It was around midnight when Marcus opened his eyes. He was already tucked tightly beneath the blankets, dressed in his nightgown. His body felt light, and his head a little dizzy, but when he turned to look around, a sudden dizzy spell overcame him. The events before he woke up were still fresh in his mind. He gently touched his neck - no vampire bite, but the spot still ached faintly.

"Oh, you're awake?" Dominick's voice broke the silence.

"Yes, Dominick," Marcus replied, his voice steady.

"You should sleep longer," Dominick said as he walked over and pressed a light kiss to Marcus's forehead. "Now that you're conscious, I think I should let you rest. I'll go talk with Velor for a bit."

"Good night," Dominick said before leaving the room. Relief washed over Marcus as Dominick departed. He knew Dominick's feelings for him ran deeper than a mere companion's, but what they had done earlier was wrong - an unforgivable sin.

Marcus ran a hand through his hair, groaning quietly. He vowed that the scandalous behaviour between him and Dominick would never happen again, no matter how tempted he might become in the future. The words and phrases he'd uttered earlier echoed in his mind, filling him with shame - not for the act itself, which he did not regret, but for the potential consequences. If anyone discovered what he'd done, his life would be forfeit, no excuse could save him.

With a sigh, Marcus forced himself to sleep, resolving to worry about it later.

When morning arrived, Marcus attempted to move, but his body ached far worse than the night before. His head spun, and his neck felt near to snapping. He couldn't even lift his head, the weight of his own body unbearable. Was this the side effect of being bitten by a vampire?

Marcus groaned inwardly. He hadn't expected such intense pain. But perhaps it was similar to when Velor had been bitten by Dominick, his heart stopping and breathing ceasing for a moment before returning.

A knock startled him, and he turned to see his father in the doorway, a faint smile on his lips. "Are you feeling alright today?"

"Not really, father, I..." Marcus trailed off as he attempted to rise, his vision darkening. He tumbled back onto the bed, losing consciousness. Time seemed to pass in a relentless cycle of waking and falling back into darkness.

The cycle of Marcus collapsing and regaining consciousness continued throughout the day. Each time he woke, his father was there by his bedside, brow creased with worry.

"You're burning up, my son," his father murmured, pressing a cool cloth to Marcus's forehead. "What ails you so?"

Marcus shook his head weakly. "I...I'm not sure. It comes in waves." He averted his gaze, unwilling to divulge the true cause of his affliction.

His father sighed heavily. "If you know something, Marcus, you must tell me. I only want to help you."

But Marcus remained silent, his shame and fear of the consequences keeping him from confessing. As night fell, his father finally resigned himself to Marcus's reticence and departed, promising to return in the morning.

Alone in the dimly lit room, Marcus closed his eyes, willing the dizzying fever to subside. Just as he began to drift off, he heard a familiar soft knock.

"Marcus?" Dominick's voice was laced with concern as he stepped closer to the bedside. "How are you feeling?"

As Dominick settled into the chair beside Marcus's bed, he reached out to touch Marcus’s cheek. His cold hand provided relief against Marcus's fevered skin, soothing the burning sensation on his face. Though Marcus's vision was blurred, he could clearly see the worry etched on Dominick's face. The fever seemed to make Marcus act differently than his usual self.

"Not good at the moment," Marcus murmured, clinging to Dominick’s hand.

“I shouldn’t have fed on you that night,” Dominick said, brushing his fingers gently against Marcus’s cheek.

“It’s alright,” Marcus replied. “I was the one who asked you to do it.”

“I’ll endure my hunger from now on,” Dominick vowed, patting Marcus’s head lightly. “This fever should pass by morning.”

“I hope so,” Marcus smiled weakly before drifting off to sleep once again.

The morning arrived once again, and as Dominick had predicted, Marcus's fever had indeed vanished. His body felt light, and his vision was clearer than it had been before. It was as if he had never been ill at all—an odd sensation, but a welcome one.

"Oh, so you’re well now," his father observed from the doorway, watching Marcus as he dressed for the day’s work.

"Yes, it's a relief that I can fulfil my duties today," Marcus smiled, adjusting his cravat.

"A letter has arrived, from Miss Ashford, of course," his father said, stepping into the room to place the letter on the small table nearby. Marcus had been unwell for two or three days, and typically, letters from the main city took five days or even a week to reach Coty.

“Why did this one arrive so soon?” Marcus asked, picking up the letter. The envelope was ornate and carried a faint floral scent. He opened it with careful hands.

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“She might have sent it ahead of time,” his father replied. “I met her once when I visited Baron Ashford last year. She was a lovely young lady—well-mannered and diligent in her duties. I believe you’ll find her to your liking.”

Marcus offered a silent smile. He knew he should like her, or rather, that he needed to. Yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to avoid this responsibility. It was his duty, his responsibility, and he was acutely aware of that.

"Around the next three months, you'll be attending the Baron Ashford masquerade ball," his father continued, walking around the room. He paused, his gaze settling on the faint bruise still visible on Marcus's neck. "I, however, will not be able to accompany you."

Marcus felt his heart sink. He had been counting on his father's presence to help him navigate the social event. Instinctively, he reached up to tuck his collar higher, hoping to conceal the telltale mark.

"I hope that you might not show up," his father said, his tone laced with concern as he studied Marcus's face. "Not with that stage." He offered a small, knowing smile.

Marcus felt a flush of embarrassment creep up his cheeks. He had been careless, and now the consequences of his actions threatened to unravel everything. "I'll be more careful," he mumbled, cursing his own lack of forethought.

His father stepped closer, placing a hand on Marcus's shoulder. "See that you are, my son. You mustn't disappoint me, or the family, with any further...indiscretions." His voice held a note of stern warning.

Marcus averted his gaze, a flush of guilt warming his cheeks. "I understand, Father. It won't happen again."

His father's expression softened, and he gave Marcus's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Good. Now, go tend to your duties.”

Marcus offered a polite smile as his father departed, then released a heavy sigh. Turning his attention to the letter in his hand, he marvelled at the ornate handwriting, each stroke of the pen reflecting the care and sincerity with which Miss Ashford had composed her words.

“My Dearest Lord Bennetts,

It is with a mix of eager anticipation and curious introspection that I write to you in advance of our first meeting at the upcoming masquerade ball. I am Eleanor Ashford, daughter of Baron Ashford.

While our paths have not yet had the chance to cross, I am well aware of your family's esteemed reputation and the close friendship shared between our fathers. I trust that this shared history will provide a sturdy foundation as we embark on the journey of getting to know one another.

I have been raised to cherish the virtues of honour, kindness, and intellectual pursuits. I am eager to learn more about your own interests and aspirations, and I sincerely hope that we can find common ground and build a foundation of mutual respect as we take these first steps together.

The prospect of attending the masquerade ball fills me with a delightful sense of excitement, tinged with a touch of trepidation. It will be our first opportunity to meet in person, and I am hopeful that we can use this occasion to begin forging a meaningful connection amidst the festive revelry.

I look forward to the chance to speak with you and gain a deeper understanding of the man you are.

Until then, I remain,

Yours in anticipation,

Eleanor Ashford”

Marcus crumpled the letter in his hand, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him even more. He resolved to set it aside for the moment, focusing instead on the day's work ahead. He caught his own gaze in the mirror, a brief moment of introspection before leaving the room to fulfil his obligations.

As Marcus went about his duties, a sense of unease gnawed at him. The pressure weighed heavily, and every interaction seemed fraught with hidden meanings. He found himself stumbling, his usual poise faltering. The day dragged on, each moment punctuated by anxious thoughts.

"Sir Marcus?" A small voice broke through his reverie. "Are you alright?"

Benjamin, a six-year-old boy on the cusp of turning seven, smiled up at him, an apple half-eaten in his hand.

"Yes, I'm fine, Benjamin," Marcus replied, mustering a smile and patting the boy's head. "Where are you headed?"

"I'm going to visit Lily," Benjamin said brightly.

"Isn't Lily's house on the other side of town?" Marcus asked, glancing down the road.

"Yes, but she's in the field near the barn," Benjamin explained, taking Marcus's hand and leading him towards the path.

"Are you and Lily close?" Marcus inquired, walking alongside the boy.

"Yes, I like her," Benjamin said with a grin. His carefree spirit was a stark contrast to Marcus's own troubled mind.

"Oh, really?" Marcus remarked as they approached the field. A gentle breeze whispered through the tall grass, a sign that they were nearing their destination.

"I'm going to marry her one day and live our happy life," Benjamin declared, tossing his apple core to a nearby cow.

"Is that so?" Marcus chuckled. "I hope your wish comes true."

"What about you, sir?" Benjamin asked, his eyes sparkling with the sun's warmth

It was a good question - one that Marcus had grappled with himself countless times. Yes, he would one day marry the woman his father had arranged for him, as was his duty. And perhaps, in time, he would come to love her and find a sense of contentment in their life together.

But would he truly be happy?

Marcus knew the constraints of his position, the weight of responsibility that rested on his shoulders. The freedom to pursue his own desires, to forge a path unburdened by familial expectations, was a luxury he could scarcely entertain.

He thought of the faint bruise that still lingered on his neck, a discreet reminder of the brief, forbidden moments he had shared with Dominick. Those fleeting encounters had stirred something within him, a longing for something more than the dutiful life laid out before him.

Yet, Marcus was unsure of the nature of those feelings. Were they merely a passing fancy, or something deeper that he had yet to fully explore? The risk of indulging in such forbidden passions was too great, the consequences too severe. It was a temptation he had resolved to resist, no matter how persistent the pull.

With a guarded smile, Marcus replied, "I suppose in time, I shall have my own journey." He paused, considering his words. "Though the road may not be as straightforward as yours,"

As they continued on their way, Marcus couldn't help but wonder what the future held for him. He knew he must honour his family's expectations, but the lingering uncertainty within him refused to be silenced. For now, he would focus on the tasks at hand, pushing aside the questions that threatened to consume him.