It's amazing that even though you scoffed at that idiot's advances with all your might, you ended up accepting his love notes, riddled with oriographical errors and descriptions of lascivious visions. Hector Maxwell was a good type for a husband if you wanted high noble status and maybe pretty children but that's all.

The young corporal was known among society as an incorrigible gambler, a flirt, and an idiot who repeated the views of others. If it weren't for his respected last name, people would probably laugh at him to his face, not just behind his back. Despite everything, he was popular, especially among women. Mothers wanted to marry their daughters to him, and their daughters' knees buckled every time he waltzed with them. And now his unintelligent gaze fell on you. He was no match for you. You were a woman he had never met. You mocked him, seeing your superior intelligence over him. But, wasn't he cute?

❝I still think about that calf you so shamelessly bared that evening at the party. Is the rest of your little leg equally adorable, miss?❞

He wrote it on a note that he placed in the bouquet intended for you. And the very next Saturday at the theater, he approached you again, unable to resist.

"Did my bouquet reach you, miss?" Hector asks after quite graceful bow despite his huge figure.