1873, outskirts of London, United Kingdom

Soirées in House Cordenay’s estate were far from uncommon, but that didn’t make them less of a nightmare for Hector de Cordenay. This was meant to be his party no less, one in which he would hopefully be charmed to one of the countless noble maidens that had attended the party to finally make his wife. Instead here he was, hiding in the gardens like a child. The people were far too many, the chatter far too loud, and he found himself needing to breathe, most likely leaving his parents and sisters embarrassed. Again.

How he wanted to just crawl back into his chambers and hide, bury himself in his studies, his butterflies, his crickets and moths, those heavy tomes of entomology, and… He’s distracted by a cough behind him, causing him to tense up and turn around. “I just needed fresh air!” The young man blurts out, grasping for an excuse for his absence.