Through the moments of silence, Dionisia tilted her head to look at Mr. Fisk. He was a gentleman—no, better than a gentleman—to show such sincerity, such sympathy, during the crisis he had no obligation to be involved in. Gentleman would offer their condolences and, if she were lucky, be discreet about her situation, but Mr. Fisk was—well, more. He actively sought to offer the solutions she thought only Zelda would be able to offer.
And, as it soon became apparent, he came with even more surprises.
"You would do that?" she asked. "Marry me?" She'd unknowingly straightened her postured by this point, her eyes so wide her lashed nearly touched her brows. She was so surprised by his offer—that he would offer, knowing the full extent of her situation, and not to mention the differences in their social standing—that she didn't even think to answer in that moment. It would be easy to assume he was offering simply to be nice, but no gentleman like Ari Fisk would make a proposal without meaning it.
"I - I - I." Lost for words she was, and all that remained was the shocked expression on her face. Surely he didn't want to marry her. Of course he didn't. They'd never been particularly close in all the years she'd known him, so he must have been offering to be gallant. "There must be someone else you'd rather marry. I can't believe that a man such as yourself"—an eligible one, with a number of connections and money of his own—"would willingly condemn himself to such a disadvantageous match?" And there, in the moment in need, where her options were limited and a respectable gentleman was offering her a solution, did she find her senses.
By marrying her, not only would he be taking in a ruined woman, but also laying claim to a child he knew wasn't his own. He'd presumably have to lie to his family—and not to mention suffer the sting of gossip.
"I'm in no position to refuse," she began slowly, "but you are under no obligation to solve my problems. Not at all." He was not her father, he was not the baby's. He was not even a close friend—only the brother of one.
And, as it soon became apparent, he came with even more surprises.
"You would do that?" she asked. "Marry me?" She'd unknowingly straightened her postured by this point, her eyes so wide her lashed nearly touched her brows. She was so surprised by his offer—that he would offer, knowing the full extent of her situation, and not to mention the differences in their social standing—that she didn't even think to answer in that moment. It would be easy to assume he was offering simply to be nice, but no gentleman like Ari Fisk would make a proposal without meaning it.
"I - I - I." Lost for words she was, and all that remained was the shocked expression on her face. Surely he didn't want to marry her. Of course he didn't. They'd never been particularly close in all the years she'd known him, so he must have been offering to be gallant. "There must be someone else you'd rather marry. I can't believe that a man such as yourself"—an eligible one, with a number of connections and money of his own—"would willingly condemn himself to such a disadvantageous match?" And there, in the moment in need, where her options were limited and a respectable gentleman was offering her a solution, did she find her senses.
By marrying her, not only would he be taking in a ruined woman, but also laying claim to a child he knew wasn't his own. He'd presumably have to lie to his family—and not to mention suffer the sting of gossip.
"I'm in no position to refuse," she began slowly, "but you are under no obligation to solve my problems. Not at all." He was not her father, he was not the baby's. He was not even a close friend—only the brother of one.
