Urbane: Courteous and refined in manner.
Being courted was certainly not on Dana's prority list.
Learning to play Chopin or Mozart is on there, as is to finally finish reading her favourite Dicken's novel 'Great Expectations' for the third time, or that one particular Poe poem, 'The Raven', that's been haunting her for months.
Going for a walk around the cobble streets of London with a suitor organised for her by her parents, simply because he's the nephew of a lord - "a title of the highest nobility, apart from royalty - you'll inherit a ladyship of Camden, Dana!" - was not an activity that held great importance or personal interest.
Although she shouldn't really be surprised. What she wants has always played second fiddle in the big decisions her parents make for her.
If they want her to be escorted around the city by a noble boy, then she is to be escorted.
"You look, beautifully elegant, Dana." Her suitor, Philip, says when she traipses down the gilded staircase, her heeled shoes making soft thuds on the velvet coverings.
"I understand that courtesy is required of a gentleman such as yourself, but I am afraid that flattery will not get you anywhere." Dana remarks, finding herself pleased with Philips response.
His cheeks flush, a rosy tint that matches the colour Dan dusted her own cheeks with.
"I did not-" He stutters.
"I know. I am just clarifying before any problems arise."
Dana picks up the skirts of her rose-silk, gold-trimmed dress, and begins walking towards the tall oak doors.
"Are you coming, Philip? I can hardly escort myself."
Philip nods and rushes to meet her.
His tailored three-piece suit is of a smooth, cream colour; the pastel blue of his tie not only compliments the rest of his outfit, but also his eyes - not that Dana notices the deep azure of them or the chartreuse speckles that, normally hidden, twinkle under the light of the engraved chandeliers.
"I meant what I said," Philip whispers as he opens the door for her.
"You look exquisitely enchanting."
Dana hopes that the rogue on her cheeks is enough to hide the heat that rises, and her laced bodice tight enough to conceal the beating of her heart.
Not that either of those things happen, of course.
"I must confess, I'm having a better time then I expected." Dana admits, somewhat reluctantly.
"Better than you expected, or better then you told yourself it would be?" Philip asks, and he's not angry, not smug, there's no venom or disappointment in his voice - he sounds genuinely curious , if a little suspicious.
Dana's a little surprised, and she begins to wonder if she was a little harsh, judging him because she was irritated with her parents.
She's always been a spitfire, stubborn and brazen; speaking without thought and judging without consideration of the consequences or effects. It's her way of fighting back, against her family and the society whose rules she's forced to abide by, the rules which she disagrees with strongly.
But Philip has not done anything bad by her, he's been nothing but a gentleman, always pleasant and polite, despite their only having met thrice before - once at afternoon tea, the second to dance, and the third by accident, when her parents promptly decided he was a suitable match.
It is not fair for her to treat him in the manner she is.
"Do you care to join me on the edge of the fountain?" Philip requests, and although he doesn't speak it in words, Dana suspects that Philip took her silence as confirmation.
It almost frightens her, how quickly his ability to understand her is growing.
She gives a slight nod, and follows him to the marble ledge that surrounds the carved fountain. The trickling water serves as a serene background soundtrack.
"I apologise if I've come across as...forward. I assure you that was not my intention - the opposite, as it so happens."
"You haven't...I was callous in my negligence of your feelings and how my actions might effect you. I'm simply, rather against the rules of courtship - and the decree that all women must abide by, and belong to a man, rather than to herself."
Philip's eyes widen, and although she stands her ground, she stands firmly by her beliefs - Dana wonders for a second if her framing of the phrases was a little crude.
"Surely you do not believe...why, I would never see you as my property! I am not courting you, Dana, because I want to own you."
"You...aren't?" Dana asks, puzzled.
Philip reaches for her gloved hands, gentle at first; silently asking her permission, then when it's granted with a slight nod of her head, he envelops her thin, small hands with his own.
"I hold such adoration and affection for you Dana. Your shameless confidence, your fierce determination. Your quick wit, your spirit, your absolute wonder at the unknown."
"My looks?" She questions. It's a matter that, unfortunately, must be mentioned.
Philip chuckles softly.
"Your looks - your porcelain skin, delicate features, and caramel eyes that glint with specks of gold, like hidden jewels within your very soul peeking through. Yes, I suppose those looks are somewhat important, but they're certainly not all I care about."
Dana ducks her head, shy and self-conscious at the words Philip has spoken so softly.
Thin fingers pause under her chin, and she allows them to lift her head up, eyes locked on his.
"I do wish to marry you, Dana, one day - but only when and if, that is a commitment that you are willing to also make."
Dana pauses, allowing the weighted words to properly sink in, truly, before she speaks again.
"I believe that marrying you, may not be such a horrible thing." She says, which Philip recognises as the closest thing to a 'yes' he'll get out of her.
He smiles, his face lighting up with an ethereal delight. Dana can feel her heart beating faster, and she's certain that Philip can feel it too - the quickened thrum of the beats like strings plucked on a violin played by hand, traveling through her veins like water, from her hand to his.
"I promise to propose to you formally, soon. I thought it best to clarify our intentions the same first."
He stills, cocking his head an inch to the side like a curious bird.
"Alarm me to it, if I'm being too improper - but I have a great desire to kiss you."
"Surely it can't be improper if no one discovers it." She replies.
"You're an amazement to the most intelligent men in the world - how on earth am I supposed to unravel your secrets?" Philip asks, in awe.
"I'm sure you'll have enough time to learn everything." Dana retorts.
Philip raises the hand not holding hers, and cups her cheek with it. She shivers at his touch, his hand surprisingly warm against her cool skin. She rests her hand on his leg, to balance herself and to ground the both of them. She closes her eyes as he leans in.
His lips are dry from the wind, but they move against hers gently and slowly. He doesn't push her or press too hard - their lips move against each others delicately, as one whole not two parts, and Dana can feel herself melting under his touch, falling for the urbane man with the starry eyes.
Perhaps marriage wouldn't be the apocalyptic disaster she had initially thought.