If he'd had color in his face to lose he would, at the moment she mentioned his hand, have lost it. He grimaced slightly and then tried to hide it as confusion. There went his proposal, utterly ruined despite the painstaking efforts he'd gone through to arrange it all perfectly. It was possible he could still salvage it but he'd need to think fast and take her mind off his bloody finger.
"My hand?" He withdraw his hand along with the ring box as he feigned ignorance as to what he'd find. How the hell was he going to dismiss this? It was considerably more obvious than the smear he'd noticed elsewhere. Damn. If he was as prone to picking hangnails as I am he'd have a perfect explanation ready and waiting but he probably doesn't do that. "Ah," he muttered as he inspected his hand and stalled for time. "I must have nicked myself on something, maybe a rough piece of wood the carpenter overlooked." He reached into his breast pocket for his handkerchief which was thankfully well out of the way of his wound so oughtn't to be anything but crisp white. "I shall have words with him." Charles hastily wiped his hand. "It looks a lot worse than it is. My apologies, I should've caught that before you had to see it." He'd gotten away with it he thought. He gave the ring box itself a cursory wipe just in case and then tucked his handkerchief back into to his pocket.
The adrenaline was slowly starting to dissipate and with it his temporary obliviousness to his injury. "My mother was instrumental in finding the right ring. It's a family piece, although I've never seen it worn." The implication he was trying to make was that it hadn't been within a hundred feet of Noelle's vile, undeserving hands. Hopefully the ring would once again draw her attention and push from her mind any thoughts of the blood on his hand.
"My hand?" He withdraw his hand along with the ring box as he feigned ignorance as to what he'd find. How the hell was he going to dismiss this? It was considerably more obvious than the smear he'd noticed elsewhere. Damn. If he was as prone to picking hangnails as I am he'd have a perfect explanation ready and waiting but he probably doesn't do that. "Ah," he muttered as he inspected his hand and stalled for time. "I must have nicked myself on something, maybe a rough piece of wood the carpenter overlooked." He reached into his breast pocket for his handkerchief which was thankfully well out of the way of his wound so oughtn't to be anything but crisp white. "I shall have words with him." Charles hastily wiped his hand. "It looks a lot worse than it is. My apologies, I should've caught that before you had to see it." He'd gotten away with it he thought. He gave the ring box itself a cursory wipe just in case and then tucked his handkerchief back into to his pocket.
The adrenaline was slowly starting to dissipate and with it his temporary obliviousness to his injury. "My mother was instrumental in finding the right ring. It's a family piece, although I've never seen it worn." The implication he was trying to make was that it hadn't been within a hundred feet of Noelle's vile, undeserving hands. Hopefully the ring would once again draw her attention and push from her mind any thoughts of the blood on his hand.
