Again the Magic (Wallflowers 0.5)(5)

Aline’s love for McKenna made her want the impossible; to be with him always, to become the family he had never had. Instead she would have to accept the life her parents chose for her. Although love matches among the upper classes were no longer as objectionable as they once had been, the Marsdens still insisted on the tradition of arranged marriage. Aline knew exactly what was in store for her. She would have an indolent aristocratic husband, who would use her to breed his children and turn a blind eye when she took a lover to amuse herself in his absence. Every year she would spend the season in London, followed by the country house visits in summer, and then the autumn hunts. Year after year she would see the same faces, hear the same gossip. Even the pleasures of motherhood would be denied her. Servants would care for her children, and when they were older, they would be sent away to boarding school as Marcus had been.

Decades of emptiness, Aline thought gloomily. And worst of all would be knowing that McKenna was out there somewhere, entrusting another woman with all his thoughts and dreams.

“God, what am I to do?” Aline whispered in agitation, flinging herself onto her brocade-covered bed. She clutched a pillow in her arms and dug her chin into the downy plumpness of its surface, while reckless thoughts clattered through her mind. She couldn’t lose him. The thought made her shaky, filled her with wildness, made her want to scream.

Flinging aside the pillow, Aline lay on her back and stared blindly into the dark folds of the overhead canopy. How could she keep McKenna in her life? She tried to imagine taking him as her lover after she was married. Her mother had affairs…many aristocratic ladies did, and as long as they were discreet, no one objected. But Aline knew that McKenna would never accept such an arrangement. Nothing was half measure for him—he would not consent to share her. A servant he might have been, but he had as much pride and possessiveness as any man on earth.

Aline did not know what to do. It seemed the only choice was to steal every moment she could with him, until fate pulled them apart.

Two

After his eighteenth birthday, McKenna had begun to change with astonishing speed. He grew so quickly that he made Mrs. Faircloth exclaim in fond exasperation that it was no use in letting his trousers out, as it would just have to be done again the next week. He was ravenously hungry all the time, but no amount of food served to satisfy either his appetite or fill out his lanky, big-boned frame.

“The lad’s size bodes well for his future,” Mrs. Faircloth said proudly as she discussed McKenna with the butler, Salter. Their voices carried clearly from the stone-flagged hall to the second-floor balcony where Aline happened to be passing. Alert to any mention of McKenna, she stopped and listened intently.

“Indisputably,” Salter said. “Nearly six feet tall already…I should say he’ll easily attain the proportions of a footman someday.”

“Perhaps he should be brought in from the stables and begin an apprenticeship as a footboy,” Mrs. Faircloth suggested in a diffident tone that made Aline grin. She knew that behind Mrs. Faircloth’s casual manner was a keen desire to bring him up from the lowly position of stable boy to something more prestigious.

“Heaven knows,” the housekeeper continued, “we could use another pair of hands to carry coal and clean the silverplate, and polish the looking glasses.”

“Hmm.” There came a long pause. “I believe you’re right, Mrs. Faircloth. I shall recommend to the earl that McKenna be made a footboy. If he concurs, I will order a livery to be made.”

Regardless of the increase in pay and the privilege of sleeping in the house, McKenna was somewhat less than grateful for his new status. He had enjoyed working with the horses and living in the relative privacy of the stables, and now he spent at least half his time in the manor wearing a conventional full dress livery of black plush breeches, a mustard-colored waistcoat, and a blue pigeon-tailed coat. More aggravating yet was the time every Sunday when he was required to accompany the family to church, open the pew for them, dust the bench, and set out their prayer books.

Aline couldn’t help but be amused by the amicable teasing that McKenna had endured from the village boys and girls who waited outside the church. The sight of their friend clad in the detested livery was an irresistible opportunity for them to comment on the sight of his legs in white stockings. They speculated loudly on whether the bulge of his calves was truly made of muscle or perhaps the “falsies” that footmen sometimes used to make their legs more shapely. McKenna maintained a suitably impassive facade, but he flashed them a glance promising vengeance, causing them to howl in delight.

Mercifully, the rest of McKenna’s time was occupied with gardening and cleaning the carriages, which allowed him to wear his regular disreputable trousers and loose white shirt. He became deeply sun-browned, and although the bronze hue of his skin clearly proclaimed him to be of the working classes, it enhanced the vivid blue-green of his eyes and made his teeth look even whiter than usual. Not surprisingly, McKenna began to attract the notice of female guests at the estate, one of whom even attempted to hire him away from Stony Cross Park.

Despite the lady’s best efforts to entice him, McKenna declined the offer of employment with bashful discretion. Unfortunately, that sense of tactful restraint was not shared by the other servants, who teased McKenna until he turned red beneath his tan. Aline questioned him about the lady’s offer, as soon as she found an opportunity to be alone with him. It was midday, right after McKenna had finished his outdoor chores, and he had a few precious minutes of leisure before he would dress in his livery to work in the manor.