Fairbourne Hall had never shone brighter. The entire county had gathered for the Grand Assembly, celebrating the Marquis of Ashworth's fiftieth year as master of the county. Every candle burned to its fullest, chandeliers glittered overhead like constellations, and the polished marble floor reflected swirls of silk and satin as dancers spun to the music of a full orchestra.
Eleanor stood at the threshold of the ballroom, her arm linked with her mother's. For a heartbeat, she faltered. The hall was overwhelming — the laughter, the perfume, the subtle undercurrent of expectation that seemed to ripple through the crowd. She smoothed the folds of her pale blue gown, her gloved fingers trembling slightly.
Her mother gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Hold your head high, Eleanor. This is your night."
And so she entered.
Whispers followed her like shadows. "The Beaumont girl looks divine." "Her beauty outshines even Lady Ashworth's daughters." "A perfect match for one of the Greystone boys." Fans fluttered, eyes lingered, and Eleanor felt the weight of every glance.
At the dais near the musicians, the parents gathered. Lady Greystone leaned close to Lady Beaumont, her voice soft but pointed. "Your daughter is admired by all this evening. It is clear she has blossomed into a true lady."
Lord Beaumont, pride shining in his gaze, inclined his head. "We are fortunate indeed. And your sons… William's charm is well-spoken of, and Theodore—" He hesitated, watching the elder boy at the edge of the crowd. "Theodore is a man of rare composure. A match between our houses would be blessed."
Lady Ashworth, ever eager to involve herself, interjected with a knowing smile. "The union of Beaumont and Greystone would secure the county's future. Wealth, honor, beauty — all tied neatly with a bow."
Lady Beaumont's fan fluttered faster. "We seek happiness for Eleanor above all. God will guide what is meant to be."
Meanwhile, Eleanor's heart had already forgotten the whispers, for across the ballroom, she spotted her brother.
"David!" she exclaimed, breaking free of the crowd as her elder brother approached.
He was taller now, his shoulders squared beneath the uniform of the King's guard. His brown hair caught the light, and though his jaw bore the marks of discipline, his eyes softened at the sight of her.
"Sister," he said warmly, embracing her despite the onlookers. "How you've grown. I hardly recognize you."
Eleanor laughed, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. "And you — you look every inch a soldier. Tell me, is training as dreadful as you feared?"
David chuckled, lowering his voice. "It is dreadful, yes, but in the way that makes a man stronger. Father will be proud when he sees me stand with the guard at court." He tapped her chin affectionately. "But no training could make me forget my little sister. You remain the heart of this family."
Before Eleanor could answer, a familiar voice cut in with theatrical timing.
"Forgive me, but I must interrupt this touching reunion," William declared, sweeping into a bow before her. His grin was as wide as ever, his presence bright as firelight. "Lady Eleanor, will you do me the honor of this dance? Or shall I concede you to your brother for the entire night?"
David laughed, shaking his head. "Go on, Eleanor. But save a waltz for me."
William offered his hand with flourish, and Eleanor could not help but smile as she placed her fingers in his. He led her onto the dance floor just as the orchestra struck a lively measure.
They spun, and laughter bubbled from her lips as William twirled her with reckless precision. He told her jokes between steps, whispered exaggerated compliments that made her blush and laugh all at once. Around them, people watched with approving smiles — the Beaumont daughter and the younger Greystone son, radiant together under the chandeliers.
From the shadows at the edge of the ballroom, Theodore watched.
He stood perfectly still, a glass of claret in his hand, though he had not touched it. His gaze was fixed on Eleanor, her laughter, the warmth she shared with his brother. He told himself it was only natural. William had always been more charming, more outspoken, more daring. Of course Eleanor gravitated to him.
Yet when she laughed — that bright, unguarded sound — something inside Theodore twisted sharply, a pain he buried beneath his calm expression.
Lady Ashworth's voice reached him faintly from the dais: "The Beaumont girl and the Greystone heir — what a match it would be."
His parents nodded politely, their eyes sliding toward him. But Theodore barely heard them. His thoughts were consumed by the girl on the dance floor, the one he had loved since childhood yet had never written, never spoken to, never dared claim.
The dance ended in applause, William bowing dramatically as Eleanor curtsied. Her cheeks glowed, her eyes bright, and Theodore knew with dreadful certainty that if he remained silent much longer, William's laughter might carry her heart away for good.
Still, when Eleanor glanced toward him across the ballroom, he did not step forward. He only bowed his head slightly, the gesture almost imperceptible — and when she looked away, he wondered if she even noticed.