Enola POV, Autumn 1888
Enola and Tewkesbury walked for almost an hour in this manner, commenting on the various fountains and flower beds; the unusually clear weather they had been having; the amount of crime the city had seen, and how dull parliament was. On paper, it was far more shallow conversation than they usually conducted, in part due to their being in full view of Mr. James and any other person who happened to be walking past and in part due to their nervousness. But their body language told a different story; Tewkey would smile mischievously at her and pull the arm she was holding a fraction closer to his body, and she would squeeze it gently and shake her head at him while looking up through her eyelashes. 'Thank you romance novels.' She thought as her new trick stopped him in the middle of a sentence about his current studies. Flirting had never crossed her mind before recently, but she was certainly enjoying its power.
When they had reached the bench in the middle of the rose garden he had chosen, Tewkesbury dropped her hand abruptly, "There are yellow roses here," he mumbled nervously, "Not a very encouraging flower." She assumed jealousy and adultery were not the messages he wanted to send as he proposed to her. "I suppose you would prefer a patch of pink myrtle to spring up out of nowhere." Enola's thoughts somehow jumped out of her mouth before she could realise what they meant. "Or possibly a little edelweiss?" She added trying to cover her mistake. The look of shock and disappointment on Tewkey's face told her two things. 1. She had definitely over-memorised her floriography book. 2. She had just spoilt his proposal.
"You knew?" Tewkesbury asked looking slightly defeated. "I did. Asking me to promenade with you gave it away," Enola replied scrunching up her face with her best attempt at apology as Tewkey slumped onto a nearby bench defeatedly. She could read him well enough that she knew he was thinking about whether she would actually say yes. "I'm still here, aren't I?" She encouraged, hoping that would answer his silent questions. He looked up at her, almost as if to make sure she was still beside him, his mouth turning up at the corners to match her soft smile. "You are." He thought aloud as he reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small blue velvet box.
Enola tried her hardest to stand still and look pretty and not scare him off by rambling off the hundreds of sentences going through her brain, remembering the books she had read and the somewhat embarrassing advice she has gotten from her brothers. "I believe you are supposed to kneel," finding a comprise between her nature and what society wanted her to be, "Though sitting works too." Tewkesbury chuckled as he watched the fight go on inside her. "A good knight would have always kneeled before his lady," he teased as he dropped to his knee, and added in a mock supercilious tone "and I, a Lord must do the same.
He opened the box and started on a speech Enola could tell he had been rehearsing. "In my father and grandfather's time, it was de rigueur for a Marquess to propose with a marquise cut stone befitting a future marquise. While this is no longer the fashion, I found myself being quite sentimental about my mother's ring when she brought in a jeweller to have your ring made, thus I felt I needed to continue the tradition." He stopped for a moment to take a deep breath and take her gloved hand. "Enola Eudoria Heddassa Holmes, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife and the next Marchioness of Basilwether?" Tewkesbury looked up at her charmingly, his dark brown eyes glittering in the sunlight, and in that moment, Enola knew that no matter her fears of losing her freedom, she could only say one thing to him "Yes," she sighed, smiling, "Viscount Tewkesbury, Marquess of Basilwether, I will marry you." He slipped the brilliant ruby stone onto her finger, and stood to his full height, making her feel as dainty as a pixie.
"May I kiss your cheek?" Tewkesbury asked awkwardly. Enola chuckled, "You don't need permission, you have kissed me before." "Technically, you kissed me, and I am attempting to behave in a way that won't get me barked at if Mr. James," he gestured with his eyebrows towards his tutor who was still watching them from afar, "happens to tattle to Mother." "Fine," she presented her cheek in as ladylike a manner as she could handle, before quickly pulling it away, "On one condition." Tewkey smirked suspiciously, "And that is?" "I hardly think it right for you to kiss me while I still do not know your first name." She teased in the same mock supercilious tone, Tewkey has used early, "I assume your parents have not called you Viscount since you were born?" Tewkesbury chuckled at the thought of being called by his title all his life. "Lovely to meet you, dear." He winked and bowed ceremoniously as if he was meeting Enola for the first time, "My name is Adam Paul Elias, Viscount Tewkesbury, Marquess of Basilwether." He then quickly kissed her pink cheek before she had time to say anything else. "Adam…" she pondered it aloud before re-grasping his arm, "It suits you, but not as much as Tewkey."