Solicitor Oscar Suthersby found himself both astounded and disconcerted upon learning the details of Mr. Reginald Sullivan's departure from this world. Nevertheless, Rose withheld certain particulars, sharing only what was necessary to manage the legal formalities for transferring the estate to her younger son, Felix Gray, the newly minted Earl of Sullivan. With this matter resolved, Oscar's thoughts were free to turn to the captivating Lady Aileen Price, a young woman whose fiery spirit had captured his attention. Their time together, though brief, had left a lasting impression on him. However, he grappled with the societal chasm that separated them, wondering how to bridge the divide.

As Oscar pondered this, his landlady, Mrs. Smith, persisted with her ongoing commentary about his lack of a wife:

"So young and handsome, and yet without a wife, Mr. Suthersby. You risk letting the prime of your life slip through your fingers and ending up in solitude."

Oscar sighed and responded with a hint of sarcasm, "Don't they say that men enjoy the prime of life throughout their entire existence?"

Mrs. Smith let out a disapproving snort. "That's the talk of your ilk, only to stroke your own ego, nothing more."

She continued with her grumbling, but Oscar no longer paid her any attention. Instead, he focused on a small piece of paper resting on the table before him. It was an invitation to Covent Garden to see the Smith brothers' quartet, a promise he had made to Lady Price in Hertford, conveyed through his dear friend, Lord Waterford. When Oscar had shared this idea with his lordship, the latter had simply raised an eyebrow and chuckled heartily.

"Oscar, my dear friend! It wasn't so long ago that you were mourning the heart you left behind in Virginia. It appears you've managed to grow a new one it in the interim!"

Oscar smiled and replied, "I must admit I'm surprised as well, my friend, truly! Yet Lady Aileen Price is indeed a captivating and accomplished lady."

And somewhat audacious too, Oscar added inwardly. Lord Waterford nodded thoughtfully.

"You see, if you were interested in a baron's or viscount's daughter, the path would be less thorny. But a duke's? You're aiming quite high, Oscar, especially after one of your kin married the Duke of Hertfordshire. It's not by any means an ancient history; society still remembers it quite well," he remarked sagely. Nevertheless, he reached for a quill, inkwell, and parchment on the table. "But there's nothing suspicious nor unwelcome about a simple invitation to Covent Garden, is there?" he conspiratorially winked at the solicitor and swiftly penned the invitation.

Oscar smiled at the memory of the conversation with Lord Waterford and held the small invitation in his hand. After all, there was nothing unusual about an invitation to the opera box, especially with Waterford's name on it.

"I hope you're going to meet your mistress," Mrs. Smith muttered as she saw the young man standing up and departing through the door. Instead of a response, Oscar only grinned.

He handed the invitation to a messenger found in the street along a good coin, and when the November day arrived, Covent Garden was about to be filled with the sounds of a famous quartet. Oscar found himself alone in the opera box a moment before the performance began. Just before the curtains were drawn, the door to the box opened, and Lord Waterford took a seat in the cushioned chair next to Oscar. The expression on his countenance whispered of ill tidings.

"I do apologize, Oscar, but a mere few days prior to the performance, I received correspondence from the Duchess of Hertfordshire, apprising me that, regrettably, unforeseen exigencies prevent her and Lady Aileen from gracing this concert with their presence."

Oscar concurred with a nod and exchanged a few words with his companion before the latter made his way back to his wife in his private box. Shortly thereafter, the resonant tone of a gong signified the commencement of the musical presentation. The harmonies of the orchestra filled the hall, led by musicians who were nothing less than splendid. Their Parisian coiffures, coupled with the robust baritones that resonated throughout, delighted the audience. The repertoire encompassed songs that conveyed both sorrow and jubilation, themes of love and animosity, which, when woven together, depicted the nuances of an entire year.

In an unexpected turn of events, one of the Smith brothers, a member of the quartet, parted from his fellow musicians and made the following announcement:

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have prepared a unique delight for you tonight! An ethereal voice, gracing an angelic countenance! Her melody is like a divine revelation, kindling the flames of benevolence; her affection can soften even the most unyielding heart. Allow me to introduce a pupil hailing from the esteemed Italian opera school – please extend a warm reception to Miss Lucinda Vane!"

The crowd erupted like never before, and the presentation of Miss Vane took Oscar by surprise. He had heard of her only in passing, yet never had the opportunity to witness her in the flesh. He gazed intently at the stage where a young woman appeared, clad in a flowing gown of azure hue. Upon her head, a headdress reminiscent of a bouquet framed her sunlit tresses, which cascaded like golden waves. With her fair complexion, delicate heart-shaped lips, and a smile that could disarm any gentleman, she began by acknowledging the quartet. However, her words were nearly lost in the midst of enthusiastic applause.

After a brief moment, she positioned herself at the centre of the stage, her stance one of poise, beauty, and an unwavering determination to captivate the hearts of those in attendance. Oscar observed her with keen interest, paying close attention to each nuance of her serene countenance. Yet the most astounding revelation came when she parted her lips, and the initial notes escaped them. The audience fell silent immediately, every individual entranced by the voice that, through some miraculous means, belonged to this relatively petite woman. Whence does she summon such divine strength? Oscar contemplated.

In her singing, there was an abundance of emotion and masterful artistry. As she finished the lyric, it captivated the entire audience at Covent Garden into a standing ovation, including Oscar Suthersby. She then departed after her performance, but the crowd demanded her return twice during the Smith Brothers Quartet's act. As the final curtain fell, Oscar exited his box, profoundly moved. It was as though that young woman had imparted a piece of herself and her fiery passion into him.

"Oscar, pray, do come and join us for a moment!" Lord Waterford exclaimed when he spotted Oscar in the corridor.

As Oscar navigated his way through the departing guests to reach his friend and Lord Waterford's wife, who then placed his hand upon Oscar's shoulder.

"Miss Lucinda Vane, I would like the pleasure of introducing someone to you personally."

Initially, Oscar hadn't noticed her; she stood slightly to the side of Lord Waterford, a robust man who almost entirely concealed her. But as his eyes met her large, grey orbs, he knew he was utterly captivated once more.

"This, my dear, is Mr. Oscar Suthersby, a solicitor from the city, and soon to be a judge, I believe," Lord Waterford introduced him, whereupon Oscar gallantly kissed her hand.

"I'm most pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Suthersby. Lord Waterford has spoken highly of you," Lucinda said with a smile, to which Oscar replied, "I hope it was in a favourable manner. If not, know that Lord Waterford has a penchant for embellishment," he quipped.

The conversation flowed in a genteel manner, and both Oscar and Lucinda felt there was more between them than mere understanding...

Nonetheless, the frosty November was now a distant, fleeting memory. Even Lady Elizabeth Price would no longer recollect that she and her daughter, Aileen, were once invited to Covent Garden by a certain Lord Waterford. These days, the two women had different worries and Mayfair House was often a hotbed of tension. Isabella had hence seized the opportunity to pay a visit to Eliza and Daniel. With Felix gallivanting across Europe, Daniel had assumed additional responsibilities to keep his estate in upkeep. Eliza frequently found herself in solitude or in the company of her mother-in-law, Rose Gray. However, the Duchess of Northumberland was more often than not sequestered indoors, likely due to concerns about her own husband, Conrad Gray. Eliza was well-versed in the details of the attack that had transpired before she herself was shot, and she empathized with her kind mother-in-law. Still, she often felt like a caged bird.

And so, she welcomed any diversion, whether it came in the form of visitors or the occasional family member's visit. Those moments when they could come together were truly cherished, much like the day when she and Isabella strolled through Hyde Park, their arms intertwined.

"...It truly perplexes me that there are so few quality books available. It's as though a malaise has befallen authors, and now there's a dearth of new publications. My novels have become so well-worn that their pages are on the verge of crumbling to dust," Eliza lamented, casting a sidelong glance at Isabella.

Yet, her sister seemed mentally distant from the topic at hand. Eliza sighed and came to a halt, positioning herself squarely before her sister.

"I need not even glance your way to sense that you're not heeding my words. Are you concerned for Aileen?"

Bella met her gaze and released a heavy sigh.

"Yes, I am concerned for her. On one hand, I believe she must've been out of her senses to venture to that inn with Lord Kendall. On the other hand, perhaps I can comprehend the reasons behind her actions."

Eliza arched her brow, sensing a note of seriousness in her sister's voice.

"She envies you," Isabella continued, her gaze fixed upon the park beyond. "In fact, if I may be candid, we both envy you heavily. She wished to have with Kendall what you share with Daniel."

The older of the sisters took Bella's hand and quietly inquired about something she had been curious about for some time. "And you, Bella? Who has captured your heart?"

Bella sighed, meeting her sister's amber gaze with her blue eyes, knowing it was the moment to reveal her true feelings. "It's the Marquess St. Arcey," she confessed at long last. When she saw that Eliza took the revelation in stride, she added, "I thought it might come as a surprise to you."

Eliza nodded and smiled. "I had my suspicions when I almost caught you at Lady Kendall's ball. Those suspicions grew when you mentioned him by his given name that time when you scolded me for my indecision. But it wasn't until our recent visit to Reading that I realized he occupied your thoughts. Your face showed signs of both profound suffering and disappointment."

Bella let out a genteel sigh and discreetly dabbed at her eyes to prevent any tears from cascading down her countenance. The weight of the truth she had finally unburdened herself with was nothing short of liberating. She had divulged sentiments she had long concealed, sentiments that, like a cherished secret, had been locked away for a dozen moons.

"I committed an imprudent act, dear Eliza – not as egregious as Aileen's," she hastily confessed, mindful of the alarm that had briefly flickered in her sister's eyes. "I penned amorous epistles to Travis, confessing the depth of my affection for him, and on a subsequent occasion, in a moment of inattention... I dared to bestow a kiss upon him. I continue to feel a simpleton for such imprudence, as he has always directed his eyes and affections solely toward you."

Upon completing her revelation, Eliza enfolded her in a sisterly embrace. Bella welcomed this supportive gesture, for she had half expected her sister to reproach her or interject with a sardonic remark.

"Nonetheless, Travis has always epitomized the qualities of a gentleman, ensuring that my actions would neither imperil myself nor him," Bella continued in a hushed voice. "Except, in Reading... he seems an entirely different man, Eliza. I can scarcely recognize the gentleman who once graced us with his presence. He unequivocally rejected my friendship, expelling me unkindly from his life."

They lingered in each other's embrace for a while before parting. Eliza spoke first:

"I understand that today's pain is sharp, but in time, you may look back and even find some amusement in it. Perhaps this event has done you a great service, and you'll be free to consider other suitors."

Bella shook her head.

"I have no desire to contemplate other suitors, Eliza, and I wish to avoid dwelling on matters of love altogether. Marriage is not something I wish to pursue, and I'm afraid of risking my affections with the wrong man once more. People keep assuring me that the right one will come into my life, but what if he doesn't?! How can anyone be so certain?"

She sounded determined, yet beneath her words lay the ache of unfulfilled desires. Eliza, understanding the hollowness of empty clichés, chose to be forthright. Her younger sister was correct—no one could foretell the future. Taking Bella's hand, they continued down the path when an idea struck her.

"You need more time to heal from Travis, and I may have a solution. What if you accompanied Daniel and me to Newcastle? You could assist me during childbirth and care for our firstborn."

Bella halted in surprise.

"You are...?"

"We thought it might have happened by now, but not yet," Eliza nodded, refusing to let disappointment consume her thoughts. "Though, in my case, conceiving was bound to be a bit challenging."

Eliza touched the place where a certain Duke from Kent had shot her just months ago, in his attempt to take away all their assets. Since the gunshot wound was near her womb, the doctor had warned her that she might never conceive a child, or the chances of miscarriage were much higher than for healthy women. Nonetheless, Daniel and Eliza did not let it deter them from trying. Making love was, after all, a pleasurable part of their shared life, with or without the prospect of a child. And God knew that she wanted to give a child to a man like Daniel more than anything.

Isabella took a deep breath and replied, "I'll go, but what about Arden? Aileen will be in Hertford with our parents, I'll be in Newcastle, and he will be alone in London. After all, he too isn't going through an easy time, is he?," she added.

"That's true, but our brother has always been a strong man, sometimes impulsive in his actions and words, but I believe that a broken heart won't transform him into a character akin to the Marquess St. Arcey."

Bella had to admit that Eliza was right. Besides women, Arden had many hobbies and interests to occupy his mind and steer his thoughts away from his recent heartache. She didn't envy him, though. While Bella didn't want to make comparisons, she would bet all her chips that he was enduring far greater agony than herself.

While his sisters enjoyed a leisurely stroll in Hyde Park, Arden resolved to pay a visit to his old acquaintance, Mr. Burnett. He found himself rather despondent and sought an empathetic confidant, someone beyond his immediate family, who could offer a fresh perspective. Upon Mr. Burnett opening the door, Arden was struck by his friend's effervescent countenance. Not that Mr. Burnett was typically a sombre soul, but on this occasion, he exuded an unusual aura of bliss, a quality Arden hadn't previously encountered in him.

"Ah, Arden, it's indeed you! Come in, come in, for I bear the most splendid tidings," Mr. Burnett exclaimed, nearly ushering Arden into the chambers of his city home.

"It warms my heart to see you, Mr. Burnett," Arden replied. Swiftly, they found themselves within the homely confines of the kitchen, where Arden's gaze alighted upon a guest seated at the table. The gentleman had a partially drained glass of wine before him.

Arden's initial reaction was astonishment, yet this soon gave way to unrestrained delight at the sight of his old friend. "Cole! By the heavens, is it truly you, Cole?!"

With a hearty chuckle, Cole Burnett rose from his seat. "Indeed, Arden, or should I address you as 'your Lordship'? It is none other than myself!"

"Let us dispense with formalities, my good man; we remain, above all else, steadfast friends," Arden declared as they warmly embraced.

After parting, a space opened for Arden to behold his returning friend. Cole, who ventured into war in search of either fortune or an early demise, stood before him. He was a man of stature, slightly taller than Arden, with his blond locks cascading nearly to his shoulders, framing a visage adorned with piercing blue eyes, a well-defined nose, and thin lips. Weariness marked his countenance, evident in the shadows beneath his eyes, lending him an appearance more mature than his years – an unsurprising consequence of the years spent on the battlefield.

Offering a goblet of wine to Arden, which he graciously accepted, they both retook their seats, with Mr. Burnett joining them once more. It was during this moment that Arden discerned Cole's pronounced limp – a telltale sign of an injury that had prompted his return. Cole couldn't help but notice Arden's gaze and responded with a touch of amusement:

"I observe that you can't resist admiring my comeliness. Rest assured, it wasn't this face that led me away from the battlefield. An injury befell me during an assault, but due to my unwavering service to the nation and valour in the war, I shall be fittingly rewarded – they intend to elevate me to the position of Baron Stanfield, succeeding the late Lord Kingsley. Fate weaves intricate patterns – one day you serve beneath a general, and the next, you inherit his title."

Arden gave a solemn nod.

"Nevertheless, I presume that, after more than seven years, you find contentment in such an outcome."

Cole reflected for a moment, then replied, "Indeed, and yet not quite. I've witnessed the passing of many honourable men, men who were sons, husbands, fathers... By the devil, I found myself in a dire state. I prayed fervently to all the saints until the affliction finally relented. But I hold no regrets for my decision, save for the fact that I could have been more farsighted. It may complicate matters with the ladies, though," he added with a wry smile.

His father gestured dismissively. "You're a true war hero, my son. Women will be vying for your attention."

"Indeed," Arden concurred, "once you're bestowed with a baron's title, it will send ripples through society. All shall be eager to know the tale of the gallant hero," he said, nodding.

The conversation among the three gentlemen continued in a convivial atmosphere. When Mr. Burnett had to excuse himself to procure groceries, it became clear that Cole had returned just that very morning. Left alone, Arden pondered whether it was the right time to divulge his troubles to Cole. Evidently, his inner turmoil manifested on his countenance, prompting Cole to inquire with a friendly smile, "You appear as though you need to unburden yourself."

Arden sighed but assented, "You're quite correct, my friend. I'm only unsure if the moment is opportune."

"For the sharing of burdens, my friend, there's always an appropriate hour," Cole replied as he refilled Arden's glass with wine. "Besides, I'm in need of a distraction myself. Battle-induced nightmares, you understand."

Arden took a sip before he began:

"I loved her, Cole. What am I saying? I still love her. But she decided to vanish from my life forever."

"Why?" Cole asked, bewildered.

Arden proceeded to recount the entire story of Lynette, with some minor omissions, particularly regarding the lost chest and all its consequences. Cole listened attentively, never interrupting, but his eyes expressed empathy for his friend's struggles.

"In the past month, she has regained some of her strength and has come closer to being the woman she was before the abduction. However, there is still an emotional distance, an icy aloofness, as if the deep bond and love we shared never existed. What torments me the most, Cole, is that I constantly question myself, wondering where I faltered. How could I have acted differently to make her want to stay with me? Perhaps I am a fool, utterly ignorant when it comes to understanding women. It's possible that I am missing a crucial piece of the puzzle, the moment when everything fell apart, even though she insisted it was her choice and that I hadn't made a single mistake."

Cole gazed into the distance behind Arden for a moment, contemplating his next words.

"Arden, given her steadfast refusal of your marriage proposal, even though she once longed for it, I suspect her love for you has waned. It's not your fault, nor is it hers. Such things simply happen, and the recent abduction may have accelerated what might have naturally unfolded later on, in my opinion. Can you envision marrying her, only to have her confess later that her love for you has faded?"

Arden's countenance grew sombre. "I fear I would never recover from such an ordeal. Thank you for your counsel, Cole. There must be some truth in it, as she herself professed at our parting – she loved me. She literally tore my heart asunder, devoured it, and eventually spat it away."

Cole placed a reassuring hand on Arden's shoulder. "My friend, you had the privilege of experiencing love, and that's a rare gift. Some souls now rest at the ocean's depths or feet deep in the ground, yearning for such an opportunity... And, who's to say you won't find love once more?"

Arden shook his head. "Honestly, I'm not inclined to that notion. Love is akin to a potent elixir, but its loss inflicts unbearable pain... I'm beginning to think that a union based on reason and mutual respect might be a more prudent choice than enduring all of this once more."

Cole gently shook his head after his friend. "You're speaking from the perspective of a wounded heart, Arden, but wounds heal over time. Keep your head high, for London is teeming with remarkable women."

Yet, Arden couldn't help but wonder how many of them could ever compare to Lynette. How many of them come near her qualities?, he pondered. I'd wager my chances are slim to none.

Indeed, before Arden, there stretched a lengthy and arduous path to contentment. Yet, as the years passed and he contemplated these memories, a subtle smile graced his countenance, accompanied by the sense that he wouldn't have desired an alternative outcome. 

If he harboured any regrets, it resided in his attitude towards a member of his family and his precipitous choices that had set in motion irrevocable consequences...