Laura’s breathing faltered. He, Mr. Dalton, was in Bath? The one pursuing her was him? And he even did this to John Ashton?

Her feet carried her toward John instinctively.

“After safely escorting you back from Mrs. Chelsey’s, I lingered there for about two hours before heading out to the streets. I was passing through the shopping district and walking under a quiet bridge when someone grabbed my shoulder. It was a gentleman with black hair and a pale face.”

Laura collapsed back into the chair she had just risen from.

“He introduced himself as Ian Dalton, a great landowner from Yorkshire, and told me to give up my feelings for Laura Pendleton. He said you two were to be married soon, so I should stop interfering and get lost. I instinctively knew he was the man following you. So, I gave him a few words of caution. He must have taken offense because he suddenly swung his fist at me.”

Laura covered her face with both hands and bowed her head deeply.

“…My God. My God… How could this be…?”

Laura’s mind reeled with shock. Ian Dalton had struck John Ashton. He broke two of his ribs and marred his face entirely.

Laura neither wanted to believe it nor found it easy to. He was indeed an emotional man, quick to take offense at unpleasantness. But he wasn’t the sort of ruffian who would recklessly throw punches. At least, the Mr. Dalton Laura knew wasn’t that kind of man.

Yet, it was hard to believe John Ashton was lying either. His knowledge of Mr. Dalton’s existence lent credibility to his account.

Laura lowered her hands and looked at John Ashton. Facing his bruised and torn face, guilt overwhelmed her resentment.

“I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry, John.”

He shook his head.

“I didn’t tell you this to get an apology. There’s danger lurking around you. You need to be cautious, extremely cautious. Otherwise, next time, you might end up like me…”

Laura shook her head.

“He wouldn’t do that to me.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I know him. He wouldn’t do anything to harm me. He’s always grumbling, throwing unreasonable tantrums, and telling lies—a troublesome man—but he…”

Suddenly, Laura realized she was defending Mr. Dalton and closed her mouth.

John Ashton, who had been gazing at her intently, nodded.

“Alright, I don’t know enough about your relationship to comment. Regardless, I felt I had to tell you this.”

“…So that’s why you asked me to have tea?”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry for getting upset without understanding.”

“When did you get upset?”

He grinned brightly. Deep dimples formed on his bruised cheeks. Despite his injured face, his smile was charming.

“You know, you’re exactly the same as the seventeen-year-old I last saw. No, you’re even more beautiful now. Twelve years have graced your face with wisdom and dignity instead of wrinkles.”

Laura calmly expressed her thanks. Though she thought his words were flattery, she felt obliged to be courteous to a man who had been beaten so badly by her suitor.

“Will I see that face of yours again?”

“…”

“Maybe… could you visit me sometimes?”

Laura thought for a moment before nodding.

“…Perhaps once a week.”

“Thank you. You’ll help my recovery more than any doctor.”

Laura smiled awkwardly, rose from her chair, and said, “I should go now. I wish you a speedy recovery.”

“Yes. Take care on your way back.”

Laura shook his hand lightly and left the room.

Stepping onto the street, Laura walked unsteadily. As she left John Ashton’s residence, thoughts of him vanished, and her mind was filled entirely with Mr. Dalton.

‘He’s in Bath. He… he…’

While in Bath, Laura had often thought of him fleetingly. What was he doing at this moment? Was he handling business in his study? Strolling among the apple trees in his garden, feeling the cool autumn breeze? Or perhaps having tea with the Starrs at the vicarage?

Yet, the man she had no doubt was in Whitefield was in the same city as her.

Laura didn’t want to admit it, but her heart raced wildly. Her senses threatened to return to that night at the ball, to the moment they shared a kiss in the carriage.

Laura shook her head fiercely. But she couldn’t help her flushed cheeks.

‘Fool. Stop thinking about that day. Please, stop! He hit someone. He broke their bones. That’s a grave wrong. You should be disappointed in him… But fistfights among men are common, aren’t they? And John likely didn’t just stand there taking it… Wait, then Mr. Dalton must be hurt too.’

Laura stopped in her tracks.

‘John is big and strong. He must have hit Mr. Dalton back. Heavens. How badly is he hurt? Are his bones broken? His skin torn? Did he hit his head on the ground and get a concussion…?’

She felt a surge of panic, almost wanting to scream.

‘No, no! Stop thinking about it. Come back to the calm Laura Sheldon, please. Why am I acting like this? Why have I become such a frantic fool?’

Laura quickened her pace. But no matter how fast she walked, the worry clinging to her mind wouldn’t let go. Even the fresh autumn breeze couldn’t cool her heated cheeks.

Laura shook her head again.

‘Even if he’s hurt, it’s not likely fatal. A lawyer wouldn’t have beaten Mr. Dalton to death. Stay calm, Laura. And think about what to do next. Hmm… Right, I should first tell Miss Hyde and Mrs. Lotis that the man following us was Mr. Dalton.’

Laura tried to think further, but the image of Mr. Dalton’s face flickering before her eyes made rational thought impossible. She didn’t even notice what was happening around her—the countless people passing by, the crisp autumn breeze.

Thus, Laura didn’t notice, even after arriving at the hotel, that a man was gazing endlessly at the hotel entrance from the top-floor window of the large hat shop across the street.

If Laura had known his face was as battered as John Ashton’s but that no part of his body was broken or caved in, she might have burst into tears of relief.

And if she could have seen how his expression lit up with joy yet tinged with sadness upon spotting her, she might not have been able to suppress the urge to embrace him.

Entering the hotel, Laura realized it was time to pull herself together. Mrs. Lotis would be in the room. They had no plans today and had agreed to rest at the hotel before going out for dinner together.

Laura paused at the fountain in the lobby to calm herself before heading to the suite.

In the living room, Mrs. Lotis sat alone, in a manner entirely unlike her usual self.

She was sewing.

Laura, so startled that she forgot the image of Mr. Dalton clouding her mind, sat beside her.

“Mrs. Lotis, why are you sewing yourself? The hotel has a repair room.”

Mrs. Lotis, threading the needle into the fabric, replied, “This hotel’s repair work is shoddy. Last time, I entrusted them with a torn silk stocking, and they returned a rag that looked like a twelve-year-old learning to sew had ruined it. If you have anything to mend, Miss Pendleton, do it yourself or leave it to me.”

Laura nodded, quietly observing the garment Mrs. Lotis was sewing. It was a deep purple autumn jacket. Laura tilted her head.

All of Mrs. Lotis’s clothes were black—jackets, blouses, coats, scarves, gloves, stockings, hats, even her nightgowns.

Laura studied the garment closely and realized it was the autumn coat Miss Hyde had worn yesterday.

“Isn’t this Miss Hyde’s?”

“Correct.”

Mrs. Lotis answered without taking her eyes off her work.

“She said she didn’t notice the hem got caught in a door and tore it while walking straight ahead. Jane always causes accidents—spilling food, tripping over stones, falling off a saddle while riding and spraining her neck, losing one glove and rendering the other useless. She’s so endearing.”

“Miss Hyde has been like that since childhood. Once, I asked her why she was so careless. She said, ‘My mind is always buzzing with thoughts. All sorts of fascinating, amusing thoughts. It’s like reading a storybook all day long.’”

“That’s a classic trait of creative people. I bet Jane’s novels are entertaining.”

Laura was surprised.

“You know Miss Hyde writes novels?”

“Of course. She told me herself.”

“Has she shown you her novel?”

“No.”

“That’s odd. Miss Hyde admires you as a writer.”

“I know. I’ve asked her to show me several times, but she always refuses. It’s quite disappointing. Here I am, mending her clothes.”

Mrs. Lotis spoke with a sigh, but a faint smile played on her lips.

Laura quietly watched Mrs. Lotis’s careful stitching. Her hands moved with delicate care.

As if she were mending the clothes of someone dear.

Laura, struck by a sudden thought, shook her head.

“Mrs. Lotis, where is Miss Hyde?”

“She went to the post office to mail a letter.”

“When will she return?”

“Well, she said she’d stop by a bookstore on the way back, so probably not for a few hours. She loves books as much as you do, Miss Pendleton.”

Laura wondered when to bring up Mr. Dalton. It wasn’t a topic suited for a pleasant dinner. She decided to tell Miss Hyde separately later and confide in Mrs. Lotis first.

“Mrs. Lotis, I’ve discovered the identity of the man following us a few days ago.”

Mrs. Lotis’s hands froze mid-stitch. She looked up, her eyes questioning.

Laura explained briefly—his name, his residence, the friendship they had built, the good job it led to, the affection that grew, and the proposal that followed.

Laura omitted his reckless actions and lies to avoid painting him as a villain. But Mrs. Lotis was a writer, skilled at reading between the lines and making deductions.

As Laura’s explanation continued, Mrs. Lotis’s brow furrowed.

“So, to keep you from leaving, he arranged a fake job to tie you to his side. When you noticed his feelings and left the area, he followed you here, lurking around and frightening you?”

“Well, it’s not exactly…”

Laura tried to protest, but Mrs. Lotis was already furious.

“What a despicable man. If a woman says no, that’s the end of it.”

Laura regretted her timing. If Miss Hyde were here, she might have convinced Mrs. Lotis that Mr. Dalton wasn’t entirely bad.