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Having returned late in the night, Klaus felt rudely awaked with a sudden pounding on his bedroom door. "Nik!" a small voice called from the corridor. "It's time for breakfast."
He hauled himself out of bed, rubbing his tired eyes as he opened the door to find an excited Henrik waiting for him. "Mate, I've barely gotten any sleep. I promise, I'll spend some time with you this afternoon."
"Master Niklaus," their butler Andrew interjected, easing himself into view behind Henrik's bouncing form. "Lady Mikaelson specifically requested your presence in the dining room."
Sighing, Klaus gave a reluctant nod. "Thank you, Andrew, I shall be dressed shortly."
Esther Mikaelson had summoned her errant son to their country home where she was enjoying the holiday with Rebekah and Henrik. While Klaus usually enjoyed the time with his younger siblings, he hadn't really looked forward to hearing the grisly details of preparing for Rebekah's first season. It was well known that the only Mikaelson daughter would be a wealthy catch, and Klaus didn't relish the kind of attention his baby sister might attract in her hunt for a husband.
Worse, Klaus risked his mother's ambitious eye falling to his own unmarried status. A third son without a title needed more effort than he was willing to expend on finding a rich wife, but he had been fortunate to be recognized as his birth father's heir a few years before. Marriage suddenly wasn't a necessity to maintain his lifestyle, and he enjoyed the chance to learn his father's merchant business throughout the continent during that time.
It appeared, however, that his luck had run out. Esther likely already had a few candidates for his consideration; she would invite them to dinners throughout the holiday for interrogation of their prospects, Klaus was sure.
He trudged down the stairs to meet his fate of heavy expectation, only to bump into a smaller body as he rounded the corner toward the kitchen. Linens burst from a girl's grasp as she fell to the ground, her servant's uniform crumpling beneath her. "Damn the world," she muttered quietly, though not quietly enough.
Klaus's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the American accent. "You're a new face," he realized, watching her gather the linens with a jerk.
"And you're rude," she napped as she stood, though she paled at the sight of his fine clothing. Embarrassment then flooded her cheeks with a deep flush. "Pardon me, sir, I thought the family was gathered for breakfast. I apologize for speaking out of turn."
She was a pretty thing, and Klaus greedily tracked her blush down the neck of her plain dress. "No harm done, love," he winked. "In fact, a little frankness would go far in this household. I am surprised my mother would hire one so bold, though."
"Caroline is still learning," the cold voice of his mother noted from the end of the hall. Esther shrewdly watched as Klaus stepped away from the young maid. "Those linens are hardly suitable for the beds now, dear. Please take them back to the laundry and try again."
Klaus watched as the girl - Caroline - wilted in front of him at his mother's admonishment. Her head dropped to her chest and she sank into a small curtsy before shuffling away as quickly as she had appeared.
With an imperious cluck, Esther turned on him. "I will not have you charming the help, Niklaus," she chided. "They tend to think a pretty smile enough to rise from their station, and Caroline is hardly subordinate as it is. Don't encourage her."
Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Klaus nodded and followed his mother into the dining room. He wondered how she managed to offend her sensibilities enough to still hire an impertinent American, but knew better than to press the issue. It was early, and he just wanted some food.
He looked back, though, just catching sight of the maid as she turned the corner.
Caroline. Her name was Caroline.
Slamming the door, Klaus shut himself in the library with an angry huff. Esther had taken it upon herself to parade a number of society's eligible daughters during tea; he had barely been home a day before his mother's marriage agenda raised its ugly head again.
"Did you need something, sir?"
Klaus turned around to find Caroline breathing hard, the duster she had probably been using on the bookshelves raised in defense. He raised an eyebrow at her tone of annoyance. "I didn't mean to startle you, love."
"But you did," she retorted, finally relaxing from her stiff pose. "And don't call me 'love.' Lady Mikaelson hates me as it is, I would appreciate you not contributing to her negative perception by using terms of endearment."
With a wicked smirk, Klaus leaned back against the door. "You're endearing, I can't help it," he said. His smile grew when a familiar pink crept into her cheeks. Commenting upon it would probably just irritate her further, however. "Tell me, why did my mother hire you despite her bad opinion? I'm curious."
Caroline scoffed and went about her duties, turning her back on him to continue dusting the books. "I don't see how that's any business of yours."
Sitting himself in one of the armchairs, he just watched her flit about the room. "Denying me the story won't make me any less curious, love."
"Yet I have no intention of sharing it with you," she snapped. Frustrated, she whirled around to face him. "Shouldn't you be meeting your future wife in the sitting room? I was told to polish the silver tea service within an inch of its life."
Klaus tugged at the collar of his shirt, suddenly uncomfortable with her direct and unflinching gaze. "Mother presumes too much about what my life should look like," he coughed.
"It must be nice to refuse your family circumstances."
The comment was wistful, though no less accusing. Klaus narrowed his eyes. "It was your family, then. That led to you working here?"
Blinking, Caroline seemed unable to find the right words to respond. She was saved from answering by Henrik running into the room.
"Nik, Bekah won't play with me."
"Sisters are like that," Klaus sighed toward the put out eight-year-old. Leaning forward, he nudged the boy's chin. "I'll be up in a minute."
Henrik brightened immediately, more so when he noticed Caroline watching from the corner. "Caroline, are you coming, too?"
She smiled far more warmly than Klaus had seen from her. "I still have duties to finish," she reminded gently.
"Okay," he shrugged before running back out of the room as the adults watched.
The silence left behind grew tense the longer it went on. Caroline blushed when she realized Klaus had turned his knowing eyes back on her. "Stop it."
Smiling, Klaus shook his head. "I'm not sure I can."
Caroline bit her lip, trying to hide an incredulous smile herself. "Henrik is a sweet child, and it helps to have one welcoming face in the house," she explained.
He wanted to ask why, the question burning on his tongue as to how she fell under his mother's thumb. It was fitting that the woman herself appeared in the threshold where Henrik had left the door open.
"Niklaus, you have left Miss Pierce waiting for too long. Please stop disrupting Caroline's work and return to the sitting room with me," Esther ordered.
With an imploring arch of her eyebrow, Caroline busied herself with the books under Esther's watchful eye. Klaus's head rolled as he stood. "Yes, Mother."
This time when he left, though, it was with a commiserating glance he was pleased to see Caroline return.
Since that day, Klaus found himself collecting small pieces of Caroline's regard. She seemed to want nothing from him, a pure relief for Klaus with each new woman his mother paraded into the house. But with each interaction she caught him having with Henrik, he earned a smile. Every remonstrance of his sister's terrible manners bought him a nod of approval. Once, an eyeroll at his mother's antics elicited an actual giggle from the usually austere maid.
She was an attractive girl, but Klaus found himself drawn to her wit and humor in the rare glimpses she granted over the weeks. Despite his mother's apparent dislike and her own reticence in speaking to him, Caroline was an altogether engaging presence for Klaus. His sketchbooks were proof of that, as he found himself shading the blush of her cheeks more often than not.
Weeks of this growing fascination festered in his mind; it would be his only excuse for what happened that night.
His older brother Elijah was in residence, and they had agreed to visit the modest gentlemen's club in the nearby town. Returning late to the Mikaelson manor, Klaus had clumsily made his way to the kitchens for a bit of bread before going to sleep. It was there, he happened upon the blonde angel plaguing his thoughts as he drank all night. "Hello, Caroline."
Caroline jumped, and he greedily took in the edges of the dark robe where the flimsy fabric of her nightgown were revealed. "I thought you were out for the evening," she said, clutching a hand to her chest.
Feeling drunk on more than the alcohol, Klaus leaned in toward her. "I was," he whispered conspiratorially. He frowned, noting the loose curls lying about her shoulders. "Your hair is down." Klaus reverently picked up a strand to rub between his fingers. "I like your hair down."
Her lips parted in surprise as she swayed forward automatically. "You're drunk."
"You're blushing," he smirked, raising a finger to trace along her cheek. "I've wondered how far it goes."
He didn't mean to say it. Truly, the demons that often encouraged his darker thoughts and desires must have taken control in his weakened state. No stranger to female companionship, even Klaus knew better than to proposition a woman in his family's employ. It was crass, inappropriate-
"Quite far, I'm afraid," Caroline answered, unabashed. "Like most young ladies of ambitious birth, I was raised to protect my fair skin from the sun. Perhaps it makes for a pretty portrait, but I flush red at a moment's notice."
Klaus smiled. "I thought you would swat me like a child for saying it."
"I still might," she warned with a strange gleam in her eyes, "but you've been kind to me. And I like the way you look at me. Now, I know what you've been thinking while you do." Pointing to the table, she ushered him to sit down. "I was warming some milk to help me sleep. Would you like some?"
He nodded, trying not to seem too eager. "What did you mean, 'ambitious birth'? I've yet to sort out your story."
Pressing her lips together, Caroline shrugged. "My father was an industrialist back home in Virginia, and Lord Mikaelson recruited him to do something with his factories in London. Our American society life was far different than what we found here, but my father tried to give me the best he could offer. Unfortunately, he died before I could find an advantageous marriage to establish a strong home. I was left alone in a strange city, and Lord Mikaelson took pity on me."
"Mikael doesn't take pity," Klaus snorted, almost missing the deep red flush of mortification as she turned away. A deep horror filled him. "Caroline?"
"It wasn't like that," she reassured weakly. "I was more like an art piece to him, a possession to be hoarded and hidden away. When your mother visited, however, she insisted I be brought to this estate to serve her directly. She didn't trust me to stay in London with Lord Mikaelson."
His hands curled tightly into fists, the puzzle of his mother's animosity toward Caroline. She saw the young woman as an enemy, not the victim of her vile husband's atrocious behavior. Caroline deserved so much better than what they gave her, he wanted-
"I'm leaving tomorrow," he remembered, the very reason Elijah had coerced him into a night out. All at once, the solution seemed abundantly clear. "I'm returning home to London. Come with me."
She let out a bitter laugh. "No, thank you," she sighed. "Lady Mikaelson might be cold, but I much prefer this estate."
"No, love," he said, reaching for her hand. It was a break in tradition for them, an intimacy Klaus realized he had been craving for a long while. "We'll go to my home, you'll never have to work for them again."
"I don't want to work for you either," she spat as she tugged her hand away. "Master Mikaelson-"
"Klaus."
"Master Mikaelson, this fascination you have with seducing a servant at a disadvantage-"
Klaus reared back as though burned. "Is that what you think I'm offering?"
"What else could you be offering?" she asked, her curls floating wildly as she shook her head. "I've heard more than enough stories about the help being 'promoted' to mistress, and I barely escaped that fate already. As kind and handsome as you are, I am no one's mistress to be secretly kept as a pet."
"Do you really think so low of me?" The question was quiet, miserable. "I don't want you as a pet, love." It was insane, but he felt compelled to take it even further. "Marry me."
Once again, her mouth fell open without words. For a long moment, he watched her gather the thoughts flying in her head. "You have lost your mind," she finally said. "You're drunk, you don't know what you're saying."
He stood to reach for her wrists, gently grasping them when she tried to pace the kitchen. "Will you marry me?"
"You have plenty of eligible women begging to marry you-"
"But I only want to beg the honor of one," he said, sounding more sure with each declaration. "Be mine."
Caroline's eyes fell to where his hands stroked the bottom of her palms, and her cheeks warmed with the blush he loved. "We barely know each other."
"We'll learn," he promised.
"Your mother, your sister, all of London," she listed wildly. "They'll say terrible things."
Klaus inhaled deeply as the realization crashed upon him like waves of a joyous ocean; she was considering it. "Forget them all." He shook his head, trying to convince her. "We can travel for my father's business as long as you'd like, there is so much of the world to see outside of London's society. Rome, Paris, I'll take you wherever you want to go."
With her eyes wide and tearful, Caroline sank her teeth into her bottom lip before nodding. "Very well."
He was unable and unwilling to hold back a wide smile, his hand cupping her cheek tenderly. Her still bright skin felt warm to the touch. Leaning in, Klaus stopped short of the kiss he had waited so long to give. "Very well," he repeated softly against her lips.
Caroline tilted up her chin to meet his mouth more fully. When she pulled back, her lips were as red as her rosy cheeks. "So, what's the plan?"
Smirking, Klaus just pressed another kiss to her mouth. "In a moment, love," he teased, glancing behind her. "Your milk is burning."
Caroline twirled toward the stove, that lovely blush reaching all the way to her ears; Klaus looked forward to seeing it again and again, should his impulsive plan work out as he hoped.