As soon as she'd responded, Faustus faltered — she had gone unbelievably still. As sure as he was of his affections for her, he wasn't entirely sure this was a good sign. Perhaps this had been a horrible misunderstanding. Had he truly overstepped at his aunt's Christmas party and caused her such great offense that she felt she had to profess her feelings for him? His eyes flickered briefly to her guardians at the other end of the room. His visit with them the other day had been successful; they had been overly elated with the news he'd brought, so much so that Faustus had genuinely wondered if when all was said and done, it would be Miss Skovgaard's guardians who would be more excited about his proposition to the healer.

Just as the seed of doubt had planted itself in his chest, he looked back to Miss Skovgaard again. It was only one look, yet her words from that night in the parlor came flooding back to him — I think you've held my heart for some time now, Mr. Prewett.

No, she certainly hadn't been coerced into saying such things. It had been why Faustus stood back from her for so long - or what had seemed like forever - he hadn't wanted to crowd her or overwhelm after they'd been so close. And despite how soft spoken Miss Skovgaard could be, he was certain she did not trifle with her words like some silly schoolgirl. No, this was right.

"Miss Skovgaard, I wanted to ask you if you would do me the honor of allowing me to pay court to you." He said, his voice mercifully steady, feeling his heart skip yet again in his chest.

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