The Proletarian of Mayfair

Chapter Nine

"There are only a few words a woman wishes to hear whilst being courted: Will you marry me?"
The Romantic Writings of O.B.P.S.

Is it okay that I call you Olivia?

No matter how many times Olivia read over the letter, her answer never changed.

Of course he could call her Olivia. Her heart raced when she thought of what it would sound like to hear that word from his lips. It felt like her legs would melt under her. She imagined his voice and nothing felt better in the whole world.

How had no one described this feeling before to her? Love felt like every good emotion mixed up in one. Love was the best part of the world, every good thing wrapped up in one.

Now, she wished to find the freedom to show the smile she had been hiding since the letter was placed on her desk. There was not a single person who would tell her where it came from, but it was obvious it did not come through typical channels. If it had, her Aunt Daphne would have presented it to her. This was the work of some secretive servant.

"I am pleased to see you saw the letter," Her ladies' maid whispered in her ear. "If you ever wish to reply, simply place your letter where you found this one."

"Anne, this was your doing?" She looked surprised to hear Olivia's questioning tone.

"If you did not—"

"No, no. I am grateful. This is perfect. Thank you very much." Olivia made sure to clear that up before any miscommunication occurred. Anne deflated with relief.

"I am happy to. He truly likes you if he is willing to do this much to talk with you." They shared big smiles. Olivia had to stifle her squeal of delight at this prospect. With nothing left for Anne to do for the night, she leaves the young miss to her devices, and her wild imagination.

She read the letter one last time to sear it into her brain.

Dearest Olivia Bridgerton-Sharpe

There are so many words I could say, but there are not many I can simply write. I can only hope I see half the dimensions you hold. You are the most beautiful of women and have the most striking of minds.

There is not a woman who can match your wisdom or wit. If I could ask for any woman in the world, I choose to believe she would closely resemble you. Not one young miss I have met holds herself the way you always do.

It may be a difficult truth to read, but my mother does not approve of you with a single unmarried gentleman of the ton, especially myself. I refuse to allow such a narrow-minded view about one of the best women I have ever met, and know that I would be doing myself a disservice if I did not pursue you.

So, as the days continue during this sham everyone constitutes the marriage mart and season, I wish to know you. Even if it is only as a friend, I wish to know everything about you. I believe in building friendships with the right people and you are one of them. If you think the same, find me where we met at eight tomorrow morning.

I will be patiently waiting,

Benjamin Twombley

Before I forget, is it okay to call you Olivia? Miss Bridgerton-Sharpe is rather a handful. In any case, I will refer to you with the more proper name until I hear from you again. It would be inappropriate to assume one way or another. You may call me Ben. In fact, I insist on it.