"You're offering me a rose?"
"Aren't roses a way of saying I love you?"
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In which [Y/N's] noble and honored family's money starts to decline and they find the only way of staying out of the ruins is to fix their daughter an arranged marriage.
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His heart faltered, skipping a beat, for standing in front of him, was a vision complete.
It was true—the mystery girl was, indeed, the daughter of Lord Bradbury. When Tewkesbury's mother had mentioned the need to deliver documents to Lord Bradbury, he had offered to verify the claim. And now, there she stood, confirming it in a way that left his breath caught in his chest.
A smile, wide with surprise, broke across his face, and he watched her expression falter as if uncertain of what she saw in him.
"May I help you with something?" Her voice was soft, but something about it made his heart race.
"I'm here to personally deliver some documents to Lord Bradbury." He replied, his words suddenly feeling too ordinary.
She stepped aside with a graceful motion, and he crossed the threshold into her home, the air thick with unspoken words.
Her eyes studied him for a moment, silent, before she spoke again, "I'll take you to his study."
He nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and they began the quiet journey through the sprawling house. Each step, each hallway seemed to pull him deeper into her world, and he found his eyes tracing her every movement. She was stunning—effortlessly so, as though beauty flowed from her very being like a melody.
At last, she stopped before two grand doors, her eyes lifting to meet his.
"Here we are," She said, her voice soft like a breeze on a summer day.
He could not help but smile back, as if they shared some secret no one else would understand. As she began to turn, he acted on impulse, reaching out to gently catch her wrist. She froze, turning her gaze back to him, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"Is there something else I could assist you with?" She asked, her words playful now, lips curving into a teasing smile, "Marquess of Basilwether."
He chuckled, fingers loosening around her wrist before letting go altogether. "Yes, actually..." He paused, the weight of the moment pressing in, "I believe I've earned myself a name, haven't I? After all, I did give you a lesson on flowers."
Her smile bloomed in response, warm and knowing, "I'm Viscountess [Y/N] Bradbury," She said with a playful curtsy, "At your service."
"The name of a blooming flower gracing this earth." He murmured, voice sincere, and he saw the flush rise to her cheeks like the pink of dawn.
She giggled, her eyes dancing with amusement, "You do tickle me, Viscount Tewkesbury."
"I think you're wonderful." He told her, words quiet but true, holding her gaze as if to make her see the sincerity in them. Her cheeks darkened, and he wondered if he had said too much.
