Bella had been discreetly surveying the assembly, hoping to chance upon a familiar countenance adorned with a small, distinctive scar — as her confidante, Lady Lorraine Rosewell, kept making jests on her account. While Lorraine was of age with her sister Eliza, their personalities resonated more closely with Isabella's, fostering a deep bond between them.

"It seems rather apparent, my dear Bella, that you're smitten to the core," remarked Lorraine.

Bella let out a wistful sigh and turned to her friend.

"You're the second person to impart such wisdom upon me. Yet, it's been well over a year, and still, he remains oblivious to my true identity, offering no response to the numerous letters I've dispatched."

"So, what course of action shall you pursue?" inquired Lorraine, her curiosity piqued.

Bella, her shoulders gently rising and falling, responded, "There remains but one recourse - a direct inquiry of his sentiments."

"But what if he were to spurn your advances?" Lorraine pressed.

As Bella contemplated this inquiry, Lorraine's gaze shifted beyond her, her countenance darkening.

"It seems you may not like this, Bella," Lorraine began, but her words were cut short as Bella turned her gaze in the same direction. 

There, she too had the opportunity to observe Travis, engaged in conversation with Eliza. His countenance seemed to radiate, his eyes dancing with a lively spirit, and his undivided attention was unmistakably directed at her older sister. Bella was overcome with a feeling that he had never regarded her in such a way before, and a pang of envy and jealousy seeped into her soul. They had encountered each other randomly outside the grand balls in the city and at other social gatherings, and he had been most amiable every time. His smile had the power to melt her heart, filling her with the hope that, just maybe, one day...

She quickly turned back to Lorraine, endeavouring to steady herself amidst the tumultuous emotions that raged within her.

"Are you quite well, my dear?" Lorraine inquired, her concern etched on her face.

Isabella nodded but continued to watch the two of them. After a while, Travis excused himself as Eliza's friends joined their company, and he departed to greet others, including the venerable matron Lady Kendall.

"May I humbly request this dance, Lady Price?" a robust, masculine voice inquired next to her.

As Bella didn't respond, her friend gently nudged her.

"May I have the honour of this dance, Lady Price?" the voice repeated, this time with a touch of impatience. Bella finally tore her gaze away from Travis.

Before she stood Lord Davenport, a man of her father's generation. He had recently lost his wife and seemed to be in search of a new companion and his slick demeanour disgusted Bella, causing her skin to crawl.

"Apologies, Lord Davenport, but I await your son - he pledged me a dance and then vanished. Is this the manner in which gentlemen in your esteemed family are brought up?"

Lord Davenport's countenance stiffened. He offered a curt nod and departed without uttering a word.

"That was rather harsh, Bella," Lorraine commented, her expression one of surprise.

Before Bella could respond, Lord Roché approached them and requested Lorraine's company for a dance.

"Um... yes, of course," Lorraine replied, taken aback, as she allowed him to escort her onto the dance floor.

Men were not inclined to request Lorraine's company for a dance, and on those rare occasions they did, they were often older, more seasoned gentlemen in the mould of Lord Davenport. The probable cause lay in the fact that she did not conform to the prevailing fashion. Her countenance, with its plump cheeks, and her figure, graced with a full bosom, rounded hips, and shapely thighs, stood in stark contrast to the prevailing trends of sylphlike grace. Her own sisters found amusement in jesting about her robust form, and her parents, despite her youthful years, had ceased to conceal their concerns, lamenting her unmarried state as if she were an ageing spinster. 

Bella harboured a deep sympathy for her dear friend in this regard; after all, she was in her own unique manner quite comely and possessed a heart that was not only virtuous but untainted. Therefore, her heart stirred with an unspoken sense of satisfaction when she observed that the attentions of a particular gentleman had been directed towards Lorraine Rosewell instead of herself. However, it also propelled Bella to halt observing and pondering about the two, allowing her friend to relish the companionship in peace.

Hence she withdrew her focus from her friend, casting a curious gaze across the ballroom. Her quest was to locate Travis, a gentleman who had occupied her thoughts and dreams for longer than she dared to admit. He was not among her immediate line of sight, but the presence of her sister, Eliza, did not elude her, as she had embarked on a path that led toward the recesses of the house, and Bella made her resolve, choosing to pursue her sister's path. 

In her haste, Bella took swifter steps, avoiding a fateful collision with Lady Kendall, who issued a reproachful glance as she traversed their shared trajectory, evidently displeased that she wouldn't be able to intercept her path in time. Bella maintained her pursuit, catching sight of the door through which Eliza had disappeared. With little contemplation, she followed her sister's course and entered the adjoining room. 

Moving quietly, she ensured the doors behind her were closed with the same hushed demeanour. Her eyes swept the room, and the sight of a second set of doors connecting this chamber to the next filled her with assurance. Through them, Bella was confident of an improved vantage, for the sizeable keyhole between the doors offered the prospect of both auditory and visual insight. Nevertheless, the obscurity of night required Bella to rely solely upon the intermittent radiance of the moon, whose gentle luminescence filtered through the windows, adorning the room in a subtle, silvery glow.

"Are you savouring the stars, Lady Price?" Bella glimpsed Travis, who was leaning elegantly against the windowsill. Eliza gracefully joined him, settling into the nearest chair.

"When I'm seized by the notion that I'm utterly alone in this world," he continued, "I turn my gaze to the heavens and contemplate the countless stars. It's then that I feel as if it's just me and them, crafting constellations of heroes from Greek myths, who kept me company throughout my childhood."

"You certainly aren't alone in this world; I cannot fathom that," her sister remarked.

"I've already conveyed to you the essence of this matter," he replied, taking a seat opposite her, "pertaining to deception and artifice."

"You must elucidate further, Marquess, for your enigmatic discourse leaves me perplexed. Are you being untruthful, or are others deceiving you?"

His soul is disquieted, you astute ninny, Bella thought quickly, why immerse yourself in novels when the meaning of words eludes you in everyday conversation?

"They deceive me, I am aware of it, and regrettably, I dissemble to you as well," Travis sighed, and he continued, "I deem myself a sinful man, Lady Price, for I comprehend how a mere few words can easily disappoint or wound another. This accounts for my hesitance. I've never regarded myself as anything beyond ordinary, and," his voice quivered, "as you can see, I'm but a gentleman marred by a facial scar."

Speak not of yourself in such a manner, my dearest, Bella quivered. In my eyes, you are the most comely of men in all the world.

"Have you ever beheld your reflection, sir? It may be that your vision is somewhat impaired, but permit me to articulate my observations. I discern, primarily, a gentleman of striking countenance, assuredly destined for eminence within our society. Yet, it would behove you to indulge less in philosophizing about your destiny, the celestial bodies, and kindred subjects, for in such ruminations, you may inadvertently forgo the myriad of splendours that have the potential to grace your existence, or perchance, have already done so. Rest assured, there exists not a lady who has not, if only fleetingly, envisioned a life intertwined with yours."

Not only have I envisioned it, but I ardently desire a life at his side, and I find no fault in his propensity for philosophical contemplation.

"And as for you, Eliza? Have you ever harboured the notion of my presence in your life?" Travis inquired in hushed tones.

Upon this inquiry, Isabella stood still, her gaze fixed upon her sister, awaiting her reply with bated breath.

"I have every confidence in your ability to be a splendid husband and father, but in all honesty, I must admit that I've never considered you in that light," Eliza declared, her words weighted with candour.

You dwell incessantly on Leighton, whom you do not hold affection for, you foolish goose.

"You see," he began with sincerity, "on those countless evenings, I attended for your sake alone. It was your voice I longed to hear and those magnificent eyes, akin to glistening amber in the lamplight, that I yearned to behold. When you declined the advances of so many suitors, I, quite naively, thought you might be awaiting a more earnest overture. Alas, I had merely driven you further away with my melancholic conversations."

Bella observed as Travis moved dangerously close to Eliza from the window seat, a proximity that could have scandalized onlookers had anyone entered the drawing room. While Eliza maintained her poise, Bella couldn't help but quiver with nervousness. Travis's confession stirred tears in her eyes, which she quickly blinked away, determined not to let them cascade down her cheeks. It was as though she anticipated his avowal to extend further.

"In each of my thoughts, Eliza, you reside. I rise with you, I retire to slumber with you, and I contemplate your presence when joyous or when plunged into the depths of despair, when it seems that all purpose has deserted this world. I yearn to proclaim it to the universe, and above all else... I aspire for you to grace my life as my wife, the future Marchioness of St. Arcey."

Bella found herself unable to prevent the tears, which cascaded like twin waterfalls down her cheeks. She hastily dabbed her eyes as she observed his countenance drawing nearer to Eliza's. She held her breath, waiting for...

"Cease, Marquess."

Those words struck Bella's ears like a whip.

"I cannot be your wife," Eliza nervously declared.

With a hurried pace, she made her way towards the door, disregarding Travis's attempt to halt her.

"Eliza!" he called out, but her sister had already departed from the drawing room.

Bella straightened herself and leaned against the door. She longed to weep and to cry out that none of those words were meant for her but for her sister, who scarcely deserved this man. She knew she must act, must attempt something before it was too late for Travis. Thus, she turned around and gently pushed open the slightly ajar door. Travis remained seated, his face cradled in his hands. He looked up in astonishment as the door creaked open.

"Lady Isabella, I... I wasn't aware," he stammered, rising from his chair as his eyes discerned Bella's countenance in the shadows.

"You couldn't have known I was eavesdropping," she confessed without hesitation, walking closer to him.

"How much of my conversation with your sister did you hear?" he asked in a hushed tone.

She took a deep breath before answering, "Everything."

He sighed, closed his eyes, and nervously ran a hand through his hair.

"I swear to you - you mustn't tell anyone about this," he implored.

"I won't tell anyone, but I must confess something to you, Lord St. Arcey."

She approached him as closely as he had approached Eliza moments before, gazing into his large eyes, and said, "It's me who writes those love letters you receive, Lord Travis."

She placed her hand on his chest, right where his heart resided.

"I've loved you since you danced the first dance with me at the debutante ball. But you chose the wrong Lady Price."

She felt his heart's pulsation beneath her palm for a moment when he laid his hand atop hers, only to gently remove it. Undeterred, she captured his hand in her own, her resolve shining in her eyes as she spoke with determination.

"I would do whatever it takes to ensure your happiness, Travis, even if it were this very instant."

Releasing his hand, she embraced him around the neck. Travis, being a tall man, compelled her to stand on her tiptoes to reach his lips. Yet, before their mouths could meet, Travis skillfully extracted himself from her embrace, stepping back several paces. He extended his hands before him, a gesture meant to dissuade her from further endeavours. A profound embarrassment marked his countenance, and he appeared to struggle for the right words — words that would spare the young lady's feelings while making his own emotions clear.

"Lady Isabella, I hold your courage in high regard, but you are yet very young. Your time shall come, but my heart belongs solely to your sister, Eliza. Now, if you'd kindly pardon me," he said firmly, executing a formal about-face to depart.

"But she shall never return your love," she implored, her voice trailing after him.

He hesitated, desiring to say something back, yet ultimately, he only shook his head and departed from the chamber. The chamber seemed to close in on Bella as her heart ached with sorrow. With great effort, she restrained the tears threatening to overflow.

Compose yourself, she whispered inwardly, for she was now certain that her sister, Eliza, would have to break Travis' heart to make him cease loving her so fervently and come to his senses. At that very moment, she felt a deep sympathy for him. Perhaps she should attempt to correspond with him once more, penning another letter now that he learned who was the author; he even might be more inclined to reply.

Unexpectedly, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed in the corridor, causing her to start. Bella knew in an instant that she needed to evade this individual without revealing herself in the passageway. Her sole recourse was to create a disturbance by forcefully closing the connecting doors. She dashed toward them and slammed them shut with a resounding thud. As the footsteps entered the adjacent chamber, she hurried toward the corridor doors, progressing hastily along the hallway. Fortunately, there were no further audible steps; it appeared the individual had chosen not to pursue her further.

When she found herself in the grand hall, she quickly surveyed the place. Upon spotting Aileen amidst a cluster of ladies, she didn't hesitate to join them, taking a glass of champagne from the tray with the utmost grace she could convey.

"Pray, what was the meaning of that?" Eliza inquired once she reached her sisters, startling Bella who then gently stepped aside being followed by Eliza's glare.

"What on earth are you speaking of?" Bella asked, feigning innocence as skillfully as possible.

"You seem to vanish at your whim, only to reappear... If there's a secret admirer, my dear, pray that he conducts himself honourably and converses with you openly."

Bella had to suppress a passionate outburst, keeping her composure regarding the conversation she'd just overheard between Eliza and Travis.

"I have no such admirer, Eliza. Those who seek my favour are not of the ilk I would even deign to acknowledge, nor touch them with my gloved hand, let alone consider as suitors."

"But father certainly is."

"Well, mayhaps both father and the Almighty will show me some mercy," Isabella replied, affecting a tragic countenance to both amuse and distract her sister, in which she indeed succeeded. 

In due course, a young lord approached, requesting the pleasure of a dance with Bella. She deliberately accepted with a leisurely grace, so as not to raise suspicions in Eliza. Nevertheless, beneath her composed exterior, her brow glistened with perspiration, and her heart raced like a thoroughbred. She marvelled at her ability to conceal her emotions for the remainder of the evening, but as soon as she retired to her bed, tears, as substantial as peas, drenched her pillow.

Once more, the skies above Hertford lit up with lightning, and in that very moment, Isabella would have solemnly sworn she beheld the figure of a man in the garden. Yet, who would dare haunt the grounds in such inclement weather and during the wee hours of the night? At first, she dismissed it as mere fleeting phantasms conjured by the storm's tempestuous display. However, with the subsequent lightning bolt, her conviction was irrevocable – no gentleman, phantom, or otherwise, wandered the garden's precincts. Suppressing a yawn, she resolved to retire, for sleep would inevitably claim her...