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“Enola?” A soft male voice called from behind the glass separating her office from the fighting studio. It was nearly dusk now, and the women were packing up to return home for the evening.
Looking up from her desk, Enola’s curls wisped around her shoulders gracefully. She turned on her heels and bit back a smile. “Tewksbury.”
“Enola.” He repeated. She stared at him for a moment from where she stood by her desk. “Care to let me in?”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” She rushed over to the door and unlocked it, blushing and bowing her head in embarrassment as he walked in. She locked the door behind him.
He turned to her and brushed his hands against her sides, eventually planting them at her waist. “Well, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were flustered to see me.” He teased, his voice quiet and low.
“If you think you know better then I’m afraid you’re quite wrong.” She murmured in reply, taking hold of the lapels of his jacket between her fingers and thumb and feeling the coarse material.
“Whatever do you mean, Miss Holmes?” Tewksbury asked quietly as he linked his hands around her waist, bringing her close enough to brush his nose against hers.
“I mean…” she began, her breath shaking slightly, nearly imperceptibly, at the feel of Tewksbury’s breath against her lips, “...that maybe I was flustered to see you, especially at this hour.”
Unfortunately, her suitor was quite perceptive and noticed quickly the blush on her cheeks and the shake in not just her breath, but her voice as well. He smiled down at her and brushed his nose up the ridge of hers, tracing to her forehead, where he left a tender kiss. She bit her lips at this and gazed up at him through her lashes.
“Hmmm…” he hummed, “you? Flustered? I would’ve thought it quite impossible, Miss Enola Holmes, first lady detective in all of London.”
“Maybe a certain Lord Viscount Tewkesbury, Marquess of Basilwether has that sort of effect on me…” She licked her lips, hoping to make them irresistible enough to earn herself a kiss. Yes, she could kiss him herself, but there was something about tempting him into a kiss that set her nerves on fire and gave her a delightful, though small, rush of adrenaline.
“Is that so?” He asked leaning closer, only allowing his lips to brush hers while he spoke.
Tewksbury prided himself in his ability to knock down Enola’s walls and evoke this tenderness in her that he was certain no one else had the pleasure of experiencing.
“Perhaps.” She replied, staring at his lips with heavy eyelids, then looking back to his eyes and blinking innocently.
He moved a hand up her side again to delicately twirl her hair between his gloved fingers. Seeing the silent plea in her eyes, he moved his hand to cradle her jaw and caught her lips in a kiss. She sighed in relief, leaning into his palm and moving her lips against his. Her hands found their way around the nape of his neck, which she used to pull him downwards to her height. He retreated all too soon, leaving the kiss as something chaste and even shorter than their kiss in the carriage.
Mock pout on her face, Enola whined, “That’s all I get?”
“That wasn’t enough for you, detective?” He smirked teasingly.
Tired with his teasing, her gaze hardened and turned hungry as she purred, “Hardly,” and tugged him into a kiss once again. Pressing herself against him, she weaved her fingers through his hair, sending his top hat to the floor.
Amateurishly caught off guard by Enola’s boldness, Tewksbury took a moment to reel from the shock before holding her even more firmly than before. The pair kissed feverishly, pushing and pulling against each other until he fully surrendered himself to her, opening his mouth to grant her tongue the exploration it had been begging for. Enola reveled in the new layer of complexity their kiss had achieved, and gasped softly into his mouth as his tongue flicked against hers. They seemed to have lost complete sight of their surroundings, causing them to bump into the shelf of glassware positioned directly next to the door, and nearly send it toppling over.
The near catastrophe managed to pull the Lord away from his lady detective and they laughed airly as they continued to pant, recovering from their kiss.
“Oh, wow.” He sighed, hiding his face in Enola’s neck.
“‘Oh, wow’ yourself.” She laughed, kissing his cheek and gingerly combing through his hair with her fingers.
He left a gentle kiss on her neck before raising his head to admire her face once again.
“Can I offer you a cup of tea?” She inquired, reverting to her normal tone of voice.
“I certainly wouldn’t be opposed.” He returned, taking a seat at one of the chairs that faced her desk.
“One moment then.” She smiled courteously, as if she wasn’t trying to swallow his tongue just moments before.
Tewksbury chuckled at this, watching her disappear behind a door to another room. He took the time alone to pick up his abandoned hat and drape his jacket over the back of his chair. He straightened out his sleeves and hair, inhaling deeply.
Enola returned with two teacups and plates in hand, offering him one as she sat in the seat beside him.
“Thank you, my love.” He grinned, removing his gloves and taking the beverage.
Enola hid her smile at his term of endearment behind her teacup as she sipped the warm, flowery drink.
“You may want to sit in the other chair as I have a case for you.” He gestured towards the chair across from him, behind her typewriter.
“Really?” Her face lit up as she set her cup down and straightened her back, ready to listen.
Tewksbury felt a small pang of regret for what he was going to say but continued on anyway, “It's a case of a stolen heart. Some wonderful girl came along and stole mine and I only seem to have a clue where it might be when her lips are pressed against me.”
“Tewksbury!” She slapped her lap in offense.
“I’m sorry, my sweet, I’m sorry. I jest, I jest.” He reached toward her hands with only a hint of laughter in his voice, but she was gracious enough to give him her hands anyway. He held them softly, brushing his thumb against her knuckles. “I’m sorry.” He apologized sincerely, remorse in his eyes.
Enola’s cheeks tensed in an unwanted smile as she looked away, “I suppose you’re forgiven.” Her smile won over her will when she looked back into his soft brown eyes.
“I did,” he began, giving her hands a final squeeze before releasing them to sip his tea, “come here for a reason.”
“Isn’t kissing me reason enough?”
He blushed gently, “Well, yes, but for another reason also.” He cleared his throat, “Of equal importance.”
“Go on then.” She urged, nervously picking at the skin of her thumb.
“Erm… I told you, just a week ago, when you confessed your love, rather when I confessed my love and you, well-”
“Tewksbury,” she interrupted with a smile, “get on with it.”
“Right,” he fiddled with his cufflinks unnecessarily, trying to buy himself time to find the words, “I told you how I had no time to think of marriage because of politics and trying to find a compromise with irrational lords.”
Enola nodded, encouraging him to continue.
“Well, I took a page from your book and refused to compromise, and it really seems to have gotten me somewhere. There’s no longer a battle within me, only a battle against what I know to be wrong.”
Enola laughed, “Congratulations on having Lord McIntyre arrested. I’m quite impressed.”
Tewksbury stood up a little straighter with pride. “Thank you,” he coughed, and then cleared his throat again, “so what I suppose I mean to say is… that with my mind less cluttered with politics, I suppose I’ve had more time to think of other things, of marriage…” He studied her face intently, trying to gauge her reaction.
Enola sipped her tea to avoid interrupting.
“And I told you that you, of all women, were my chief romantic interest and I… I suppose I want you to be more than that, and I thought that maybe, I could offer…” he took a deep breath to clear the lump in his throat, “my hand in marriage.” He finished, relieved to have it over with.
“No.” She replied simply, her eyes widening at her own words. She carefully set down her cup, avoiding his, most likely heartbroken, face.
“No?” His voice quivered and he went pale as he tried to meet her eyes. He was leaning so far forward in his seat as it was, that he allowed himself to fall onto his knees, less out of desperation and more out of needing to see her expression.
She put her hands on his shoulders and looked at him. He looked just as sad as she had feared. “Tewksbury,” she began quietly, “I’m not sure you understand what I stand to lose in marrying you.”
Tewksbury nodded solemnly and swallowed. “Well, I’d never try to force your hand or anything of the sort.” He said thickly.
“Tewkey, let me finish.” Her fingers caressed his cheek as he nodded in agreement. “It’s not that I don’t love you, or that I don’t want you. I just don’t think I’m fit to be a lady, or a marchioness, for that matter.” Her hands cupped his face and she rubbed her palms against his stubble as she took in the sadness clouding his muddy irises. “I want to keep seeing you, but I don’t know if a fancy ring on my finger is payment enough for me to abandon my business, my calling, my purpose, let alone my independence, some of my rights, and freedom.”
“I can see you’ve made up your mind, so please don’t see this as me disregarding your wishes, though I feel it important to note that I would never make you give up your business, and I didn’t think you would ever imagine doing so for anyone, including myself. And I know that historically marriage is a purchase, but, Enola Holmes, the last thing I want to do is own you, or attempt to control you, because for one, I know I couldn’t, and two, I like you free and wild, as you’re meant to be.”
This earned him a laugh and a smile from Enola. Tewksbury rose to his feet to peck her lips, then returned to his chair with his body still completely turned towards her. Enola softened at the love and earnesty in his expression as he looked at her with his elbows on his knees, and his fists supporting his chin.
“Also,” he continued, pleading his case with his eyes even more strongly than his words, “I know you don’t care for propriety, or nincompoopery, and for that I don’t blame you, and though in marrying a lord you may have to engage in some elitist snobbery…” he paused to take in the grin on Enola’s face, “once we’re married I can assure you I’ll do my best to keep it to a minimum. Not only that, but I know I will, unfairly, outrank you as your husband, but I can assure you I have no intentions to damper your voice in our marriage, our lives, or in current events. I promise to hear every single word you have to say and if I ever try to silence you I swear I will give you permission to hit me senseless.”
Enola’s laughter was nearly uncontrollable now, as Tewksbury was not only amusing, but charming in a way that made her stomach tingle, which seemed to only fuel her laughter more.
“If anything, the arrangement may be favourable to you, as, whenever you decide you’re ready and willing… to have children…” Tewksbury’s voice cracked embarrassingly at the idea of the whole process and Enola stood up to squeeze his shoulder, still beaming. He, too, stood up to meet her and took her into his arms, continuing his speech but quieter, as they were now mere inches away. With their arms around each other’s waists he went on, blushing remembering where he left off, “... whenever you wish to have children, they’ll have the security and comforts of wealth, and so will their mother as she heals from childbirth.” He caressed her cheek, trying to shake the thought of her in such pain, “With some disposable income, we’d be able to hire a nurse or governess to look after the children while you continue your cases or pursue any passions that your heart may desire. You wouldn’t have to work for money, so your clients could actually pay you nothing and you would be just fine, and without the burden of finances, you could take all the time you wish to raise our children just as you were raised, and raise any of our daughters into strong young women just like yourself, and any of our sons into respectful young men who will hopefully treat their future wives even better than I aspire to treat you.”
“It's a tempting offer, Tewksbury…” She grinned, laughing into his shoulder.
“Hold on right there, I’m not done. I find it rather offensive that you think marrying me is nothing more than a fancy ring on your finger, and now I’m almost tempted to propose with only a piece of twine to spite you,” he joked, tapping her nose, earning him many more giggles. “Though, seriously, Enola, there are all the benefits I just listed, and you get to have a dedicated space for your cases with all the reading material you could ever wish for. Not to mention the potential romantic prospects that sharing a bed with me may entail…” he whispered directly into her ear, causing her to shudder. He then kissed a trail down to her neck where he gently took her skin between his teeth before moving back to her cheek, and peppering a trail of kisses from there to her lips.
Enola blushed deeply from the tips of her ears down to her decolletage, his kisses eliciting a soft sighing sound from between her curved lips. When he retreated from her mouth, his eyes seemed to reflect the same shimmer she was positive her own had as well.
“ Very tempting offer,” she corrected her previous self, unable to glance away from him for only a moment. “So you think of it too?” She murmured, innocent eyes searching his.
“Well, that's not very gentlemanly to admit,” he whispered under his breath and averted his gaze, his own blush blooming like his roses in May.
“It's not very gentlemanly to appear at my doorstep just before dusk, especially unchaperoned, to kiss me and bring up the topic in the first place,” she retorted.
“Touché.”
“So? Do you think about it too?”
“Yeah,” he relented, then leaning into her neck as a way to hide his grin, he continued, “more often than I probably should.”
“I’ve never seen you more flustered, my dear lord…” she teased into his ear, “it seems you may fancy me.”
“It seems?” He questioned, revealing his face that looked more like a poppy than a Tewksbury.
“Oh my,” she chuckled at the colour of his face, “Is this why you’re so ready for marriage now?”
“No,” he grew serious, “I mean all that I said. I think we could make marriage work, and it may not be as horrible as you assume.”
“Well that depends… how much snobbery must I endure?”
“From that entire speech, that’s what you’re most concerned about?” He smiled.
“Of course, that's the worst part of your proposal.”
“That's actually relieving, thank you.”
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
“How much snobbery? Quite a bit in the beginning, as my mother will want to celebrate our engagement. Even more during the wedding, but after that, little to none, as much as you find tolerable.”
“What about my being a marchioness, won’t I have to play that part?”
“Yes, but the most it requires is perhaps attending one ball a month, if it's not too much, and providing your opinions on some political matters.”
“Must I call you ‘The Most Honourable Lord Viscount Tewksbury, Marquess of Basilwhether’? Because I’m afraid that’s a bit of a mouthful.”
“In public, yes, but I suppose in private you could call me by my given name, or by the endearing name of your choosing.”
“Is ‘adorable pain in the arse’ an option?”
Tewksbury laughed, “As long as it's said lovingly.”
“Believe me, it is,” Enola smiled, kissing him gently. Reluctantly, she pulled away, “Small problem… I still barely know how to dance.”
“One can learn.” He grinned reassuringly, drawing her back to his lips.
Kissing her was just as fiery and electric as she was, and Tewksbury believed she was at her most brazen when left alone with her lips on his. She tugged on his hair, releasing a low groan from the lord’s chest, one that he was embarrassed of enough to disconnect himself from her mouth to apologize.
“Unless you say that with the intention to stop, your apology means nothing to me, as it was never warranted to begin with.”
She leaned back into him, and he didn’t stop her, so she continued to lick and nibble at his lips, making his thoughts of their wedding night even more intense and impossible to ignore, and his return of her ministrations increasingly more wanton. She backed herself up to her desk, lifting herself onto it and allowing Tewksbury to stand between her legs.
“Enola,” he sighed, urgently trying to clear his mind of the lustful fog that had taken over, “Enola, you know exactly how far this can go, right? Before we must stop?”
She smiled at him, “Yes. I’m acutely aware. But, Tewky, we’re only kissing…”
“Yes, but…”
Enola laughed as he struggled to speak, opening and closing his mouth with nothing coming out.
“Very heated kissing,” he eventually blurted, managing to get even redder.
“Too heated for your liking, Tewksbury?”
“No,” he sighed, shaking his head and reclaiming her lips despite the part of his mind that warned him against it.
Once again despite his better judgement, his hands wandered below her waist, too scared to do more than feel the fabric knowing what lay beneath. Enola, more boldly, undid the top buttons of his vest, pushing it off his shoulders. Tewksbury, blinded to everything but the captivating woman before him, allowed her to remove the first layer of his clothing and then untie his tie, which met a similar fate to his vest on the floor. She worked at his collared shirt, undoing enough buttons to expose his bare chest. She broke off his lips to take in the sight, to which he could only try to catch his breath that he immediately lost again when she slipped her hands under his shirt and danced them across his collar bone. She thought he looked more handsome in that moment than he had at any ball, with his lips swollen and wet from their kissing, his cheeks rosy, his forehead slightly sweaty, his hair mussed, his chest exposed, and the most euphoric look on his face.
“Well,” he sighed deeply, walking away from her to retrieve his vest from the floor and begin to button it.
“Just like that you’re walking away?” Enola asked, trying to conceal the hurt in her voice.
“Why, yes, my love. I need to save some things for our wedding night,” he winked, left a kiss upon a stunned Enola’s cheek, and then returned to re-securing his tie.
“You cheeky son of a…” she grinned, jumping off the desk and playfully hitting his shoulder with his hat.
He spun around and caught her by surprise, tickling her before she could react.
Between giggles she managed, “Tewksbury, stop before I have to kill you.”
He laughed at this and raised his hands in the air, “Yes miss.”
“Good,” she smiled, pulling him into a sweet kiss.
He took her into his arms and whispered, “So, do you accept my unofficial proposal? I can officially propose at your convenience— we can put it off for months, years if you so please.”
“I didn’t need any more convincing,” she grinned, “you made a very strong case, it was almost as if you were proposing a bill to the Lords.”
He chuckled at this. “So that’s a yes?”
“A tentative one,” she teased, “I might have to rethink my answer if my ‘ring’ turns out to be a piece of twine.”
“Whatever you say, my darling,” he murmured, capturing her lips and smiling, knowing he was kissing the woman he would marry.