Unable to look at her face, at her words, solemn as they were, he reached for one of her pale hands, taking it in his significantly larger one - the skin was cool and pale as marble from the briskness of their ride.
'You're not selfish, you could never be that' he said sombrely, his usually gruff voice low, in almost a whisper. 'would it be enough to tell you for now that it is no unfaithfulness of heart or deed, no vice of intemperance, and no sin of greed?' he asked intoning the words like a prayer, hoping that assuring her that it was not one of the usual foibles that men of certain rank and station were often inclined, might soften the blow. He was no real gambler, drink appealed to him only as a warming agent to the fire of conversation or song, and other than her - he had seldom looked at another woman since his wife death. Although when the words were gone from he him he wondered if a mistress, secret family, or bastard offspring might be easier to broach than this.
He took another deep breath, 'and were it not for this secret I would have begged you on bended knee months ago to allow this man the pleasure of showing you his love for the years that remain to him.' and while not a man given to fits of solemn emotion he could not help the tension that had edged his voice, the threatening crack that might spill forth in an unmanly clamour and reduced him to childish* emotional tears.
'I love you Titiana, in ways that I did not think myself of caring for another, and it is why I cannot in good conscience before God ask you to be my wife while some secret remains between us.'
'You're not selfish, you could never be that' he said sombrely, his usually gruff voice low, in almost a whisper. 'would it be enough to tell you for now that it is no unfaithfulness of heart or deed, no vice of intemperance, and no sin of greed?' he asked intoning the words like a prayer, hoping that assuring her that it was not one of the usual foibles that men of certain rank and station were often inclined, might soften the blow. He was no real gambler, drink appealed to him only as a warming agent to the fire of conversation or song, and other than her - he had seldom looked at another woman since his wife death. Although when the words were gone from he him he wondered if a mistress, secret family, or bastard offspring might be easier to broach than this.
He took another deep breath, 'and were it not for this secret I would have begged you on bended knee months ago to allow this man the pleasure of showing you his love for the years that remain to him.' and while not a man given to fits of solemn emotion he could not help the tension that had edged his voice, the threatening crack that might spill forth in an unmanly clamour and reduced him to childish* emotional tears.
'I love you Titiana, in ways that I did not think myself of caring for another, and it is why I cannot in good conscience before God ask you to be my wife while some secret remains between us.'
*just some casual Victorian toxic masculinity
![[Image: BqsNlXd.png]](https://i.imgur.com/BqsNlXd.png)
MJ is a National Treasure