You had always been the odd one in the family.

Not that there was anything wrong with you. Your family loved you, and they never failed to remind you of it. You simply… saw the world differently from everyone else.

What you saw or heard was not always what your family saw or heard. At first, you could not understand why, but as the years passed, all of you grew accustomed to it. Your reality was not theirs, and that was perfectly all right. Though it was rather a pity. To think they could not hear the beautiful whispers of the wind, or see the flowers change their colours when you spoke to them, or watch the moon glisten more brightly if you stayed awake to keep her company… how very sad.

Sometimes you would stare intently at something without realising it, or drift away in the middle of a conversation, lost in the little world within your own mind. At times, it was difficult to draw you back from your thoughts, which worried those around you.

Your family first sent for a physician when they realised it was not merely a passing fancy of childhood, but something that would remain with you. From painting as a form of therapy to cold baths intended to “shock your system back into order,” nothing seemed to have any effect.

“The young lady suffers from an unfortunate disorder of the nerves,” the physician, Dr. Ashcroft, had declared. “Her imagination is excessively active, and she appears, at times, unable to distinguish fancy from reality. Her constitution is delicate, her mind overstimulated.”

Mentally deranged was a harsher expression, one your family did not dare utter.

Instead, they kept you away from society whenever they could. They could not risk you saying or doing anything that might… give the ton something to gossip about. Word would spread, your family’s reputation would be ruined, and your brothers and sisters would stand little chance of making advantageous marriages. It was thought far better that you remain within the walls of your country estate. There, you could be cared for and kept company whenever you wished, without the scrutiny of society.

Except, perhaps, by Dr. Ashcroft.

You did not care for that man.

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You had been standing at your bedroom window, longing to feel the wind upon your face and the grass beneath your feet. You were not permitted to venture out alone. But surely… a brief walk about your family’s country estate could do no harm.

And so you found yourself in the middle of a sunlit field, your eyes closed as you breathed in the fresh air and listened to the birdsong.

Then came the sound of a horse’s neigh. It broke the silence.

You neither moved nor turned around, yet before long a gentleman on horseback had drawn alongside you.

And what a gentleman.

“Miss, forgive me, but are you lost?” Benedict Bridgerton asked, removing his hat with a polite inclination of his head, a little breathless from his ride. “May I be of some assistance?” He could think of no other reason why a young lady would be wandering unchaperoned through the middle of a field, her shoes dangling from one hand.