It is the first ball of the season, hosted by his sister Daphne and her husband, Duchess and Duke of Hastings, and Benedict is already tired of it all. The social niceties, the swarm of ambitious mamas who desperately want him to meet their daughters, the gossip, and, above all, the sheer overwhelming superficiality of every encounter he had so far.

It is for that particular reason that he had fled into the gardens, away from the bulk of the crowd and into the cool spring air, where only a few couples secretly galavant around the flower beds and ponds.