Tewky POV, Autumn 1888

"Tewkey

You asked that I write, and I will thus. I hope you are well and your current session at Lords is going smoothly.

I am in the middle of a difficult case concerning the disappearance of a ruby belonging to a madame. It is involving a lot of watching and not much action. She does grow some lovely white clover in her garden.

Yours,
Enola."

The viscount read the letter three times sitting at his desk and chuckled to himself. Enola did not have to tell him to think of her, especially not in code. And now with the new way she had signed off, he had more unorganised, wistful thoughts floating around his brain. He pulled a piece of paper from the stack and took his fountain pen to it.

"To Miss Enola Holmes,

I am well, and this session is almost at an end.

Please meet my tutor and I by the bridge on the lower lake at Crystal Palace Park on Saturday eighteenth at eleven in the morning.I hope to see some blue salvias and red camellias on our promenade.

Please be safe

Your suitor,
Viscount Tewkesbury."

He had everything planned out. He had chosen her a beautiful garnet ring that he would use to propose to her after promenading for an hour. He asked his tutor to chaperone them, so he didn't need to ask for his mother to come up to London. He had even scribbled lines of what he could say. Now he just had to post the now addressed letter and then wait for the day. Tewkesbury got up from his desk and walked downstairs from his lodging room out onto the street to the brilliant red post box. He took a deep breath, knowing the letter would bring about the future that he wished for, and tossed it in.

Going back inside he grabbed a book his tutor had asked him to read, poured himself a glass of whisky and set about drawing his mind away from the long wait for his sweet friend to receive the letter and meet him. The book was onerous and put his skills in Latin – in which he regularly regarded himself as mostly proficient – quite to shame. He wanted to learn the philosophies of the great Cicero, but he wished he had been given the English translation and could leave the Latin to his studies in botany.

A few pages later of scowling at the sentences, hoping for a verb, Tewkesbury threw the book frustratedly on the bed. Enola was the one thing his mind wanted to settle on, and what use was he trying to fight it. He took a sip from the crystal glass beside him, hoping to quieten his brain as he got ready for bed. He rang the bell for his valet who quickly sprung into the room. "Thank you, Dennis, time for bed I think." He requested as the attentive man was already grabbing his banyan from the wardrobe. "I see you have been letter writing, My Lord." He inquired, as he helped his employer remove himself from the day's clothes, "Would you like me to post it for you?" Tewkesbury chuckled, knowing that he had for once escaped Mr Dennis's attention. "No, I went down to post it myself," he replied kindly, "but could you see that my best waistcoat is in fine fettle, I wish to wear it next week and I fear there is a hole in the lapel." The tall, moustachioed man nodded and took his leave.

Tewkesbury took his lamp from next to his favourite chair and wandered over to the bed. It had been a tiring day of listening to the other Lords rant and rave about whatever the current issue was and listening to his tutor rant and rave about his schooling. He longed for the quiet peacefulness of the estate, to be knee-deep in grass while the county air blew across his face. More than that he longed for Enola, for her daringly impulsive nature, that had smacked him across the face more than once. Like the time she had kissed him. He closed eyes to better remember the way her round, pink cheeks shone in the sunlight when he pulled away from her. How her blush crept all over her face and down onto her decolletage as she explained her ruse. He wished to touch it, knowing a well-born young lady would never allow it, except in his twilight indulgences. And let him she did, even allowing him to undo the buttons on her dress as he kissed a trail down her throat…