl admitted defeat for this round, and bowed her head politely.
"The mistress is a kind as ever," The girl uttered softly.

Angelina paused upon reaching the banister, but it was not for the charming view of her heart’s desire. While it was a wonderful view of Vincent, it was the sight of her husband at the foot of the stairs in a seemingly deep conversation with the earl that troubled her. A mental groan sounded in her head, before she took a breath to steady her self. Painting an expression of interest across her face, the woman descended down the stairs with her fingertips resting along the wooden rail.

"Ahh, my two favourite gentlemen," Angelina purred out softly, coming to rest on the final stair behind them. "Sharing secrets are we? You know how I feel about that." She teased them both, keeping a mirthful expression painted over her red lips. While her eyes found Vincent for a second, he merely smiled and glanced to her husband.
"While a good portion of the world does revolve around you, dear Anne, not all of it does," Vince commented with a dry amusement, before glancing back to the Baron before him. "Nathan and I were just discussing the unfortunate business concerning of the Mayor's wife-- such a shame really. Poor Charles, I doubt he'll be the same with Lydia gone now." Vince continued, watching the Baron glance to his wife.
"Mmm, I don't know about Charles, but I do how it feels to have your wife running off without you." The grin her husband made caused Angelina fight the urge to wince. Surely Nathan hadn't figured it out... "No fears though! Vincent may steal you for tonight, I can share." Share indeed, Angelina thought. Share indeed. What else are you sharing around dear Nathan? It’s difficult to share something you never owned. The thought wondered through Anne's mind bitterly as she laughed softly, and leaned up to kiss her husband lightly on the cheek. Her lips burned afterwards, and yet her expression stayed content.
"Thank you for letting me go out to play." She voiced with a sarcastic drawl before pulling back and slipping around the man to join Vincent on the floor level.
"Steal?" Vincent voiced, looking mildly entertained. "I should hope that Angelina is quite willing. I would feel ever so bad for placing her in a position she did not desire to be in." Those storm grey eyes slide towards Anne, and the woman so very badly wanted to gouge them out right now.
"As much as I am enjoying this inspiring battle of vocabulary-- Vincent, we're going to be late. This function was your idea." Anne voiced this lightly, and moulded a mildly impatient look upon her face. "I am doing you quite the service by accompanying you-- the least you could do is make sure we arrive on time." She chastised him, and the earl sighed softly at her tone.
"Very well, very well. It was nice seeing you again, Nathan." No sooner had the words left his mouth, and Angelina was slipping her coat on with the assistance of her maid. Polite good byes were exchanged, before the Earl helped his companion into his carriage. Anne paused on the step, glancing back towards her manor. Such a glorious view, even in the early winter months. She caught the candle burning in one of the upper rooms, and her lip curled with an almost bitter smile. Ducking her head the woman vanished into the carriage. She knew what that candle meant.

Minutes passed and the cold leather of the seats was eating through the thin layers of her gown and coat. Anne resisted the urge to press into the only available heat source. The man beside her was quiet, and she was more then happy to keep the tension between them. It fed silence and that silence kept her emotions in check. Vince was the first to speak, and when he did a hand on her knee drew her attention to him.
"Angelina..." He started quietly, keeping his voice low to avoid the ears of his driver. But before he could speak, her finger pressed to his lips.
"I know, and you don't need to say anything about it." she voiced softly, watching his eyebrows lift upwards slowly.
"Do you?" He spoke around the finger, and she swallowed slowly.
"Yes-- you want to talk about us." She watched those lips frown slowly, and it’s enough confirmation that she was right. "And honestly, Its alright, Vince. You have a wife, and a wonderful child. You don't need to get mixed up in this and risk--" Her voice died off slowly as she felt a pressure against her finger and she re-directed attention to the fact he was now biting at her. Her breath caught in her throat and her concentration was distracted completely. When her finger was released the man moved in closer to her to capture her chin in two fingers. His thumb lightly stroked her flesh, and his breath brushed her cheek slowly.
"I am well aware of my life and its demands, Angelina. But the grass is always greener on the other side of the story. Rachel is a delicate woman; there is only so much of my life I can tell her." Vincent’s voice was low and quiet enough so that only the woman inches from him may hear it.
"I don't understand--" Angelina's comment was hushed by a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. She was taken by surprise and any ability to reply was lost. Bastard.

"You will in time. But not right away. There is only so much I can tell you, but I need to know you trust me." His words left her in silence, and Anne studied those grey eyes of his. She watched the emotions play through them with a weak smile. Anne was not ignorant of the fact he had many secrets. The woman spent many long years watching him, and in her longing she had noticed things. She could see when he left at a minutes notice from any events he attended, no matter to if they are as important as his son’s own birthday. Even in the middle of the night he got called away. Rachel might be quiet enough to mind her own business, but Angelina was not a quiet woman. She feared what his secrets are, and how they might ruin her mental image of him. She was frightened of the thought that she has only loved a mask, and the true him was nothing worth her time and effort.

She was left troubled by this resolution; but when she toke a breath and focused her attention she saw something else. There was a man who is searching for something that his life has not given him on its own. The longing in his expression caused her heart to tighten and painted her face with a gentle expression. Gloved fingers lifted to trace the side of his cheek and she kept her voice soft as she spoke. "I trust you, Vincent. With my life..." she paused. "...and heart. But I am still concerned about what we're doing..." There is a moment of relief on his face, before he offered her a smile. That damn charming expression.

"I would not love you, if it wasn't for that thoughtful attitude of yours, Anne." His voice was like a knife through butter, melting between her fingers as she stroked his cheeks. It’s unfathomable how this man could control her. She doubted he has any idea just how much he affects her. "Well... perhaps that is not the whole truth." Vincent adds thoughtfully, tilting his head into the fingers that cradle him to her. "You do have a certain... untamed and bold air about you." He paused while seeking the correct word. "Independence." She couldn't help but smile, risking the chill of the air as she pulled her glove from her hand.

"...and this independence attracts you, does it?" Angelina inquired, threading her polished nails through his ashen hair, watching as strands stuck up in odd positions. Oops.
"Like a moth to a flame." He breathed this out softly, and Angelina became captured by the energy along his tongue. Warmth crept up over her cheeks at the expression in those soft grey eyes, and she swallowed.
"You should be careful... fire can burn," She whispered.
"...you already wreak havoc on me, my dear Angel." The honesty in his voice was startling, and Anne found herself unable to hold his gaze. Her cheeks were a bright shade of red that seemed to rival with her hair now. His ability to make her feel like a 16 year old girl was uncanny. She wondered if he practices.

His lips found hers before she can speak again-- she was thankful for the distraction. The kiss was slow and well measured; Anne could feel his fingers running up to hold the back of her head. She leaned into him, a gentle noise in the back of her throat coaxing him to pull her closer. The calculated response lost its planned accuracy under her influence. It surprised her when he plucks her frame from the seat all together, and hauled her into his lap. His warmth pressed to her front, and she found his fingers weaving into the material of her dress to keep her stationed against him. Angelina didn’t mind the frisky action in the least! The woman’s fingers trailed up to weave behind his head, almost clinging to him.

When they parted, it was with mirth that she traced a finger against his now stained lips. "What a lovely shade on you." She teased him, watching his cheeks darken slightly. He was clearly perplexed by his own inability to keep his hands to himself. Perhaps, Anne decided, he felt just as young and foolish as her. She plucked her handkerchief from her pocket, and slowly dampened the end of it with her tongue. Like a mother would wash away a stain, she worked the cloth against his mouth despite his protests. She tucked the cloth back into a pocket, and pulled a comb from her bag. He further grumbled as she sooths his hair back into place. "Hush now, you'll look presentable on my arm." It wasn't a suggestion, it was a demand.

Once primped him back into perfection, she nestled herself against his chest. Vince seemed surprised by this, having waited for her to remove herself. Secretly he was pleased, and tightened his arms around her slender waist. He pressed a kiss into Anne's hair, and he contently held the woman for the remainder of their ride. They speak softly from here on in on trivial things to pass the time, each solid in their belief that this could last forever. That it needed to last forever.