I followed them into the vast hall, where an appetizer and refreshments were already being served.

“Lady Ashlyn,” His Grace Andrew stopped me. “I believe I’ve promised you an introduction to Lord Stanley, haven’t I?”

“Yes, that would be lovely, thank you,” I smiled at his kindness.

“Follow me, I might have an idea,” his eyes sparkled mischievously. He grasped Edith’s elbow and stirred us in the direction of the large L-shaped table. He intended to place me between Edith and Lord Bradford Stanley. Sadly, there, on the left side of Lord Stanley was situated no one but Baxter Read himself, who seemed to notice my presence the instant I’ve entered the room.

He awkwardly raised from his chair, almost knocking it over in the ill-fated attempt of a greeting.

“L-lady Ashlyn,” he lowered his head.

“Your Grace,” I smiled stiffly, my mind screaming with pure dread.

“Please, My Lady t-take a s-seat,” he grabbed the chair next to Lord Stanley and pulled it out for me.

I realized I just stood there like a fool, watching him in awe. He was a horrible conversationalist, but I had to admit, the man had astonishing manners.

“Thank you Your Grace, you are too kind.”

Out of my peripheral vision I noticed Bonnie and Alison staring at me with utter disbelief. What are you doing? Alison mouthed.

Digging my own grave apparently, what else.

Baxter Read stepped back to his chair, but he was still sneaking glances at me, his face red with embarrassment.

I felt Edith nudging me under the table before she indicated at Lord Stanley.

I gently cleared my throat to gain his attention. “I believe we haven’t been introduced yet. Lord Stanley, I presume?” I gave him my best radiant smile, filled with false innocence.

“Yes Bradford Stanley at your service, Lady Caldwell,” he grinned back. The gentleman wasn’t hard on the eye, with his reddish hair and bright green eyes that sparkled with passion every time he spoke up.

“You know who I am?” I asked with surprise.

“I heard quite a lot about you, My Lady,” he admitted, his eyes darting to his friend. Baxter Read suddenly erupted into a loud coughing fit, his eyes wide with sheer terror.

“I a-apologize for m-my poor m-manners,” he stammered when he finally calmed down. His face however remained beet red and his eyes fixated on his plate.

Lord Stanley smirked at his embarrassed colleague. “Anyhow,” he stated loudly. “I think every man with a sharp set of eyes has noticed you.”

Now it was my turn to blush. “Oh, you flatter me, My Lord.”

“Quite the opposite, I am only stating the obvious,” he shook his head with earnesty.

“I haven’t seen you dance; may I ask why?” I blurted out.

“I see; you’ve noticed me too,” the corners of his mouth quirked up. “To answer your question, I am not popular with the ladies. I’m afraid they find me uninteresting,” he said with amused expression.

“I apologize, My Lord, but that is quite unreasonable,” I answered. My intention wasn't to court him per se, but rather to show kindness.

“Why thank you, My Lady, now you’re flattering me,” his green eyes sparkled with interest. “I apologize for my frankness, but have you already chosen the most fitting suitor?”

“No, My Lord. I am not inclined toward anyone as of yet,” I admitted to him. It was only then when I noticed Baxter Read’s slouched figure. With a loud rattling sound, he slowly set down the cutlery. His fingers trembled so badly he had to hide them under the table. His expression was a mixture of dejection and defeat. I didn’t understand why, but I felt like a fool. No matter how dreary the gentleman was, he was nothing but nice to me. I wanted to fix the mistake I’ve made, but what could I’ve said? That he was one of the suitors I favored the most? That would be a lie, wouldn’t it?

I eyed Jared who was suddenly aware of my presence, carefully listening in to our conversation. He was shooting daggers at Lord Stanley’s head.

On the second thought becoming an old maiden would’ve been much less complicated. The concept of love was an incomprehensible riddle which left me utterly lost and confused. Nothing made sense and nothing felt quite right.

“Your Grace?” An older man demanded Read’s attention. “Has your mare already gone into labor?”

Baxter Read raised his head and smiled fondly. “Why y-yes the f-foal is three m-months old now.”

“What breed is it?” The man asked.

“F-friesian, I only b-breed those. My s-stallion was t-transported directly f-from Netherlands.”

“Your stallion is quite mesmerizing,” the gentleman said and I quietly agreed.

“The h-horse is of a highest p-pedigree. It has 68 i-inches in h-height, a muscled t-torso and a beautifully t-thick mane. You c-can’t get better that t-that.”

“I agree. Let me know when you’ll be selling, I would like to make a deal.”

“O-of course, My L-Lord, it will b-be my p-pleasure.”

“Do you train them as well, Your Grace?” I asked, wishing I knew how to bite my tongue.

His face reddened at my sudden attention. “Y-yes I-I, t-train them m-myself,” his stutter notably worsened when he turned toward me.

“That is very admirable, Your Grace. I used to ride back at home on our country estate, but sadly those times are gone. However, I do miss horses,” I admitted.

“A-ah, what a s-shame, My Lady,” he looked back down at his plate. For a moment he appeared deep in thought, then his head snapped back up. “The w-weather is q-quite d-dreadful these d-days, won’t y-you agree lady A-A-Ashyln?” He stammered over my name, struggling to pronounce it.

The nobles tried to stifle the mocking snickers directed toward his stutter and the obvious choice of topic. My eyes darted around the table and I felt deeply saddened by how badly ridiculed the poor gentleman was.

“Yes, quite,” I answered hurriedly, feeling sorry for him. He was painfully aware of their derisive glances, yet he pretended not to notice. His eyes were once again glued to the white tablecloth, his otherwise hypervigilance dampened with a sudden detachment.