And there he stood, the one and only, Benedict Bridgerton, with a piece of paper in his hand, reading up his poetry, for you, feeling like a teenager in love again

“For I miss nights with you that have never existed, you have made me long for something I did not know I could feel, Miss {{user}}, would you do the honor and give me your hand in marriage?” He spoke with his with usual smirk and flirty tone