“Drat, that blasted class difference…”

“No, the problem is you. You, Ian Dalton. You should have approached her more cautiously. Until she was certain that she needed you, that you could gain much through her. But you threw a tantrum like a child.”

He paced the room frantically.

“I followed your advice! You told me to befriend another woman to lower her guard, and I did. That’s why Laura was disappointed in me. That’s surely why she left!”

“They say if it doesn’t work out, blame the ancestors. No woman would leave a man she loves for such a petty reason.”

“Then why?”

“Because she knows love alone can’t overcome everything. She’s probably afraid her presence might tarnish you.”

He stopped in his tracks, running his hands wildly through his hair. His neatly combed locks became a disheveled mess.

“Drat! Drat! Why would such a clever woman think something so foolish! Drat it all!”

“It’s because you didn’t give her enough assurance.”

Ian spun around to face his sister.

“Where did Laura go?”

“Rip my lips apart. See if I tell you.”

“Should I threaten you like I did Laura?”

“There are plenty of guns in your brother-in-law’s room. Shall I pull the trigger for you?”

Ian grabbed his hair and shouted, looking truly unhinged.

Mrs. Fairfax, with an impassive expression, pondered what love meant to a man. Judging by her brother’s state, it seemed like some dark magic that drove one to madness.

Ian alternated between raging and pleading, pressing his sister for Laura’s whereabouts. But Mrs. Fairfax kept her lips sealed tight, like a flower bud waiting for May, merely watching her brother unravel.

“She’ll come back. I told her to stay away from Dunville Park until your feelings cool. When spring comes and she returns, start anew.”

“And if her feelings cool? If she meets another man and falls in love?”

“A woman’s love isn’t like barbecue that goes bad if you don’t cover it with a silver lid. With such little trust in women, you’re a prime candidate for jealousy.”

Mrs. Fairfax clicked her tongue.

“You’re so emotional, yet despite your fine looks and good prospects, you couldn’t win Miss Sheldon’s love. Until spring, reflect on yourself and devise a plan to win her heart. And here.”

Mrs. Fairfax handed Ian a paper envelope from the side table.

“A letter she left for you.”

Ian quickly snatched it and unfolded the paper.

To Mr. Dalton,

By the time you read this, I will have left for a place you do not know. If you try to track me down, I will cross the channel to a place beyond your reach.

I have a confession. You said I was your first love. But you are not mine. The kisses we shared may have been your first, but they were not mine.

I am not the pristine lady you thought I was. I hope you awaken from your illusions about me.

Laura Pendleton

Ian let the arm holding the letter drop limply.

“What does it say?”

“To forget her.”

That was all he could say.

He dragged his leaden legs out of his sister’s room. The sound of her clicking her tongue followed, but he didn’t register it.

He slumped onto the steps connecting the mansion’s entrance to the garden. He read the letter again.

Even the second time, his mind reeled. Each word felt like a slap across his face.

To Laura, he wasn’t her first love. Nor were their kisses her first.

The fact itself was shocking, but what was worse was that Laura herself had told him.

It was as if she deliberately meant to make him fall out of love. How could she confess a past with another man while loving him?

If he’d heard about her past from someone else, he might have recovered from the shock quickly. He’d have been jealous, sure, but it was before they met. His feelings weren’t so shallow as to fade over something like that.

“She doesn’t love me. I mistook her slight affection for something more.”

The bouquet and keychain he’d prepared for her now seemed laughable. The recipient was so indifferent.

“I’d rather die.”

He buried his face in his knees, sinking into the depths of despair.

“Uncle, what are you doing?”

He slowly raised his head. Olivia, in a pale purple dress, was looking down at him.

He forced a smile.

“Have you been well, Olivia?”

“Of course. I’m a bit sad about parting with her, though.”

Olivia smiled regretfully.

“You got rejected, didn’t you?”

His smile turned bitter.

“So what? Try again. If she rejects you, try again, and again. I know a lady who rejected her husband’s proposals five times before accepting the sixth. He was a pockmarked widower with nine children. But you’re so dashing, Uncle. You’ll probably succeed in three tries!”

“Thanks for the hopeful story. It’s a great comfort.”

He stood up. Despair was better indulged at his own home, not his sister’s, teeming with nieces and nephews.

He ordered a servant to prepare the carriage. Olivia stood by to see him off.

“Uncle, didn’t you say you’d shoot yourself if she didn’t accept your proposal?”

“Who told you that?”

“Just something I overheard. How romantic! I see you in a new light, Uncle. Like the hero of a melodrama!”

“Thanks for seeing it that way, Olivia.”

“I wish I’d get a proposal like that! Anyway, Uncle, if you’re ever in London, stop by Bath.”

“Why Bath?”

“Because your gem will be spending the winter there.”

He looked down at Olivia. She covered her mouth, giggling.

The carriage pulled up. He stepped onto the footboard, climbed in, and closed the door.

“Uncle, keep my tip a secret.”

“Alright. Take care, Olivia.”

The carriage started. He leaned back, closing his eyes.

She went to Bath.

Before reading the letter, he would’ve packed his bags and scoured the area. But now, he had no drive. What was the point of seeing Laura again?

To a woman, a man she didn’t want to hide her past from was a man who meant nothing. He was nothing to her.

He arrived at the mansion and trudged inside.

The butler, Ramswick, approached.

“Master, a guest is waiting.”

He headed to the study. Inside sat the Dalton family’s legal representative.

He bowed politely. As Ian sat across from him, the representative courteously handed over documents.

“Embezzlement has been detected in the Pendleton business you invested in. It seems Charles Pendleton’s gambling debts reached a breaking point, and he dipped into his brother’s business funds.”

Ian skimmed the documents, a wry smile forming.

“Charles Pendleton is quite the man. Squandering Lady Abigail’s vast inheritance in an instant and now tampering with his brother’s business funds. Did the eldest son approve?”

“Yes. Gerald Pendleton gave his consent. The eldest, John Pendleton, is a small-minded man who treats his father’s word like divine prophecy, oblivious to the ways of the world. Every failed business he’s started was due to his father’s pressure, and he’s never recovered even the principal. The general opinion is that he’s utterly incompetent.”

Ian exhaled cigar smoke, lost in thought.

Things were moving faster than expected. The Pendleton family’s shipbuilding business involved large-scale merchant ship contracts. Shipbuilding was a complex process, taking years from drafting to material selection.

But with Ian as an investor, and others following his lead, a massive pool of funds was gathered. In less than a month, drafts were released, materials purchased, and construction began smoothly.

Even making a child’s toy would take longer.

Ian had been certain from the start. There would be shady dealings in material procurement.

They’d use cheap timber to siphon off funds or buy materials through bribes. Then Ian would claim an anonymous tip, withdraw his investment, and others would follow, collapsing the project.

It would clearly be the business’s fault, leaving the Pendletons no room to argue. They’d bear the costs of drafting and materials, leading to their complete ruin.

But to think they’d embezzle funds even before that—Gerald Pendleton had practically handed him a chance to skip years of legal battles.

“Thanks to choosing their sons over their clever niece, the Pendleton family is headed for ruin.”

The thought alone made him laugh. Not only had they scarred Laura’s childhood, but they’d abused and cast out their grown niece like beasts. And now, he was on the verge of destroying them.

It was so satisfying that, for a moment, the pain of Laura’s rejection faded.

“Is Gerald Pendleton in London?”

“Yes. He’s staying with his sons at their townhouse in Grosvenor Square.”

“The evidence is clear, so there’s no need to delay. Notify them I’m withdrawing my investment immediately.”

“Yes. I’ll head to London today and send a telegram as soon as—”

“I’m going too.”

“Pardon?”

Ian set the documents on the table, lit a cigar, and struck a match. With a smirk, he said,

“I want to see with my own eyes the look on Gerald Pendleton’s face when his family’s empire crumbles like a house of cards.”