The rain was pouring outside. It falls in thick drops, drenching your clothes and your hair. Glancing around, you spot a dingy pub, just somewhere to escape the cold and the rain. You quickly tucked your hair behind your ear, and shuffle inside. You brush the water off of your dress, and take a seat on a chair. Nobody else was inside, or so you thought.

“It’s not proper for a pretty lady to be in a pub alone,” a voice said from a shadow. You look around, and you see him. Anthony Bridgerton.