The woman’s hair shone brightly as she stepped onto the veranda.
Aurelian had seen more jewels and carefully arranged beauty that evening than he could remember, but she stood apart from the ballroom behind her.
She wore no gown.
Instead, a tailored suit of midnight blue fit neatly beneath a black velvet cape.
Silver details traced the fabric, and a sapphire circlet rested against the intricate braids pinned high around her head.
A sword hung at her right hip—an unusual sight in a ballroom, though the weapon looked so natural on her that Aurelian could not imagine her without it.
For a moment, he stared.
Then he remembered she had asked him a question.
“Sorry.
Yes.” He moved aside from the railing.
“There is plenty of room.”
She joined him, turning her gaze toward the gardens below.
Aurelian did the same.
He had not expected company, but the silence beside her felt different from the ballroom’s strained politeness.
She did not appear interested in filling it simply because two people happened to be standing together.
That made it easier to speak.
“Did the ballroom overwhelm you as well?”
“I would rather not be here,” she said.
“But it is required.”
The bluntness surprised him.
It also made him smile.
“Were you forced as well?” Aurelian rested his arms against the railing.
“In a way, I suppose I was tricked.”
Her eyes moved toward him.
“Most people know what they are agreeing to when they enter a social season.”
There was something faintly amused in her voice.
Aurelian sighed.
“My parents called it an opportunity to make connections.”
“Is that not what you have been doing?”
“I had hoped for less terrifying connections.”
The corner of her mouth shifted.
“I am aware this is your first season,” she said.
“You made quite an impression at Marquise Beaumont’s welcome tea.”
Aurelian turned fully toward her.
“You were there?”
He tried to remember seeing silver hair anywhere in the garden and failed completely.
Then again, he had spent most of the afternoon trying not to insult anyone or fall into a pond.
“How embarrassing.”
“On the contrary.
I found it entertaining.”
Aurelian’s face warmed.
“You watched me make a fool of myself.”
“I watched you try very hard not to.”
“That is not better.”
“It was refreshing.”
He stared at her.
A small smirk appeared.
“You are making fun of me.”
“I am.”
The answer was so immediate that Aurelian laughed before he could help it.
She continued as though nothing unusual had happened.
“You still left the garden with the favor of Marquise Beaumont, Lady Lockwood, and House Primrose.
You appear to have luck on your side, Lord Bellafonte.”
“Barely.”
“Barely is enough.”
Her left hand tapped lightly against the stone railing.
“I believe luck is a useful skill in high society.
It may fail eventually, but until then, you would be wise to use it.”
Aurelian considered that.
“Do you think I can use it to avoid meeting the princess?”
Her fingers stopped.
Then she looked at him.
“I believe you already have.”
Aurelian frowned, uncertain what she meant.
Only then did another problem occur to him.
“I apologize.
You know my name, and I never asked yours.”
He stepped back from the railing and bowed.
“Aurelian Bellafonte.
And you are?”
Amusement returned to her eyes.
“Seraphina—”
The veranda door opened with a loud clack.
A couple stumbled outside, laughing between themselves.
The flush on their faces and the way they clung to one another suggested they had enjoyed far too much of the palace wine.
“I told you we would be alone,” the man murmured.
The woman laughed, then looked up.
Her expression changed instantly.
“O-oh.”
The man followed her gaze.
He went pale.
“We apologize,” the woman said quickly.
“We did not realize anyone was here.”
They disappeared back inside almost as quickly as they had arrived.
Aurelian watched the doors close.
Then he looked at Seraphina.
“Do you know them?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Friends?”
“No.
We exchange greetings.”
Aurelian smiled faintly.
“Do you wish to become friends with them?”
“Not at all.”
She looked at him then, direct and unreadable.
“I am far more interested in getting to know you.”
Aurelian blinked.
The warmth that rose in his chest had nothing to do with the ballroom.
He had come to Evelina hoping, above all else, to make genuine friends.
That someone so composed and intimidating might actually want his company felt like an unexpected victory.
“I would be honored,” he said, unable to keep the smile from his face.
“Ask me anything.”
Seraphina regarded him for a moment.
“What is Bellafonte like?”
Aurelian almost overthought the question.
Then he remembered who he was speaking to and decided against it.
“Warm.”
Her brows lifted slightly.
“That is probably not a very poetic answer,” he admitted, “but it is the truest one.
Bellafonte is warm nearly all year.
The sun is always there, even in winter.”
Once he started, the words came easily.
He told her about tea fields silver-green in the morning, coffee groves where workers sang through harvest, sunflower fields that followed the southern roads for miles, and markets that smelled of roasted beans, fresh bread, spices, and horse leather.
He spoke of work as naturally as beauty—of harvest days when injuries or illness left a family short-handed and everyone nearby stepped in, including him when he could.
Of dinners shared after long afternoons and music that sometimes carried across the villages well after sunset.
Seraphina listened without interrupting.
“It sounds peaceful,” she said when he finally stopped.
Something in her voice had softened.
Aurelian smiled.
“It is.
You should visit one day.”
Seraphina’s eyes widened by a fraction.
Aurelian did not notice the significance of the silence that followed.
Then amusement touched her face.
“I will accept the invitation.”
“Good.”
“You are a humble man.”
Aurelian hesitated.
“Is that a compliment?”
“Yes.”
Relief crossed his face.
“Thank goodness.
I still cannot tell half the time.”
“Truly?”
“I am beginning to suspect everyone in Evelina enjoys saying one thing and meaning another.”
“That suspicion will serve you well.”