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James was not altogether shocked to finally stumble upon Clinton brooding in Stark’s cavernous library once the party had turned to never-ending rounds of cards and drink, but he was rightly flabbergasted to find him holed up in an armchair far in the back, shrouded in shadows rather than sat by the soft light of the fire, and nursing a generous glass of brandy all his own.
“Darling?” James hazarded the informal address only because they were completely alone, not even a servant lurking nearby with a duster. Clinton always got a bit antsy when James managed to slip close enough to whisper it in his ear when there were others about who might overhear, but there was nothing for Clinton to object to with James using it right then, especially with Clinton looking so much unlike himself and in need of every comfort James might be able to grant him. “Are you alright?”
Clinton did not answer right away, though he also did not startle at James’ presence, so he moved forward slowly and took up a place at the end of the stacks nearest Clinton, leaning back against the shelves and waiting patiently for Clinton to sort through his thoughts as he gazed down at the swirling liquid in the finely-crafted snifter. Finally, throwing back a hefty swallow of brandy first, Clinton said, “I hear congratulations are in order.”
“Are they?” James replied, his tone overly light to combat Clinton’s uncommonly somber one. “Well, you certainly do not seem enthused to be passing them along.”
“You’re due to offer Lady Romanov a proposal any day now, have you not heard?” Clinton muttered into his glass. He still had yet to look up and actually meet James’s eye. “You two are positively the talk of the ton.”
Rolling his eyes heavenward, James pushed away from the shelves and sauntered straight up to where he wanted to be, perched on the arm of Clinton’s chair, his arm just barely brushing James’s side by virtue of the position. “Honestly, I’ve danced with her, what, mayhaps twice this entire season?” James said with an exasperated sigh.
“More than enough to get tongues wagging.” Clinton’s voice held the edge of a growl around it, a sure sign that his temper was flaring, and while James was flattered that Clinton found him worthy of growing jealous over, he should have known well by now that he was the sole, uncontested champion in the arena of James’s affections.
“I dance with you at least twice a night,” James pointed out with a telling look, “And they’ve never had a word to say about that.”
“Well, that’s only to be expected, of course,” Clinton replied bitterly, his grip around the snifter tightening worryingly. “Who would ever notice your attentions being paid to the second son of a lowly baron who managed to gamble away all his lands and wealth? I’m hardly a good match.” Finishing off what remained in the glass with a swift toss-back of his head, Clinton continued lowly, his country-grown accent creeping back in as it often did when he spoke without actually meaning to, “Not even a decent match, me.”
Leaning over so that he could wrap his hands snug around Clinton’s face and force their eyes to finally meet, James said, “And yet, you are the only match I’ve an interest in.”
With a disgruntled huff, Clinton twisted out of his grip and finally abandoned his glass to the side table with a touch too much force so that it wobbled for a worrying moment before settling. Scowling, Clinton pushed himself up from the chair and stalked across the seating area with distinct purpose but little payoff, given the plush carpet beneath his feet softened any attempts at stomping. “This is a serious matter, Lord Barnes,” Clinton bit out once he’d judged himself far enough away to be safe to round back on James and address him. “And I would appreciate it greatly if you would treat it as such.”
“I am,” James insisted, standing now as well. His expression, though, did little to prove the determination behind the statement, given that he was helpless to stop a smile from sneaking across his lips with the picture Clinton in a tiff made, his hair askew and cheeks flushed. “There is nothing I take more seriously than my regard for you.”
“That hardly matters when choosing a spouse--”
“It matters to me,” James cut in, unwilling to let Clinton get a foot in the door when it came to this particular argument and defense. “I will have no one but you for my spouse, no matter what anyone else may have to say about it!”
Hands staunchly planted on his hips, Clinton leveled a look James’s way that spoke volumes of what Clinton would say about James’s naiveté if only he had the words to properly convey those sentiments.
James let his head fall forward to hang in a short-lived moment of defeat as he came to the decision to throw away all his carefully laid plans he’d yet to even set in motion, cursed as ever by the speed with which news, true or false, traveled in Society. With a bracing sigh, James lifted his head and reached a hand up to dig out the small bit of gold he’d been walking about with in his breast pocket, keeping it as close to his heart as he wished to keep Clinton, always and forever.
“I daresay these latest rumors have sprung up because I was spotted, despite my best efforts to avoid notice, picking this up from the jeweler’s last week.” He slowly uncurled his fingers to reveal the ring to Clinton, the sheen of the metal catching every spare bit of light flickering in the room to set it faintly aglow.
Clinton gasped, though it was not with the edge of elation James had been hoping to hear. After a few stuttering stops, Clinton finally managed to say, “You--surely you jest! You can’t want to marry me!”
“I think you will find, darling,” James said, crossing the room and crowding Clinton close. “That I very much can, and not only that, but I very much do.”
He held the ring up between them, clasped lightly between two fingers, and watched in rapt fascination as Clinton’s gaze bounced back and forth from it to James’s face, an awe-filled smile slowly transforming his mien before he laughed--a joyous, relief-filled sound of utter happiness--and leant across James’s hand and the ring to press a kiss to James’s lips that stole all his sense and left him floating high in the clouds, soon to become the very happiest of men on this Earth.