The news of Ian Dalton of Whitefield coming to London spread instantly throughout the city.

Heir to vast lands passed down for hundreds of years, owner of immense forests and mines. A young landlord with all these titles at the age of thirty. And yet, the ‘unmarried’ Ian Dalton.

Parents with daughters could not help but be on high alert for his appearance in London. Moreover, thanks to Miss Janet Fairfax, the social butterfly, rumors spread among London ladies that Ian Dalton’s appearance was extraordinary, causing his value to skyrocket without his knowledge.

However, he did not show his face at all in the social gatherings that most of London’s upper class attended. He only returned polite rejection letters, clearly written by someone else, to dinner invitations, and did not even show his face at small events like balls or concerts.

If a young man from an ordinary family behaved this way, he would be branded as rude and forgotten in social circles, but he was never forgotten. London society never forgot a wealthy young man from a prestigious family.

His indifference rather created an air of mystery, further fueling the curiosity of many.

There were people whose value rose along with Ian Dalton’s seclusion-like behavior, namely the Fairfax siblings. Especially Miss Janet Fairfax, who received an unprecedented rush of tea party invitations and attended numerous gatherings, simply because she lived in the same house as Ian Dalton.

She was surrounded by ladies’ curious interest, wondering what Ian Dalton was doing and when he might show his face in society, and she let out happy screams. At seventeen, it was an age to be thrilled by ladies’ attention as much as men’s.

However, Miss Fairfax could not provide them with the answers they wanted. She too did not know what plans Ian Dalton had for socializing.

Ian Dalton was living a life of merely flipping through books, shrugging his shoulders when his in-law’s daughter, who blushed and stuttered whenever she saw him, asked what he was going to do next.

Meanwhile, the Morton couple returned from their honeymoon. They first visited the home of Mrs. Morton’s godmother, Countess Abigail Pendleton, and then gradually visited their neighbors. The topic of tea parties briefly shifted to the Morton couple, with their happy appearance as a handsome couple and the gifts in their hands.

But soon after, Miss Janet Fairfax, who had been biting her nails while counting the dwindling invitations out of anxiety from being pushed out of the center of attention, got a chance for a comeback.

She learned that Ian Dalton would be attending the first ball hosted by the Morton couple next week.

After that, houses with unmarried ladies were in utter chaos. Unmarried sisters fought over the best dresses in the house, plump ladies began fasting, and ladies of marriageable age used all sorts of aegyo and tantrums in front of their parents to call dressmakers for new clothes.

Parents could not be free from this turmoil either. Fathers downed whiskey to lower their blood pressure after seeing the clothing bills, and mothers endured the humiliation of writing letters to better-off friends asking to borrow jewelry for their daughters to wear.

Amidst all this chaos, only Miss Pendleton remained calm like the eye of a storm. Fortunately, she was already past the age to join such competition.

As rumors had not yet spread that Dalton could be introduced through Miss Pendleton, she did not experience any particular annoyances.

The day before the ball, Miss Pendleton quietly sent letters to a few ladies of marriageable age she knew, asking them to please attend the Morton couple’s ball. With subtle hints in the manner of communication that London ladies were accustomed to, using roundabout expressions.

And so, the evening of the ball arrived.

Around seven o’clock, Miss Pendleton was sitting at her dressing table, having her hair done by her maid. Her reflection in the mirror, wearing a ball gown that exposed her shoulders, looked quite unfamiliar.

It had been a long time since she had attended a ball. Especially one of this scale.

She fiddled with her gloved hands, the gloves long enough to cover her elbows.

While styling Miss Pendleton’s hair, the maid Anne asked,

“There will be many people tonight, won’t there, Miss?”

“Of course. It’s the Morton couple’s first ball.”

“That Ian Dalton is coming too, right?”

“Yes. Mr. Fairfax promised he would definitely bring him along.”

Anne looked down at Miss Pendleton’s long, auburn hair that she had braided and let fall.

The long strands of hair glistening under the lamplight. Having grown up among seven sisters, Anne had seen enough women’s hair to be sick of it, but she had never seen hair as luscious as that of Miss Pendleton whom she served. It was so beautiful that it seemed a shame to keep it to oneself, so frustrating to confine it in a hairnet.

Anne wrapped her hands around Miss Pendleton’s shoulders.

“Then, how about we try a different hairstyle today?”

“Why?”

“I heard from the maids next door that this gentleman is really handsome. And extremely rich.”

“That’s right. He’s a man of good conditions. It would be perfect if his character matched. But why do you want to change my hairstyle, Anne?”

“It would be nice if you looked prettier than usual. Who knows? He might fall for you among all the ladies.”

Miss Pendleton burst into laughter.

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s a man who could marry any young lady he wants. Come on, put on the hairnet quickly, Anne. The carriage will be waiting outside.”

Anne pouted, then rolled up Miss Pendleton’s hair, twisted it into a bun, and secured it with a lavender hairnet matching the color of her dress. As always, Miss Pendleton’s head tilted slightly backward, unable to bear the weight of her abundant hair.

Miss Pendleton straightened her neck properly, and soon Anne put a pearl pendant around her neck.

The two looked in the mirror. Miss Pendleton’s face, exposed without a single strand of hair under the lamplight. Anne gazed at her mistress’s elegant and beautiful face, then muttered, “Hmm.”

“Miss, it’s been almost ten years since I started serving you, right?”

“That’s right.”

“You look exactly the same now as you did then.”

Miss Pendleton smiled gently.

“That’s nice to hear.”

“I mean it. There’s no trace of time on your face. Even when you dress simply, you look like a queen, Miss.”

“I’m afraid someone might hear. How can you say such things when Her Majesty the Queen is still alive and well?”

This was how Miss Pendleton always deflected with a light joke whenever someone praised her beauty.

“Miss, my older sister says that when meeting a man, a woman should forget her conditions and believe only in her charm. She says that way, you can marry any man.”

“Is that how you met your fiancé too?”

“Of course. How else could a mere maid get engaged to a lawyer?”

“Hmm, if I had been one of your seven sisters, I would have changed my surname already, wouldn’t I?”

Anne grunted and brought a lace shawl, a recent gift from the Morton couple, to wrap around Miss Pendleton’s shoulders.

Miss Pendleton stood up and checked her appearance one last time in the full-length mirror, nodding in satisfaction.

“Thank you, Anne. Perfect as always. If I happen to receive a proposal from a neighboring country’s prince tonight, it will all be thanks to you.”

Anne replied sulkily to Miss Pendleton’s frivolous words.

“It’s nothing. I just polished the diamond diligently.”

Miss Pendleton chuckled and left the room.

* * *

Upon arriving at the ballroom, Miss Pendleton greeted the Morton couple standing at the entrance to welcome guests, then entered the hall. The stage was already in full swing with a lively quadrille tune. Miss Pendleton stood at one side of the hall, watching the dancers.

Ladies in beautiful dresses with their hair adorned with lovely May flowers and their waists tightly cinched by corsets, and gentlemen in black tuxedos were stepping in time on the smooth marble floor.

Miss Pendleton looked around. Men and women dancing, and others waiting for the next dance. There must have been at least 200 people. It was quite crowded for the beginning of the social season. Miss Pendleton moved to stand near the terrace, already feeling the warm indoor air, and watched the dance stage.

Just then, as the music ended and people began to leave the stage, Mr. Fairfax, one of the dancers, spotted Miss Pendleton. After safely escorting the lady he had danced with back to her companions, he approached her.

“Hello, Miss Pendleton!”

Miss Pendleton smiled and extended her hand to him. He kissed the back of her hand.

“The social season seems bustling from the start this year.”

“Indeed. Didn’t Miss Janet Fairfax come with you?”

“She’s with her friends. Over there, oh no, she’s accepting a dance invitation from that good-for-nothing George Orson.”

“Is Mr. Orson’s character that bad?”

“Didn’t you know, Miss Pendleton?”

“He doesn’t have a bad reputation among the ladies. He’s polite and dances well.”

“That’s the mask he wears in front of ladies. If you only knew how terribly he behaves at the gentlemen’s club. He’s the only one who cheats even in card games with no stakes.”

“Still, nothing serious will happen from just one dance.”

“Hmm, that’s true. Janet is a girl who can use her judgment.”

Even as he said this, Mr. Fairfax couldn’t take his worried gaze off his sister. Miss Pendleton smiled slightly at his concern.

It was the first time she had seen him since he was rejected by Miss Hyde. Fortunately, Mr. Fairfax seemed his usual self. He had lost some weight, but his complexion wasn’t bad, suggesting he had simply been hunting more enthusiastically. It seemed he had recovered quite well from the blow.

Mr. Fairfax clicked his tongue as he watched his sister go to the dance stage with Mr. Orson, then turned to Miss Pendleton.

“Well, I’ll let her dance one song. So, Miss Pendleton. Do you have a partner for this next dance?”

“No, I just arrived.”

Mr. Fairfax extended his hand to her.

“Then, may I have this dance?”

Miss Pendleton smiled and took his hand without hesitation.

As they went to the stage, an elegant melody began, and the cotillion dance started. The men and women standing widely apart began to step in time with the music, holding hands and spinning around.

Mr. Fairfax, who usually had a good sense of rhythm, and Miss Pendleton, who was well-versed in social dances, glided across the stage as naturally as flowing water.

Mr. Fairfax, holding Miss Pendleton’s waist and leading her, asked,

“Miss Hyde didn’t come today.”

Miss Pendleton averted her gaze.

“She’s… unwell, I hear.”

“Miss Hyde?”

“Yes. A cold.”

Mr. Fairfax looked at Miss Pendleton with disbelief. Well, considering Miss Hyde’s usual health like that of a pony, it was a poor excuse.