---------- Chapter 1 ---------------

The foyer was abuzz with life, filled with elegantly dressed guests, each donned in their finest evening attire. The soft rustle of silk and satin gowns blended with the low hum of voices, punctuated by the occasional peal of laughter. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, casting a warm glow across the room, making the jewels and gold embroidery on the women’s gowns sparkle like stars. The scent of fresh flowers—roses, lilies, and lavender—filled the air, carefully arranged in vases along the marble entrance.

From the grand ballroom, the sound of an orchestra drifted through the open doors, playing a lively waltz. Couples twirled gracefully across the polished floor, the men in sharp tailcoats and the women in flowing gowns, their gloved hands clasped as they moved in perfect sync to the rhythm of the music.

At first, she found the scene enchanting. The music lifted her spirits, and the laughter and chatter of the guests gave the event a lively energy. For a while, she lingered near the ballroom's entrance, watching as her older sister danced effortlessly, drawing the admiring gazes of her suitors. Her sister’s laughter was bright and carefree, her steps light as she gracefully moved from one partner to the next, basking in the attention that seemed to follow her wherever she went.

But as the night wore on, the novelty of the evening began to fade. The music, though beautiful, started to blur into one endless melody. The conversations she overheard were all the same—flattery, gossip, idle small talk that held no interest for her. Her gaze wandered across the room, seeking something, anything, to break the monotony.

With a sigh, she glanced back at her sister, now deeply engaged in conversation with a charming young man. Feeling a sense of restlessness, she quietly slipped away from the ballroom, unnoticed in the crowd. Her heart quickened with the thrill of sneaking off, a welcome change from the tedious formality of the night.

The mansion was vast, with long corridors and grand staircases that spiraled upwards. The polished wooden floors echoed softly beneath her steps as she ventured deeper into the house, passing gilded mirrors and tapestries that told stories of battles long past. The dimly lit hallways were quieter, a sharp contrast to the lively atmosphere she had just left behind. 

She wandered through the mansion, her fingers grazing the carved banisters and running along the walls as she explored. Rooms lined the hallways, some with the doors ajar, giving glimpses of richly furnished sitting rooms. In one, she saw a roaring fireplace casting shadows across the walls.

There was something exciting about exploring the unknown parts of the estate, far away from the watchful eyes of her acquaintances and the prying eyes of society. Here, in the quiet, she felt free—free from the expectations of being the perfect guest, the perfect sister. 

Perhaps tonight wouldn’t be so boring after all.

Unbeknownst to her, a young gentleman had already found solace in the quiet shadows of the library. He, too, had slipped away from the ball, disinterested in the swirling gowns, the polite conversations, and the endless formalities of the evening. Unlike the others, he found little joy in the spectacle of such events. The loud music and forced socializing grated on him, and the charm of the ball had worn thin long before it began.

He had retreated to the library—a sanctuary of silence compared to the bustling ballrooms and crowded foyers. The air here was different, filled not with chatter but with the rich scent of aged leather-bound books and polished wood. The soft flicker of candlelight cast long, dancing shadows across the rows of shelves, their spines gleaming in the warm glow.

Settling into a plush, high-backed chair near the hearth, he let out a quiet sigh of relief. Here, he could finally breathe. A large book sat on the table beside him, its cover worn but still handsome, with gold lettering that caught the light. He picked it up, feeling the familiar weight of it in his hands, and carefully turned the pages, the rustling sound a soothing contrast to the noise he had just escaped.

As he began to lose himself in the words on the page, his mind quieted, the world outside the library melting away. The soft crackle of the fire and the faint glow of the flames created an almost hypnotic atmosphere, lulling him into a state of peaceful concentration.

But just as he was beginning to immerse himself in the book, the faint creak of the library door broke the stillness. His eyes lifted from the page, his attention immediately drawn to the sound. In the dim light, the door opened slowly, and through the narrow gap, he saw a figure step quietly into the room.

His brows furrowed slightly in surprise. Rarely did anyone venture to the library during these social gatherings—most preferred the gaiety of the ballroom or the lively conversations in the parlor. But there she was, standing in the doorway, her silhouette softly illuminated by the light spilling in from the hall.

She didn’t notice him at first, too busy taking in the surroundings with wide, curious eyes. The flickering candlelight caught the dark hues of her modest dress, highlighting the delicate features of her face and the gleam of her eyes. There was a quiet energy about her, a restlessness that mirrored his own. Her expression seemed thoughtful, as if she, too, had come here to escape the expectations of the evening.

He remained perfectly still, watching her from his shadowed corner. 

His heart beat a little faster, though he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was the surprise of seeing someone else seeking refuge in the same quiet corner of the mansion, or perhaps it was the sudden awareness that he was no longer alone in his solitude.

Just as she reached in, her gaze shifted, and she spotted him in the chair. Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to pause. Her expression flickered between surprise and embarrassment, as though she hadn’t expected anyone else to be there.

For a moment, neither of them moved or spoke. The quiet of the library wrapped around them like a shared secret, far removed from the laughter and music still echoing faintly through the house. It was as if they were in a world of their own, two souls who had unknowingly sought the same refuge from the evening’s festivities.

“Oh, please excuse me,” he said with a light smile, breaking the silence. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Oh, sorry! No, no, excuse me,” she hurried to say. “I didn’t see... or think that someone was in here.”

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“No need to apologize,” he said casually with a slight nod. “If anything, I should be the one to do so, as I was the one hiding in the library.” He chuckled quietly as she approached him with a slightly sheepish look, leaving the door half open behind her.

She smiled a little, entertained by the young man’s comments and noticing the choice of words. “You really must not like balls, having just admitted that you were 'hiding' in the library rather than enjoying the books.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear trying to look around.

He grinned at her response, admiring her astute observation, suddenly intrigued by her.

“Ah,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “you’ve caught me red-handed, I do admit, dances are not my thing. The noise, the crowds, the social demands... it’s all very tedious, to be completely honest.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“I much prefer a quiet space like this,” he added, gesturing toward the library around them. “Somewhere I can think and read in peace.”

She nodded, listening to him. “In that, Sir, we agree,” The firelight danced across her figure as she took a few tentative steps deeper into the room, her fingers lightly brushing the spines of the books as she passed by. She paused in front of one of the shelves, tilting her head as though reading the titles. For a moment, she seemed to forget where she was, lost in the world of books surrounding her.

“If you dislike them that much, why do you attend?” she asked in a serene voice.

“Well,” he began, looking at her with a slightly playful smile. As she entered the room within the reach of the candlelight, he could make out more of her features—her long, curly blonde hair that fell in disarray from what seemed to have been an elaborate hairdo, her slender figure, and her cherry-red dress that had no special cut or accessories. She looked simple, and yet... he thought. 

“My uncle, bless him, believes in the importance of social appearances,” He rolled his eyes slightly, a mix of fondness and annoyance in his expression. “He has this notion that, as a member of a wealthy family, it is my ‘duty’ to attend these events,”

He let out a small sigh. “And unfortunately, I haven’t figured out how to convince him otherwise yet.”

“He sounds like a very reasonable man,” she said, lifting her eyes from the books to look at him. “And the poor gentleman has to deal with a not-very-sociable nephew.” She grinned softly.

He chuckled at her words, and she giggled as well, a glint of amusement in his eyes. —Her face looked like a snow fairy’s, pale and playful, and the way she smiled, trying to appear like a proper lady, was betrayed by the mischievous corners of her lips, he considered.

“Oh, he’s a good man, and very reasonable indeed. But we do have our differences of opinion, as you can see,” He smiled at her giggling, finding her playful nature endearing. “And as for me being unsociable...” He paused for a moment, feigning a look of offense. “I prefer the term ‘selectively social.'"

She turned to face the books, turning her back to him. “'Selectively social', you say?” she repeated his words without looking at him. “Have I passed the selection test for you to be rather social with me?” She picked a book from the top shelf and opened it to the first page.

He tilted his head slightly, intrigued by her question. “Well,” he said with a hint of playful sarcasm, “if we’re talking about a selection process, you seem to be passing with flying colors.”

“Well, I’m honored.” she said, turning her head slightly to look at him over her shoulder.

He watched her pull out a book from the top shelf. “Selecting anything interesting to read there?” he asked, his eyes lingering on the title for a moment before returning to her.

She took two steps in his direction and showed him the cover of the book she chose. “Just a little novel. A Tale of Two Cities is the title.” she said, loud and proud, in a nonchalant tone.

He leaned forward to take a look at the book she showed him. A small smile appeared on his face as he recognized the title. “Ah, Charles Dickens. A delightful read indeed,” His eyes trailed from the book title back to her. “A ‘little’ novel, you say? Given that it’s Dickens, I wouldn’t consider it ‘little'.” he joked.

She chuckled softly. “Well, now you, given your response, Sir, have passed my test.” She looked into the book with a smile.

He couldn’t help but smile at her words, enjoying the banter between them. 

“Oh, have I?” he asked, feigning a look of surprise. “I’m truly honored to earn that approval.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. “So, if we’ve both managed to pass each other’s selection test, I believe that makes us... friends?”

“Oh, yes, we are friends indeed,” she said, lifting her gaze from the book to look at him joyfully. “And does my friend have a name?”

He chuckled at her question, realizing he hadn’t yet introduced himself. “Ah, of course. How silly of me to forget such an important detail.”

He stood up from his chair, giving a small, gentlemanly bow. “Jasper Kitson DeBlanc, at your service,” he said, his smile widening. “But my friends call me Kitt.”

She looked at him as he stood up, noticing that he was almost of the same stature as her, so he must be of youngage maybe the same as her. Her eyes wandered over him, noting that his dark, wavy hair was messy. It was hard to tell in the dim light if it was black or just dark brown. Despite his hair’s disheveled appearance, his clothes were high-quality and tailored to him—a definite look of a carefree rich boy, she thought.

“As we are giving our legal names,” she sighed, grabbing the corner of her skirt with her free hand and lifting it a little as she made an elegant bow, “My name is Rosemary Mae Thomas, but please...” She lifted her head with a pleading smile. “Call me Rory.”

Kitt chuckled at her introduction, thoroughly entertained as he sat back down. “Well, Rory, ” he said, emphasizing the endearing nickname, “it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I must say, ‘Rosemary’ is quite a beautiful name.”

She rolled her eyes discreetly. “Thank you. It was my grandmother’s,” she said with a hint of annoyance, as she didn’t like her full name.

He shifted in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “And may I ask, what has led you to the wonderful world of Dickens tonight, Rory?” Kitt watched her as she walked around the room, admiring her confidence and wit. He chuckled softly.

She roamed through the room until she stopped to lean against a pillar, sighing. “I do not feel like dancing tonight.”

“Why is that so?” he asked, tilting his head with curiosity.

“Some personal matters, nothing of importance,” she shrugged. “I find Dickens to be more pleasant than some boys tripping over themselves to win the ladies praise,” she said, making a dismissive gesture with her hand.

“Ah, so not only do you appreciate fine literature, you also have a flair for sarcasm.” He leaned back in his chair again, a playful grin on his face. “And indeed, our gracious host made us a favor with his remarkable knowledge regarding appropriate book collections.”

She chuckled at his comments but pressed her lips together so as not to be noticed. “And you, Sir Kitt, you have it as well... a good sense for literature and sarcasm, I mean.” She raised her eyebrows playfully.

Kitt grinned wider at her observation. “Why, I’m honored to have earned such a compliment from someone as distinguished as you.”

He leaned forward, his arms resting on the chair’s armrests. “It’s refreshing to meet someone who can match me in sarcasm and wit. I believe we’ll make great conversation partners.”

“That indeed, if we see each other again...”

He looked at her, concerned, about to ask why or what she meant by that, but she added to clarify.

“Because this fine gentleman does not like dances, and I don’t always hide in libraries,” she grinned at him teasingly , then looked through the half-open door that led back to the dance room as she heard noises and voices coming closer. “I think I must go back now... It’s not proper for a young lady to be alone with a gentleman.”

Kitt followed her gaze to the door, and a slight look of disappointment crossed his face. “Ah, of course,” he said, understanding the societal expectations. “Can’t have the young lady defying the rules.”

“That is something I could only dare to do in my wildest dreams...” she whispered, longing for more freedom.

He stood up from his chair, a hint of reluctance in his movements. “It has been a pleasure, Rory. I’ve enjoyed our conversation immensely."

“Then how about we keep this meeting between us?" She asked reluctantly smiling.

He gave her an understanding node.

"Thankfully there are no witnesses" he responded with a playful tone. "The only ones who know are us, and the bookworms.”

Rory glanced at him, struggling to suppress a laugh. “Do you think we can trust them with our secret?”

Kitt leaned towards her, his tone lighthearted. “Last I checked, worms don’t talk. But if any have spoken to you, I need to know what they said.”

Rory finally laughed, shaking her head.

“I assure you, the worms haven’t told me anything. But if it worries you that much, you might consider searching for one and ask them directly.”

“Glad to hear you are as curious as me, though I’m afraid now I have to find out if worms have a penchant for gossiping.”

Rory laughed again and gave him a friendly nudge. "You should be more worried about nosy humans." 

She sighed with resignation, knowing the moment had ended. “It has been a pleasure as well... if you ever want to hide from society, criticize the unfair expectations imposed upon us, and get lost in a good book, please count me in,” she said with a smile as she walked to the door.

He chuckled at her words, touched by her offer. “Hide, criticize, read, and spend time with someone of great wit and intelligence...” Kitt mused, a twinkle in his eye. “Well, I’d be daft to refuse such an invitation.”

He walked over to the door, standing beside her. “Until we meet again, Rory. And please, take care.”

She smiled at him warmly. “Farewell, Kitt...” She put her finger on her chin, remembering his first name. “Jasper... mmm, I think I might call you ‘Persy’ if you let me.” She chuckled and left the library, not waiting for an answer and walked at a fast pace back to the dance.

He watched her walk away, a mixture of amusement and affection in his gaze. “Persy,” he murmured to himself, testing the word on his lips.

As she disappeared through the door, a small, satisfied smile spread across his face. “Until next time then, Rory. I’ll be waiting.”