As she was still gazing away, embarrassed, Poppy missed the flicker of annoyance that crossed Kristoffer’s face. It was a good thing too because any sign of regret from him and her courage might have failed. But as it was, she only managed to look back just as he was moving her hand from his lapels and taking it into his own and then… dropped down to one knee. In the dirt. And grime. Hazel eyes blinked furiously quickly, lashes fluttering against her cheeks, as Poppy eyed him almost in disbelief.

But the words that came out of Kristoffer’s mouth were more than enough to satiate any possible doubt as to their doing this. And meaning it. I love you, he’d said. Worse even— I’m in love with you. She hadn’t asked him for that much; that had come inherently from Kristoffer himself and Poppy felt doxy wings flutter in her chest at the realization. This was all much more than she had ever hoped or dreamed for when she imagined her sad little life as a society wife. Poppy had always believed that she would marry a bore, likely some hundred years older than her, with excellent standing in society and a beautiful estate home. Not somebody she loved, but perhaps respected— at least mildly. Kristoffer Lestrange, for all his bravado, was none of those things and yet so much more. She couldn’t count herself lucky enough to believe it.

As he tugged a small signet ring from his finger and made to offer it to her, Poppy’s free hand lifted to cover her mouth (and subsequent intensified blushing). “Yes,” was her ever so inelegant, but beaming, reply. “Yes, Kristoffer Lestrange. I will happily marry you.”

(And if she was waiting until his face was centimeters from her own to make the same confession well, she could be patient for that much.)

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The following 3 users Like Poppy Dashwood's post:3 users Like Poppy Dashwood's post
   Ahn-Bo Jeong, Kristoffer Lestrange, Rosalie Hunniford