Enola POV, Autumn 1888
Enola had almost climbed to the top of Tewkesbury's treehouse when he finally caught up to her. He stood a few steps back from the ladder, readying himself to catch her should she fall, trying to be as chivalrous as possible. "Would it really be so bad?' the viscount asked as he climbed the ladder. Enola looked down at him from the branch she was leaning against and saw his face was contorted into a conglomeration of emotions she couldn't quite pick. "Yes, Viscount Tewkesbury, Marquess of Basilwether. Can you imagine anything worse than being taught airs by a stuffy governess for two years before having to be a marchioness and hold afternoon teas for pompous countesses, just because my brothers say I must?" she shouted, "Or how about the thought of giving up my profession to provide heirs to a nincompoop, who expects me to be meek and mild?"
Seeing the hurt on her friend's face she realised her mistake, "I would never ask you to be meek and mild," the viscount answered quietly. Enola sank to the ground, fiddling with her somewhat unwieldy train and waved to Tewkesbury to join her. "You were asking how bad it would be to marry you, weren't you?" she asked wearily, receiving a nod, "And I just insulted your manhood by mocking what was almost a proposal?" The second question elicited a snigger, which he quickly turned into a serious nod when he saw the confusion on Enola's face. "It did hurt a bit and I understand why you aren't jumping at the opportunity, but you should think about where my mother is coming from," he suggested, "She fears what could happen to me, and the whole family, without an heir. She was married to her best friend, younger than you are now, and I think she believes the same will make things easier for me."
Enola rolled her eyes "'And too soon marred are those so early made.'" She quoted incredulously. "I'm pretty sure you are the first person to ever quote Shakespeare at me," Tewkesbury retorted, trying to diffuse the situation, "I didn't hate it, but I would have preferred a different line." Enola chuckled despite herself, noting a further similarity between them, "What line would you have preferred?" she asked, amused. "I'm not sure, maybe something from Much Ado About Nothing." He answered, trying to be mannerly. "Such as: 'There was a star danced, and under that I was born'?" She asked, letting go of more of her anger, "Or do you prefer the eternal bard's comedic devices more?" "You assume correctly," he chuckled.