𝘈 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘉𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦.

Five.

Zaria realized, with a slight start, that she had failed to ask his name before he departed. Yet his face lingered in her mind—handsome, almost impossibly so, and surely far beyond her station. Was she reaching for something unattainable? Could he have truly meant what he said—a stroll on Mayfair Street, the two of them alone? It seemed almost too wonderful to believe.

"I see you may already have captured the interest of a suitor," Lady Evangeline remarked as she approached Zaria with a knowing smile.

"I am not certain," Zaria replied, her tone laced with uncertainty. "I did not even think to ask his name. He was exceedingly handsome and polite, though it is clear he is quite popular among the ladies. It is no wonder, truly. I cannot imagine I would stand a chance."

"And yet, what did he say to you?" Lady Evangeline pressed gently.

"He... he asked if I might join him for a stroll tomorrow on Mayfair Street," Zaria said hesitantly. "He thought the fresh air would do us good."

"Then there you have it—a promising beginning," Lady Evangeline said encouragingly. "Do not discount yourself so soon, my dear."

Lady Evangeline possessed a wisdom that belied her youthful appearance, though she was assuredly a few years senior to Zaria. Likely in her late twenties, much like Zaria's sister Gloria, she carried herself with the grace and experience of one well-versed in such matters. Having attended every courting season without fail, her fondness for the lively gatherings was evident. Yet, despite her love for society's grand occasions, a suitable match had always eluded her—an oversight she hoped to rectify in this year's season.

"What of you, Lady Evangeline? Do you seek a match this season, or is it merely the merriment that draws you?" Zaria inquired, her gaze fixed upon her companion.

Evangeline smiled knowingly. "I dare say, I hold hope that a suitable match may present itself this year. Yet, I confess, the promise of a delightful time remains an undeniable allure."

"I see! Well, I do hope you find someone to form a match with this year," Zaria replied earnestly.

"And I, my dear, wish the same for you," Lady Evangeline responded warmly.

Just then, Zaria caught sight of him again amidst the crowd. He stood tall, commanding attention effortlessly. Whispers of his status preceded him—he was none other than a Duke. As the realization dawned, Zaria watched as countless ladies flocked toward him, each vying for his favor.

The Duke, Alexander Beltran, belonged to one of the most esteemed and noble families. His mother, ever anxious about his future, had urged him to marry swiftly. Yet, Alexander, the eldest son at two-and-twenty, had resisted such pressures, waiting for a match that truly stirred his heart. His younger brothers, mere lads of fifteen and sixteen, were still far from their own seasons.

"There he is again!" Zaria exclaimed, pointing him out to Lady Evangeline.

Lady Evangeline turned her gaze toward the Duke and let out a soft laugh. "Ah, you have set your sights upon him! His name is Alexander Beltran, now you know it. But I must warn you, securing a match with the Duke is no easy feat. His reputation precedes him, you see. Many have tried to win his favor, but he has yet to find a bride that suits him. They say he has entertained many admirers but found none to his liking. Still, I wish you all the luck in the world for tomorrow, my dear."

The world she now inhabited felt strange and unsettling, and Zaria struggled to reconcile herself with the notion of marrying at such a tender age. To add to her unease, she had been told that winning the favor of the one suitor who had captured her interest would be no small feat.

Inwardly, she wished fervently, "Let this not mirror the life I once knew. I found no fortune there... Perhaps here, my fate shall be kinder."

Her half-sisters had become rather inebriated, stumbling about in their revelry, save for Milenna, who approached Zaria with a light step and a curious expression. "Have you had any fortune yet?" she inquired softly.

"In a manner of speaking," Zaria replied, a faint smile gracing her lips. "I have arranged to take a morning stroll tomorrow with one of the suitors."

Milenna's eyes widened with delight. "A morning stroll? How splendid! Tell me, what manner of gentleman is he? A duke, perhaps? Or a prince? Do share every detail!"

Zaria sighed, her voice laced with reluctant amusement. "Very well. He is a duke—one of great renown. His name is Alexander Beltran."

Milenna gasped, her hands clasping together in astonishment. "The Duke Alexander Beltran? You are to take a stroll with him? How extraordinary! Do you realize how fortunate you are? Why, every young lady here is vying for his attention!"

"Yeah that's what I'm afraid of.."

"Well don't be! I'm sure it'll all go well."

There was no denying her apprehension, for if every young woman sought his favor, what set her apart from the rest? Surely, a man such as he would tire of being pursued so relentlessly. How could she possibly distinguish herself? She longed to be seen as different, unique even. Yet a familiar fear crept into her heart—that he might regard her as she had so often been viewed before: unworthy, overlooked, and judged for her figure rather than her spirit.

"We must take our leave now—come along, all of you!" Gloria called to her sisters with a spirited tone. The group departed the manor in high spirits, laughter spilling over as though they had spent the most delightful evening. Gloria and Mary, having indulged in both wine and lively company, were still brimming with mirth, while Milenna had remained more composed, content to observe the season's proceedings or converse quietly with Zaria.

Once they were seated in the carriage, the journey began. First, they stopped to escort Milenna to her residence, and then Mary to hers. Finally, Gloria and Zaria continued on their way. As the carriage wheels clattered along the cobbled streets, Zaria gazed out of the window, her thoughts consumed by what awaited her on the morrow—a stroll with Alexander. Her heart fluttered with a mixture of nervous anticipation and quiet hope.