Was she giving him an ultimatum? The blood drained from his face in shock. Who was it? He turned away from her to seemingly inspect the desk next to him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so much anger and he didn't want her to see it, to think it was aimed at her because it mostly wasn't. The only culprit he could think of was her cousin. If Miss Lestrange had another suitor making public advances then he'd have heard about it and there was only one man who could make a move away from prying eyes, fucking Macnair. Why else would she have caught herself from uttering his name if not out of some sort of loyalty? It had to be him, the alternative was that Miss Lestrange was hedging her bets but it was beneath her to orchestrate such a thing. It was also foolhardy, no man wanted to feel as though he'd been duped and such a scheme could easily result in losing both.

What an underhanded, sly little shit Macnair was! Charles wanted to punch something but managed to settle for clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white. It wasn't her fault, if there was anything to reproach her for she wouldn't have told him at all. Fuck. "I appreciate your candor," he replied shortly. "I planned to invite you see my new house next weekend..." He finally turned away from the desk now that he felt he had his anger disguised well enough. "If you're available, if you're amenable I shall extend the invitation in writing." In the meantime he'd hunt down Macnair like the mongrel he was. "Did your cousin accompany you this evening?" He'd given up trying to keep the coolness out of his voice, it was all he could do simply to minimize it.

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   Ambrosia Selwyn, Cassius Lestrange

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At this news, he turned away—Tatiana could not see the look upon his face, but she could see how he clenched his fists. For a moment, he wondered if he might strike out against the desk he was so carefully examining.

For a moment, she wondered if she had made a grave miscalculation—both in telling him about the proposal, but also in considering him from the first.

He was not quite himself when he turned to face her once more, but it was still an improvement.

"Mrs. Greengrass is acting as my chaperone tonight, but you needn't worry that we are missed," Tatiana replied matter-of-factly, naming one of countless cousins as Mr. Macmillan failed to specify. "She knows it was important to me to speak to you privately this evening."

  

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Of course he hadn't even thought about how many other cousins Miss Lestrange had and it was a little concerning that she hadn't immediately thought of Macnair, he'd have thought he'd be on her mind already if he really was the culprit. Perhaps he wouldn't go hunt him down now, it almost sounded possible that he wasn't present at all anyway.

Damn.

Charles didn't really acknowledge her answer past a slight thoughtful nodding motion. "There are certain matters I've had to see to the last month or so." While he was using Macnair as a scapegoat for his frustration at the situation he now found himself in, Charles still felt the need to express some of it to her albeit it far more subtly than he felt. "Important matters that were not conducted without you in mind. I am not a reckless man, Miss Lestrange, I anticipate and I prepare. My time is precious to me and I abhor few things so much as the wasting of it." By that he meant he wouldn't have wasted his time courting her if he didn't plan to marry her, figuring that was at least part of her concern, after all it wasn't the first time he'd glimpsed impatience from her in recent times. "I consider your own time no less important."

He wasn't sure he was getting his point across effectively and as much as it pained him to be more open, he recognized that it was entirely possible that what he was saying here and now could influence how everything played out. Charles took a couple steps towards her. "I shall be entirely honest with you and say that my first marriage was the single worst mistake of my life. I was too young and impatient to see the mistake I was making. Your consent notwithstanding, I will make you my wife. The moment I ask for your hand I shall be as ready then to marry you as I will be on our wedding day. If you wish to be married ten seconds later I shall be ready, if you'd rather wait ten months I shall be ready." He'd been more honest that he'd meant. More forthcoming than he would ever have allowed had he not had the risk of losing her hanging over his head, but he was feeling too intense and determined to completely regret it just yet. "There is but one thing standing in my way now and I plan to make quick work of it." Or more accurately him. "Don't concern yourself with the date but whether or not you have faith in me." She'd better have enough trust in him at this point to be able to take his word for it but doubts had started to creep in over the last few minutes.

"Do you, Tatiana?"

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   Tatiana Macnair

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Something still stood in his way? Tatiana hoped that her words had not created that impediment, for she would hate to see how he might go about 'making quick work of it'. True, the debutante's aim had been to stir him into action, but the last thing she wanted was for him to actively confront whomever he suspected of proposing to her (Valerian, she guessed). Such rash action would most assuredly confirm that she would be making the wrong choice in accepting him.

"For women," she answered, "a first marriage is so often the only marriage; I will not have your luxury to remedy past mistakes. Prudence," here, she took a step towards him, "is to be commended; rash actions condemned." As she spoke, her hands moved, ostensibly to straighten his tie—not that it needed it.

"Rashness in a woman results in a swift ruin, but rashness in a gentleman is a slower affair. Nonetheless, it destroys just as thoroughly, and often sets the world ablaze with it. Are you a rash man, Mr. Macmillan?" her fingertips brushed lightly against the skin above his collar before Tatiana allowed her hands to fall to her sides once again.

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   Charles Macmillan

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He found himself holding his breath as her hands reached for tie. He prided himself on his self-restraint and level head but that didn't mean his impulses didn't put up a struggle, and Merlin were they putting up a struggle now. The urge to just go ahead and propose anyway was almost as strong as his urge to kiss her.

Was she arguing with him? Charles couldn't rightly tell, he was far too distracted by everything else she was doing. If he was a rash man he would've had more than a kiss from her by now, or so he'd like to think. "A rash man would take the ring from his pocket and ask for your hand." He couldn't help but to mention the ring, if there was any doubt in her mind that he was serious that ought to make her reconsider. "As you say, you're only likely to marry once, so it should be done properly, don't you agree?"

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"A prudent man," Tatiana chuckled wryly, "might do the same. A prudent man, though, may be assured that he has my faith."

Indeed, she would prefer that he propose on the spot—the mention of the ring had, indeed, set her eyebrows arching with interest—but it seemed that this would not be in the cards for today. Pity.

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   Charles Macmillan

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He reached for her left hand and gently raised it to his lips. He kissed right where a ring would sit on her finger. "A prudent man would treasure it." He slowly let go of her hand. "I would treasure it." He was going to have it out with Macnair and then he would come for her. They might be married by the end of summer. The thought was almost enough to make him reconsider waiting.

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