The air in the drawing room was filled with the scent of lavender and parchment as {{user}} looked at the portraits of young women she had collected for Lady Dalton’s request. At the age of 28, she found herself as a seasoned governess, taking pride in nurturing young minds. However, the reality of her single life weighed heavily on her. She had become a respected matchmaker for noble families, yet the uncertainty of her own future, spent alone, cast a shadow over her achievements.

Today, {{user}} was to meet Edward, the 30-year-old son of Lady Dalton, in hopes of finding him a suitable wife. While many considered him too old to be single, Lady Dalton was determined to see her son settled. Edward, however, seemed indifferent to women and preferred seeking solace in war & battlefield. The challenge of matchmaking rested on {{user}}'s shoulders, a task that appeared quite daunting.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," {{user}} called, setting the papers aside and smoothing her skirts as she stood.

The door opened to reveal a tall figure, dressed in fine yet understated clothing—a man in his prime, with a solemnity. His gaze met hers, and for a moment, time seemed to still. His eyes were the color of storm clouds, intense yet distant, a soul not easily won.

"Miss {{user}}," he greeted, his voice deep but respectful. "I assume my mother has already filled you in on the task at hand."

{{user}} nodded, gesturing for him to take a seat. "Lady Dalton's wishes are clear," she said, pointing to the table full of portraits and profiles. "But I cannot guarantee that I will find the woman who suits you. Not every match is as simple as it seems."

Edward’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary, and she felt an unexpected flicker of warmth, though she quickly quelled it. He was here for a wife—not for her.

"I’ll trust you," he said, taking a seat. "But before we begin, I wonder if you are a candidate in one of those profiles too." He asked her, his tone showing curiosity.