Endures All Things

Word Count: 1815

Canterbury, England, 1912

Tristan Rycroft gazed out his study's window, firmly fixed on her. A small smile tipped the corner of her lips when she corrected his six-year-old son, sending an invisible arrow straight through his heart. Colin drew in a breath and repeated the words she asked to him.

Tristan watched with rapt attention, reading his son's lips: Je m'apelle Colin.

"Tres bien."

She clapped, her eyes sparking with pleasure with his son's accomplishment.

Tristan's heart constricted. He fisted his hands, unable to take his gaze off Noel dePiers. She brought light back into Colin's heart, making him smile again.

Colin turned and discovered Tristan watching from the window. He jumped to his feet and waved. Tristan returned the gesture. Colin grabbed Noel's hand and motioned toward the window. Noel spied Tristan and flashed him a wide grin, her doe-like eyes betraying a hint of embarrassment, yet pleasure at his son's accomplishment.

Heaven help him, Tristan was in love with his son's French tutor. He motioned for her to continue and they turned their attention back to the flowers in the garden. He stepped away from the window and walked to the small liquor cabinet next to his bookcase. Pouring himself a small glass of scotch, he savored the taste before swallowing the liquid.

Tristan's wife died three years ago. He dedicated himself to his business and his son's upbringing. Mary's death rocked him to the core of his being and he didn't want another woman in his life. He didn't need one. He'd ensure Colin would be exposed to the gentler sex so the boy would grow up to respect women, but Tristan hadn't expected to care so deeply for Noel so quickly, let alone lose his heart to her.

The young lady was twenty and Tristan was forty-one – old enough to be her father and that was the crux of his conflict. He was too old for her. Didn't Noel have a right to find a man her own age and grow old with him? Share her smile with him? Have his children?

His nostrils distended and he frowned at the thought of another man fathering her children. Pouring himself another drink, Tristan resolved to discover Noel's feelings. If she harbored the same emotions, he would claim her for his wife, but if she did not, he would allow her to walk out of his life, and heaven help his heart.

(*****)

Noel entered the Rycroft mansion near the kitchen, her young charge at her side.

"I'm thirsty, Miss dePiers."

"So am I. Let's see if Mrs. Potts made that lemonade she mentioned earlier."

Colin ran ahead into the kitchen, giving Noel a small bit of time with her thoughts. She enjoyed spending time with the boy, reveling in each discovery he made in his studies, and each accomplishment he mastered. If only Colin's father hadn't found a way into her heart. Today she caught Mr. Rycroft watching from his window and his wistful expression threatened to shatter the proper distance between them. He was her employer, nothing more.

Noel walked into the kitchen and found Colin sitting at the table, a pitcher of lemonade next to him. Mrs. Potts turned from the stove, where a soup simmered on the burner, and smiled.

"A spot of lemonade, Miss dePiers?"

"Oui, s'il vous plait."

The cook poured Noel a glass and handed it to her. Noel savored the beverage, finding it refreshing on this humid summer afternoon. Sitting next to Colin, she offered him a warm hearted grin.

"How do you like the lemonade?" Noel asked Colin.

He licked his lips. "Mrs. Potts makes the best lemonade."

"Yes, she does."

"Thank you." Mrs. Potts turned a bit pink in the cheeks and resumed her cooking.

Noel sighed. Tristan Rycroft always had the best. He possessed the best cook, served the best food, and bought the best clothes. He had the manor fitted with indoor plumbing and electricity. He even owned a motor car. He ran a very successful company and he sold only the best products. She inwardly smiled – Tristan's desire for the best made him incredibly successful. His wife's death three years ago threw him into a melancholy he only now appeared to be getting over. A part of her wished she was the reason. Tristan smiled when he saw her, he opened doors for her, and he enjoyed discussing the headlines in the paper with her, quite often in French. The other part of her filled with dread that another woman might be the cause. He'd begun to venture out again, attending dinner parties his brother and wife hosted. Noel poked her tongue against her cheek. Why did it rattle her to think Tristan might find another woman attractive?

She closed her eyes. Despite Tristan Rycroft's age – he was old enough to be her father – he possessed dark, thick, curly hair with only the slightest hint of grey near his temple. His soulful brown eyes betrayed every emotion he felt. Tall and broad shouldered, he filled his suits out well. Any woman would find him attractive.

Cold liquid and ice splashed onto her lap saturating her dress. She snapped her eyes open.

Little Colin waved his arms. "I'm so sorry Miss dePiers! I didn't mean to spill the lemonade."

Acting quickly, Mrs. Potts gathered towels from the cabinets.

"Let me help." Tristan's deep voice resonated throughout the room. He walked in and grabbed the towels from the cook.

Noel peered up into his face. Her cheeks pricked with heat from his steady, concerned gaze. Her dress was soaked from her chest down to her lap, over her skirt.

"Is Mrs. Gregory here?" asked Tristan.

"No, Sir, she went into town for groceries," said Mrs. Potts.

Tristan knelt before Noel and placed the dry rags on her skirt, soaking up the water. He handed her two more towels which she used for her lap and chest.

"Forgive me, Miss dePiers—" Colin's voice broke with sadness.

Noel reached out and squeezed his hand. "It was an accident. I'm not upset with you."

Colin offered her a sad smile.

Tristan looked up into her face and Noel's breath jammed in her throat. His eyes smoldered with an intensity she'd never seen before.

"I believe I might have a dress upstairs you can change into."

She nodded.

"Mrs. Potts, can you attend—"

"I have a soup on the stove," she began.

"Stay here. Colin, help Mrs. Potts clean up. I'll attend to Miss dePiers."

Noel placed the damp towels on the kitchen table. Mrs. Potts scooped them up. Tristan stood and gestured toward the hall. Noel followed him through the manor and up the stairwell to the family's apartments. She hadn't been in this part of the house before.

(*****)

Tristan opened a door to an empty bedroom. She walked in and offered him a thankful smile.

"I'll be right back. There's a changing wardrobe over there." He gestured toward the partition.

"Thank you."

He departed and marched down the opposite hall. After entering a small closet, he removed one of his wife's old dresses. He'd donated most of his wife's clothes to charity, but kept a few of his favorite dresses. Tristan gathered the garment in his arms and headed to Noel's room.

His heart beat an erratic rhythm. The proper way to handle the situation was to allow his housekeeper or cook to attend Noel, but they weren't available and he was secretly delighted to have this time with her, though it wouldn't be proper to make his feelings known despite the temptation.

Pausing before the door, he drew in a breath and knocked.

"Come in."

Tristan entered and slowly approached the bed, placing the dress down. She was still behind the wardrobe.

"Is there anything else?" he asked.

"Stay."

"What can I do?"

"Unlace my dress."

Tristan steeled his shoulders. She left the wardrobe divider, her garment damp.

By heaven, she was beautiful. Her strawberry-blonde hair loosely fell down her shoulders down her back. Her skin was flawless, her complexion pink. Noel presented her back to him. He stopped next to her and began unlacing the garment. A corset rested underneath.

She smelled wonderful – clean, hinting of crisp apples and sweet apricots. He closed his eyes briefly, placing his hand on her shoulder. The touch sent an electric current though him. His pulse pounded.

The dress loose, he pushed it off her. Slowly, he unfastened the corset, sliding it off her body, leaving only her chemise. His breath hitched.

"Noel—"

"Yes?"

"I find you attractive."

She turned around slowly and deliberately, her gaze meeting his. He placed his hands on her upper arms and drew her against his body. She placed her slender hand over his heart.

Desire sparked in her eyes. Her lower lip quivered. He leaned closer, his mouth skirting hers. He felt her breath, sweet with lemons and sugar. They met in a mutual kiss. It took all his will power to pull away. Needing distance from the swirl of conflicting emotions, he crossed the room heading toward the door.

"Don't go away." Her voice shook with emotion.

He stopped next to the exit and arched an eyebrow. "No? This is most inappropriate."

"It is," she confirmed. "But, I—"

"Yes?"

"I like being held in your arms."

His heart soared with hope. "A courtship could pose many challenges to us."

"I know."

"Your parents, for one." He held his ground, fisting his hands, his heart warring between kissing her again and pushing her away.

"Perhaps."

He'd draw on his logic – his common sense. "Noel, my age—" he paused. "I’m the same age as your father. He won't approve."

She placed a hand on the bedpost and offered him a heart-stopping smile. "Love rejoices the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things."

His breath caught in his throat. His common sense left him. All he saw before him was Noel, her lovely expression, her bright eyes, her beautiful body.

"Are you truly willing to endure the challenges? Don't you want a man your age – to grow old with you?"

"I want a man who respects me, my thoughts, my opinions, who is a gentleman in public and who isn't afraid to love me – despite the fact I'm young enough to be his daughter."

He swallowed – love slowly winning over his logic. This woman was kind and caring. If her courage was fortified by love…

Noel slowly approached. Tristan flexed his fingers. He needed to leave now or accept her. She stopped before him and cupped his cheek, her gaze burning with love and respect.

"Are you willing to endure our challenges?" she asked.

He placed his hand over hers, savoring her touch, reveling in her sweet scent, his courage fortified by love. "Stay, Noel, stay."