In the affluent town of Barrowberg, the morning sun shimmered off polished stone carriages that rolled through the winding streets, their gilded edges catching the light like molten gold. Each carriage was drawn by meticulously groomed horses, their hooves clattering lightly against cobblestone, announcing the arrival of the town's most distinguished families. At the grand estate they were heading to, the gardens were immaculate, with hedges trimmed into precise geometric patterns and fountains that reflected the sunlight in sparkling arcs.
In the garden, nobles had already begun to gather. Women in flowing silk gowns moved gracefully across the manicured lawns, their whispered conversations like delicate music carried on the breeze. They discussed the latest gossip, recounting in hushed tones the events that had transpired at the recent ball, their words laced with admiration, envy, or judgment. The men, distinguished in finely tailored coats and top hats, formed tight clusters, their discussions deep in politics, trade, and alliances, their voices firm but controlled over the soft murmuring of the crowd.
The lively chatter halted almost immediately when two figures appeared at the garden gate. All eyes shifted toward them, the energy of the gathering snapping taut like a drawn bowstring. The Thel siblings entered side by side, walking with a poise that drew attention naturally.
Lady Tabitha wore a gown of deep sapphire blue that hugged her figure, the delicate lace cinching tightly at her waist and subtly lifting her décolletage. The fabric shimmered as she moved, catching the light in varying shades of midnight and cobalt. Her long hair, pulled up at the back, cascaded into large curls that tumbled over her shoulder, framing her face with effortless elegance. Her jewelry—a necklace and earrings matching the rich hue of her gown—glimmered subtly as she turned her head to greet familiar faces.
Beside her, her older brother, Lord Noel, carried himself with confident composure. His tailored coat hugged broad shoulders, and his polished boots tapped lightly against the marble paths of the estate. A warm, polite smile rested on his face, greeting each noble they passed.
"Lord Noel, Lady Tabitha, we are pleased you made it well. Welcome," Lady Bernie said warmly, bowing slightly as her husband nodded in agreement.
"Thank you for having us, Lady Bernie, and Lord Martins," Noel replied, his smile unfaltering, his voice carrying with quiet authority that seemed to calm the surrounding tension.
Tabitha excused herself gracefully, the skirts of her gown swishing as she moved toward the cluster of ladies gathered near the center of the garden. Her movements were fluid, each step measured yet natural, betraying both her confidence and the curiosity burning quietly within her.
"Lady Tabitha, pleased you could make it," Lady Aubrey greeted immediately, reaching to clasp Tabitha's hand in a polite gesture of acknowledgment.
Tabitha responded with a simple hum, a measured acknowledgment as her gaze swept across the room. Her eyes scanned past the assembled crowd, moving carefully over each figure until they landed on the one person she had come to see—the gentleman she had encountered at the ball days ago. A subtle tension tightened in her chest as she observed him from afar, her mind recalling the impression he had left, and the thought of meeting him again sent a quiet ripple of anticipation through her composure.
The garden, with its flowers, fountains, and murmuring nobles, seemed to fade into the background as Tabitha's focus sharpened. In that moment, the world had narrowed to a single figure, and the whispers of the crowd became little more than a distant hum, as though fate itself had slowed the flow of time around her.
Taking a slow, steady breath, Tabitha gathered her courage and began walking toward him.
The distance between them was not far, yet each step felt strangely heavy. Her heels pressed softly against the gravel path as the sounds of conversation and laughter around the garden seemed to dull into the background. Her heart thundered violently in her chest, so loud she feared those nearby might hear it.
She clasped her trembling hands together in front of her, pressing her fingers tightly against one another in an effort to calm herself.
When she was close enough, she called softly.
"Lord Darl."
The man turned.
The moment his eyes met hers, a warm smile spread across his lips. It was effortless and pleasant, the sort of smile that made him appear charming without trying.
That simple reaction loosened the tension inside Tabitha's chest, and she felt some of her nervousness melt away.
"Lady Tatiana," he greeted politely. "How have you been?"
For a brief moment, her heart dropped like a stone sinking through water. The name echoed unpleasantly in her ears. Still, the smile on her lips did not falter, though it tightened slightly as she corrected him.
"It's Tabitha, Lord Darl."
"Ah—my apologies," he said quickly, giving a light chuckle. "Lady Tabitha."
He studied her for a moment, his expression shifting from polite amusement to something more thoughtful.
"There's been something that has been bothering me since the ball," he said, his voice lowering slightly as though sharing a secret. "And I was hoping to ask something of you."
Tabitha felt her breath catch in her throat.
Her heart suddenly began racing again, but this time for a completely different reason.
Was he going to propose?
The thought struck her so suddenly that it made her dizzy. Surely… it was possible. The two of them had danced together at the ball, after all. Perhaps she had made such an unforgettable impression that he had spent the days since thinking of her.
Her mind spun with images—her becoming Lady Darl, the admiration and envy of every noblewoman present, the whispers that would spread across Barrowberg.
Yes… many of the women here would be absolutely devoured with jealousy.
"Proceed, my lord," she said softly, her voice carefully controlled despite the storm of anticipation inside her.
"Would you…"
Her pulse roared in her ears.
This was it.
She could almost hear the imaginary gasp of the crowd already.
"Do me the honour—"
"Yes!" she blurted loudly.
Her voice rang across the garden like a sudden bell.
Several nearby nobles turned their heads immediately, startled by the outburst.
Tabitha froze.
Realizing what she had done, she quickly forced a bright, embarrassed smile onto her face and gave a small apologetic gesture. Slowly, the attention drifted away again as people returned to their conversations.
"Terrific!" Lord Darl said enthusiastically, completely delighted.
His broad grin only strengthened Tabitha's belief that she had been correct.
"Since the ball," he continued cheerfully, "I've been trying to find her, but the men won't talk. They think they have a chance with her themselves."
Tabitha blinked.
The words did not quite settle in her mind.
Her brows slowly pulled together.
"What?" she whispered faintly. "Who… are we talking about?"
"That pleasant maiden at the ball!" Lord Darl replied eagerly. "The one with dark skin and those remarkable blue eyes. I had the opportunity to dance with her that night. We spoke only briefly, but I must say… she completely stole my heart."
He continued speaking animatedly, clearly lost in the memory.
But he failed to notice the slow change spreading across Tabitha's face.
The color drained from her expression, replaced by something darker. Her lips pressed tightly together, the corners stiff with restrained emotion.
Her chest burned.
"Excuse me," she said stiffly, offering a quick, polite bow.
Without waiting for another word, she turned and walked away.
Her steps were fast, controlled, and dignified—at least until she reached the far end of the garden where the hedges blocked her from view.
The moment she was certain no one could see her—
She screamed.
The sound ripped out of her throat sharp and furious, echoing against the hedges.
"I can't believe this!" she hissed to herself, pacing furiously.
Everyone had been talking about that girl.
Everyone.
The whispers had spread like wildfire since the ball. Noblemen praising her beauty. Noblewomen speculating about her origins. Even her own brother had mentioned her more than once with curiosity.
What was so special about her?
Tabitha's fists clenched at her sides.
And to think—she had actually believed Lord Darl was about to propose.
The humiliation burned hotter the longer she thought about it.
No one seemed to know anything about the mysterious girl. She had appeared at the ball like a ghost and vanished just as quickly. Those few who had managed to discover a hint of her identity were keeping the information to themselves, unwilling to share it with potential rivals.
Which only made Tabitha even more furious.
Ever since she was a child, she had always been the center of attention.
The jewel of every gathering. The young lady everyone admired. The one men competed to dance with. The belle of the ball.
But ever since that woman appeared…
The spotlight had shifted away from her.
And Tabitha absolutely detested it.