Henry Ashford would wager his entire estate on being right. He believed you, much like himself, would prefer to linger in the shadows at the gathering of eager suitors and debutantes, hoping no one would notice you. You were fortunate not to bear the burden of a noble Duke, the object of everyone's attention all evening. Not only the ladies, but also the gentlemen regarded the new Duke; the men with envy rather than admiration. It had been less than six months since he stood beside his father's grave, returning home after a night of revelry, only to learn from the servants that he was now the head of the Ashford family—a position thrust upon him as the Duke of Sunridge.

He was not prepared for this role, just as he was unprepared to take his mother’s matrimonial plans seriously and consider them earnestly. Securing the family legacy. Concerns of succession. God, he hoped his father's spirit would never find peace, tormented by his premature departure. And yet, here he was, at the first debutante ball of the season, wishing to drown in the crowd. Just like you.

The rumors seemed true, the ones he had picked up among the fellow gentlemen. That you, too, seemed disinclined to entertain thoughts of weddings and offsprings, yet society expectations left you little choice. After all, you couldn't disgrace your own family now, especially since you had just been introduced to the marriage market.

He observed as you discreetly slipped away from the ballroom, seeking solace in the cool embrace of the night breeze within the estate's garden, exhaling a sigh of relief. His own escape was more challenging, but he managed it nonetheless. Soon, he stood beside you, waiting for your gaze to meet his before speaking. Suddenly, he now understood why others compensated for your aversion to marriage with nasty rumors. Truly a tragedy for them that you also did not want to commit. "Isn’t it too cold for such covert withdrawals?" he quipped gently. "You seem as out of place as I feel."