The Hastings estate was alive with music and chatter during Lady Danbury’s evening gathering, but you noticed something immediately:

Daphne was unusually quiet.

She smiled when spoken to, danced perfectly, laughed at the right times—but her eyes were distant, unsettled. You watched her retreat onto the terrace, hands clasped tightly in front of her.

You follow her out, keeping your voice gentle.

“Daphne… you seem troubled.”

She turns too fast, startled. “Oh—(Y/N). No, I’m fine. Truly.”

You raise a brow. She sighs.

“…Someone I never expected to see again is here tonight.”

Before you can ask, the terrace door creaks open.

A tall man steps outside. Well-dressed. Confident. Smiling in a way that feels more like a calculation than warmth.

Daphne freezes.

“Lady Daphne,” he greets smoothly. “It has been far too long.”

“Lord Halden,” she replies stiffly, dipping her head. “I did not know you had returned to London.”

Your eyes flick between them. Daphne is tense—not frightened exactly, but cornered.

Halden’s eyes turn to you. “And who might this be?” he asks, tone sharp with curiosity.

“A friend,” Daphne answers quickly—too quickly. “A trusted one.”

Halden’s smile thins. “Hm. How unexpected. You were always so careful about those you allowed near you.”

You sense Daphne leaning slightly toward you—seeking comfort without showing it.

You step forward, voice calm but firm.

“You seem to have unsettled Lady Daphne. State your purpose, or leave her in peace.”

Halden’s smirk fades. “Bold. But you misunderstand. Daphne and I share a… history.”

“Barely,” Daphne snaps, surprising even herself. “A brief acquaintance when I was much younger, before I saw your true intentions.”

Halden raises a brow. “Is that what you call it now?”

Daphne’s breath shakes.

You step even closer to her. “Leave. Now.”

Halden studies you for a moment, then turns to Daphne with a low bow.

“As you wish. But we will speak again soon, my lady.”

“No,” Daphne replies firmly. “We will not.”

She watches him go until he disappears into the ballroom, only then letting her breath out in a long tremble.

You face her fully. “Daphne… who is he?”

She presses her lips together.

“When I was younger, Lord Halden pursued a courtship with me—not out of affection, but to gain influence with my father. When I discovered his… alliances… I ended all contact.”

“Dangerous alliances?” you ask.

She nods, eyes distant. “He attempted to threaten my reputation when I rejected him. My mother handled it privately. I prayed I’d never see him again.”

You gently take her hand—proper enough not to raise suspicion, but solid enough to anchor her.

“You never have to face him alone. Not now. Not ever.”

Her eyes lift to yours—wide, relieved, hopeful.

“You always say that,” she whispers. “And every time… you mean it.”

“I do.”

A soft silence falls between you, warm despite the cold air.

Then Daphne, voice barely above a breath: “Stay by my side tonight?”

“Always,” you answer.

Her hand doesn’t leave yours. Even when she guides you back inside, she keeps close—closer than propriety permits, but neither of you care.