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“Breathe,” Enola told him again, feeling his heart’s thumping, the constant beating to keep him alive. “We’re going to be fine.”
Tewkesbury laughed. “Oh, I know,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “I am here with you after all.”
Enola put her hand to her heart in an exaggerated way as he spun her around, but she smiled the smile that truly reached her eyes. “You flatter me, my lord Marquess of Bothersomeshire.”
At this point, both of them were good enough at dancing with one another that they barely had to take notice of when the set was over. He knew exactly how deep she liked to be dipped and that she tended to lean towards the left which he needed to compensate for. She knew his preferences and style too, but he was fairly certain she had known even before they had begun courting. Enola wasn’t her brother, but she could be equally as discerning.
“You’ve done your networking for today, right?” She asked him. “I realize I’ve told you everything my investigation here as borne, but you’ve told me nothing of your politicking.”
“Not talking about it is probably the best thing to be said about politicking,” he replied dryly. He didn’t want that nonsense spoiling his time with Enola, which he treasured more than nearly anything.
Enola made a disapproving sound. “Well, that would make us an unequal relationship, and I refuse to be party to one,” she announced.
“Enola,” Tewkesbury said, amused, “You’re an upper-middle class unmarried lady detective. I’m a Viscount and Marquess. According to society, we are technically already an ‘unequal’ relationship.”
“According to society, perhaps,” she responded. “But neither you nor I care for that. I meant between us, in our own opinion.” Tewkesbury opened his mouth, and then shut it, uncertain what to say. She continued, voice gentler now: “I want to know your troubles and – and support you, the way you do me,” she finished, sounding uncertain. “It isn’t an inconvenience or annoyance. It is a pleasure.”
Tewkesbury furrowed his eyebrows uncertainly. He was so used to keeping his cards to himself, his mother always too worried about him to be told of much political, and his uncle too – he feared – disapproving of his political stance. Then he wondered how he’d feel if Enola didn’t tell him about her cases. He’d probably panic about another ‘avoidance and misunderstandings’ fiasco that preceded their beginning courting.
“You’re right,” he conceded, and she smiled. He described his efforts to make allies for the upcoming vote, since most of the members and their wives were here. He admitted how exhausting and burdensome it could be at times. Enola watched him carefully, not saying much through his confession, apparently focused on dancing, but he knew she was logging every detail in her brain to turn over the ones she found interesting later.
“The ladies seem more responsive than the men, for some reason,” he shrugged as he finished.
Enola laughed softly. “I’m not surprised.”
“What do you mean?” He asked, puzzled.
“Colette Annesley keeps looking over here,” Enola murmured under her breath, nodding in the direction of the daughter of one of the Lords. “And in an increasingly agitatedly manner. Many of the girls are, honestly speaking. She wishes you were dancing with her.”
“Unfortunately for her, that isn’t going to happen,” Tewkesbury said amusedly. He considered the fact that the women were apparently easier to talk to and convince because he was a good marriageable prospect. He wasn’t particularly good at telling when girls were – as Enola put it – ‘throwing’ themselves at him. But he did notice the same pattern of behaviour in all the ones she told him were. Not that he needed the verification to believe her.
Enola could tell him the sky was purple and he’d nod his head solemnly and accept it, his uncle had teased once. Tewkesbury didn’t think he was that bad, but neither did he think that was much of an exaggeration. They were a couple who enjoyed teasing one another and arguing about little things for the sake of it, but not the large, important things.
“I remember the first time we were at a ball like this,” Tewkesbury had to snicker fondly at the memory. “You were jealous, and of Cicely of all people.”
“I was operating under incomplete information,” Enola informed him loftily, but her cheeks still turned pink.
“Not knowing the fact that I was, even then, head over heels in love with you,” he said, giving her a moment after that. He knew it still slightly flustered and surprised her every time he said it so easily. It saddened him immensely. He wished she could see how wonderful she was from his eyes.
Then again, she said the same thing about him, and often. They certainly made a pair.
“You really must stop saying things like that when we’re in public,” she said dignifiedly.
“Why?”
“Because it makes me want to draw you in the corner and do a few very indecent things,” she smirked, tossing her head.
“Well, I for one wouldn’t mind that,” Tewkesbury said, smirking back. “Admittedly, I wouldn’t mind stopping dancing, either.”
Enola made a face. “You have a point. My feet are beginning to hurt, which is terrible. What if I need to chase him down later?”
Tewkesbury raised an eyebrow. “You’ve arranged a meeting with him. Why would you need to run after him?”
Enola shrugged. “Somehow, whatever I do to investigate manages to culminate in a very daring run. Exciting, I suppose, but also exasperating.”
Tewkesbury thought back to the cases he’d seen her on. One particularly memorable one had had her running down the streets of London with a whole horde of people behind her, waving walking sticks and cooking utensils threateningly as she carried a goat and several dresses and dripped mud.
“Yes, you’re right, we should stop and get refreshments,” he agreed hurriedly.
As the set ended, they walked off the dancefloor, hand in hand, greeting some of the people they knew. Enola kept a wary eye out for Mycroft. They grabbed a few plates and some food and made their way to one of the alcoves which was fairly invisible from the floor, but a good observation spot.
“These muffins are good,” Enola hummed appreciatively, licking the crumbs off her fingers.
“Not as good as these cookies,” Tewkesbury dismissed, taking the last one from the plate.
“I haven’t had even one, give that to me!” Enola cried, tackling him and trying to take it from his hand.
“I took it, it’s mine!”
“That’s unfair!”
“It’s your fault for not taking one before!”
As they rolled around extremely inappropriately, Tewkesbury was very thankful the alcoves were separated and covered from one another using curtains. All thoughts of that, however, faded away when Enola trapped him between her arms and kissed him.
Every time they kissed, it was like every single one of his nerves ignited, and this time wasn’t any different. Enola had always made him feel like that, ever since he’d cut himself out of that bag and she’d walked out of the train compartment, rolling her eyes. At the time it was frustration, then incredulity, then admiration.
He still felt all of those things – only now all mixed up in love. Enola was it for him. He knew that.
Especially when she parted from him, smiled sweetly, plucked the cookie from his hand and bit into it. “Hmm, you’re right,” she said consideringly. “This is better than the cupcake.”
“You are the worst,” Tewkesbury told her seriously, and she grinned brightly, finishing up the cookie and now beginning to fix up her hair.
“And you lo-o-ve me,” she sang.
“Yes,” he agreed softly. “I do.”
Enola blinked at him, mouth parting in surprise. “I—” she swallowed. “I love you too.”
Tewkesbury opened his mouth to reply, heart pounding, but then they heard the gong of the clock. “It’s midnight,” he said, before Enola had the chance to. She looked solemn and yet had the glint of excited determination he adored so much in her eye. “He--?”
“Offered to meet me at midnight? Yep,” Enola finished. She traced the contours of his face with her fingers in a rather inappropriate way before drawing away. “I need to go. Bye, Tewky.”
Tewkesbury gently grabbed her wrist, brushing a kiss against the back of her knuckle. “The very best of luck, Miss Holmes.” He offered his good luck wishes, which he knew weren’t important – Enola succeeded due to her own merit and hard work, and that alone – but he could never let her walk out on one of her investigations without making sure she knew how much he loved her and hoped she succeeded.
“What about a good luck kiss?” Enola murmured, looking up at him, smiling widely.
Tewkesbury grinned. “Come back alive, and then we’ll see.”
Enola winked at him. “I’ll see you after I get him arrested. Keep it ready.” she said, before vanishing into the crowd.