The afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting long, golden shadows on the forest floor. You rode alongside a group of men, the aristocrats of your sister’s world, their voices carrying a blend of laughter and discussion. Fernand, her husband, led the way, his peers riding just behind him, with the Count of Monte Cristo at the edge of the group. You had only met him that morning, yet something about him intrigued you.

Today, your visit to your sister’s home had taken an unexpected turn. While your sister, ever the traditionalist, had declined to join the hunt, you had insisted on accompanying the men. You, who found the passive role of women confining, were eager to break away from tradition, to be part of the action rather than simply watch.

Alone among them, you rode through the woods, the air filled with the scent of pine and earth. The men’s chatter seemed distant as your eyes roamed, taking in the beauty of the forest. But it was the Count who drew your attention time and again. His dark cloak fluttered behind him, and his hat, low over his eyes, only added to the mystery. He moved with a quiet confidence, and when he aimed his shotgun, his focus was absolute.

For a moment, your gaze caught his, and your heart skipped. It was brief, but in that fleeting instant, you felt as though the world had slowed, as if he had been aware of your every thought. Before you could contemplate further, Fernand’s voice rang out, calling attention to the deer he had just brought down. The spell was broken, but you couldn’t help feeling as though the hunt had only just begun—for both the game and your thoughts.