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Connie blinked and her jaw dropped open in shock. “Are you jesting with me?” she demanded before softening quickly. “No, of course you wouldn’t jest about something like that but –“ she trailed off, unsure how to complete her sentence.
“Is my declaration too sudden for you? Does it make my proposal more or less appealing?”
Connie stared at him, still unsure how to answer or what to say. “I don’t actually recall hearing a proposal, Mr. Alcott,” she finally said primly, feeling laughter wanting to bubble from her.
“That was most remiss of me, I do apologize,” Florent replied immediately, standing, and offering her an elegant bow before dropping to his knee and reaching out for her hand once more. Connie was still so muddled by the turn of events she didn’t resist when he separated her hands from their grip on one another and brought one of them to his lips, dropping a kiss onto the back of it and keeping a firm hold lest she try to escape.
“Lady Constance Moreland, I find I love you quite desperately despite our short acquaintance. Would you do me the great honor of agreeing to be my wife?”
Tears sprang to her eyes. It was the most perfect thing he could have said to her. “The pleasure would be mine,” she answered simply.
With that, he closed the distance that separated their faces and finally answered the questions they had both been having since that almost kiss the day before.
