Miss Rotis fidgeted with the handle of her cane.

“Wandering alone and running into someone could lead to trouble. Let’s use the hired carriage as much as possible and avoid going out alone. Above all, we mustn’t let anyone know where we’re staying. If they camp out in front of our lodging, we’d be helpless.”

Miss Hyde and Laura nodded.

That night, Laura, dressed in her nightgown, sat on her bed, reading the original text she was to translate. A knock at the door interrupted her, followed by Miss Rotis’s voice.

“Have you gone to bed, Miss Pendleton?”

Laura stepped out of bed and answered.

“No. Come in.”

Miss Rotis, clad in a black robe and leaning on her cane, entered the room slowly.

“I’m glad you’re still awake.”

“Yes. I can never seem to sleep early… But what’s the matter?”

Miss Rotis, with one hand in her robe’s pocket, gazed at Laura steadily. Her face was etched with concern.

“I can’t shake the feeling that the gaze we felt at the Pump Room was directed at you, Miss Pendleton.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Men generally don’t take to me. They seem to instinctively know they’d get a whack from my cane if they got too close. Jane isn’t the sort to draw men either. She’s charming, but, how shall I put it, too striking and distinctive. But you’re different, Miss Pendleton.”

“Both of you are just as charming as I am. And from what I’ve observed, gentlemen’s tastes vary widely.”

“I’m talking about probabilities. You have a delicate, gentle beauty. Men want women like you.”

Laura, at a loss for words, closed her mouth.

Miss Rotis often left her flustered like this. Her unfiltered honesty and blunt nature were to blame.

To Laura, accustomed to expressing emotions with restraint and conveying sincerity indirectly, Miss Rotis was a bewildering figure. Yet, she couldn’t deny that this very trait was part of her charm.

“Of course, I didn’t come to your room in the middle of the night to compliment your looks. You’ve likely heard such things enough in society, and my tastes lean more toward women like Jane. I came to make a request.”

“A request?”

“If the owner of that gaze shows up and seems intent on harming you, tell no one but me.”

“Not even the constables?”

“Yes. Constables don’t believe women until something happens. Even then, they blame the woman. But I’m entirely on your side.”

“…I can’t promise that. If something happens to me, I don’t know how you’d act.”

Miss Rotis fell silent for a moment, then withdrew her hand from her pocket. To Laura’s shock, she held a palm-sized pistol.

Laura covered her mouth with both hands.

“If you knew how to shoot, I’d have given this to you. But you’re the sort who’s never even handled a wooden slingshot. So I’ll take care of it.”

Laura knew Miss Rotis carried firearms while traveling, but she hadn’t imagined she’d have one in the safety of England.

In the pistol in Miss Rotis’s hand, Laura saw her distrust of the world. A person who couldn’t entrust their life to vague hopes that the world was safe. That was Miss Rotis.

Laura shook her head.

“Miss Rotis, England has laws. Private vengeance is never condoned by society.”

“England is a land built by warriors with swords and spears. Even in my father’s time, duels of honor were common among the young. I can’t stand to see my people hurt. Especially a lady.”

Miss Rotis tucked the pistol back into her pocket.

“My hope is to never use this and for you to stay safely in Bath. Good night, Miss Pendleton.”

She turned and headed for the door. Laura’s gaze lingered on her slightly limping left leg. A sudden intuition sparked a thought.

“Miss Rotis.”

Miss Rotis turned her head.

“Was it… a man who did that to your leg?”

Miss Rotis’s expression seemed to harden briefly before softening into a faint smile, laden with a lifetime’s worth of joy and sorrow.

“When I was seventeen, a gentleman persistently proposed marriage. He knew I was my great-aunt’s likely heir. I refused him repeatedly. During my boarding school days, I realized I could never be happy marrying a man. When he learned I planned to take my inheritance and go to Africa, he chased me down and shot me. If he hadn’t been drunk, that man, who always praised my eyes, would’ve put a bullet through them.”

“…”

“My left knee never worked properly again. But that’s no trouble to me. Good night, Miss Pendleton.”

Miss Rotis left the room.

Autumn in Bath passed peacefully.

Laura often found herself alone at the hotel. Miss Rotis had a packed schedule promoting her book, always accompanied by Miss Hyde.

Laura devoted herself to her translation work.

At first, she worked in a state of nervous focus. Reading and writing in foreign languages was familiar, but this was her first official translation.

The text she’d chosen was straightforward, with simple vocabulary. After a few pages, Laura’s confidence, she set aside her nerves and immersed herself in the task’s joy.

One day, she felt a sudden urge to move. She realized she hadn’t left the hotel in a week.

Laura set down her pen, donned her hat and coat, and stepped outside.

The incident at the Pump Room was a week old.

Laura didn’t take it as seriously as Miss Rotis. A gentleman staring at a lady was common in society, and Bath was always bustling. As long as she avoided secluded areas, she believed she’d be safe.

Laura left the hotel and strolled through Bath’s center.

Her mental itinerary was clear: a glass of spa water at the Pump Room, a visit to the bookstore to browse, then a stop at a dessert shop for a box of chocolates.

The fresh air and rare outing lifted Laura’s spirits. She walked lightly toward the Pump Room.

But halfway between the hotel and the Pump Room, an uneasy feeling crept over her.

She sensed a strange presence behind her.

Laura glanced back. No one was there. Dismissing it as her imagination, she quickened her pace. After another hundred meters, the feeling returned. She turned again. Still, no one.

This happened five times.

‘Could it be the person watching us at the Pump Room?’

Laura scanned for a hired carriage to return to the hotel. Oddly, the carriages that usually roamed freely were nowhere to be found.

‘I should’ve stayed in my room. No, that kind of thinking is useless now. Let’s head to the Pump Room. There are always carriages waiting there… But what if that person follows me in a carriage? They’d find our lodging.’

Laura felt trapped.

‘If they find our lodging, not just me but Miss Hyde and Miss Rotis could be in danger. They might not even be after me. I have to shake them off myself.’

Laura walked on, feigning ignorance. Soon, a fork in the road appeared. The left path led to the Pump Room.

She stepped toward the left as if heading there, but at the corner, she slipped into a bakery—a regular stop when passing the Pump Room.

Laura quickly explained her situation to the shopkeeper at the counter. The shopkeeper led her to the back door.

Laura burst through it and began running through the quiet alleyways of the shopping district.

She could feel it clearly. The soft footsteps that had followed her were now running after her. The heavy tread was unmistakably a man’s.

Her strength was no match for his. Her shoes were impractical, and her dress, with its narrow skirt, restricted her stride.

Searching for a place to hide, Laura spotted a narrow alley. Beyond it lay Bath’s central fountain, near the opera house and museum, where traffic was always heavy and constables patrolled.

Laura darted into the alley, sprinting toward the fountain. The footsteps followed her into the alley.

As she emerged, she collided head-on with a man.

“Eek!”

Laura’s face slammed into his chest.

“Are you alright, miss?”

The gentleman’s startled voice reached her. Laura, clutching her face, nodded. But she was far from alright. Her nose stung as if dusted with spice, tears welling up.

Half in pain, half in embarrassment, her ears flushed red.

“I’m sorry. I ran out so suddenly…”

Laura mumbled, looking up at the gentleman’s face.

In that moment, she froze. Her tongue, her gestures, her mind, her soul—all stilled.

“Laura?”

The man who had exited her life twelve years ago.

John Ashton stood before her.

The two stared at each other in silence.

Red hair spilling from beneath his top hat, deep tan skin, bold features, violet eyes, broad shoulders, and chest.

In John’s face, still youthful and handsome as if untouched by time, Laura felt the faint shadow of her first love sharpen into clarity.

‘Good heavens, he hasn’t changed a bit.’

“Laura… What on earth… How are you here? Are you hurt?”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. She shook her head.

“I’m fine. It’s nothing…”

Laura gently pushed his hand away. He withdrew it willingly.

“Why were you running out of a back alley like that?”

Laura snapped back to reality. Right—she was being followed. She glanced at the alley. The man who’d been tailing her was gone.

Laura explained everything. The gaze she’d felt at the Pump Room ten days ago, being followed while walking alone, the heavy footsteps she’d heard while fleeing.

John’s face hardened as he listened.

“…So I escaped this way. There are always constables on the road here.”

“You did well. But they’d likely do little beyond comforting you.”

He stared intently at the alley.

“Should I thrash the fellow and run him out of Bath?”

Laura shook her head.

“Solving problems with force isn’t fitting for a lawyer.”

“You knew I became a barrister?”

“I couldn’t help but know. Your talent’s the talk of all England.”

He gave a small laugh and offered his arm.

“Let’s walk. We’ll figure out how to deal with the man following you.”

Laura took his arm without protest, and they began walking.

She could hardly believe she was walking side by side with him. It was absurd, deeply uncomfortable.

For twelve years, Laura had tried to forgive him. His betrayal was understandable. He had ailing parents and eight younger siblings. Choosing a woman who could secure his success over a seventeen-year-old girl with no dowry was, in a way, natural.

Even if he had toyed with her. Even if she alone had dreamed of their future.