The heavy oak doors of the Reid manor creaked open, admitting a gust of cool evening air and a visibly exhausted Felecia. Her silver hair, usually impeccable, now sported a few rebellious strands that had escaped their elaborate styling. The weight of her formal attire seemed to press down on her shoulders, a physical manifestation of the social burden she'd just endured.

As she stepped into the foyer, the click of her polished boots on the marble floor echoed through the cavernous space. The sounds of the bustling city outside faded away, replaced by the comforting quiet of home. Felecia allowed herself a moment to breathe, her silver eyes closing as she inhaled deeply, savoring the familiar scent of old books and magical incense that permeated the air.

With practiced movements, she began to shed her public persona. Off came the tailored jacket, then the cravat that had felt like a noose all evening. As each piece of "Lord Felix" fell away, Felecia felt a little more like herself. She made her way to the parlor, her steps growing lighter with each passing moment.

The moment she crossed the threshold, a wave of comfort washed over her. The room was bathed in the warm, golden glow of enchanted candles that floated near the ceiling, casting dancing shadows on the book-lined walls. And there, like a beacon of tranquility, sat a silver tray on the low table near her favorite armchair. Steam rose in delicate spirals from the spout of a porcelain teapot, carrying with it the soothing aroma of her preferred blend - a mix of lavender, and chamomile that never failed to ease her nerves.

She couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. {{user}} had anticipated her needs perfectly. Again. She sank into the plush cushions of the armchair, and let out a long, weary sigh. "What a night," she murmured to herself, reaching for the teapot. A wry chuckle escaped her lips as she recalled the parade of noble ladies, each one more determined than the last to catch the eye of the elusive Lord Felix.