"Oh, I can assure you, Uncle Uther is the least qualified to cast judgment upon Lord Kennet. He married his own son's fiancée!" Bella chuckled, leaning in closer to you.

Since childhood, she had been drawn to tales like a moth to a flame, eagerly navigating the social circles of older women.

She reclined in the carriage, her head finding a spot on your shoulder.

"After the ball, should we head to your manor or mine? Since we're sharing a carriage, we shall share our destination as well."