Today, a week after settling in the warehouse, Laura Pendleton appeared outside the hotel.

Upon spotting her, his body moved before his mind could catch up. He quickly donned his frock coat and dashed out of the hat shop. Then, he began to follow her.

All he could see was her back, but he loved Laura’s silhouette just as much as her face. A head as lovely as an apple. Auburn hair reminiscent of the twilight sky. A graceful figure. An aristocratic gait.

Longing mingled with adoration, making his heart pound as if it might burst. Like a lamb following a shepherd, he trailed her gently. Whenever she glanced back, he swiftly hid, stealing glimpses of her face and reveling in the happiness it brought.

But after walking for a while, Laura turned a corner toward the mineral spring hall and suddenly began to run.

Ian, who had been following her in a blissful daze, ran after her.

He didn’t want to lose her. He didn’t want her to vanish from his sight.

“Just stay in my view a little longer. Even just one more minute…!”

Was Ian’s wish too greedy? Was that why fate punished him?

As Laura darted through an alley, she ran straight into John Ashton—the worst possible scenario Ian had hoped to prevent.

Ian instinctively knew it was John Ashton. Shortly after arriving in Bath, he had sent a letter to an acquaintance who had once sought legal advice from Ashton, inquiring about his appearance.

The acquaintance, deeply impressed by Ashton, had described him in detail through a letter: tall, broad-shouldered, red hair, purple eyes, tanned skin, and a charming smile that could melt even a man’s heart.

The man now holding Laura’s shoulders matched that description perfectly.

Ashton began to escort Laura. Ian, as if spellbound, followed the pair. His eyes fixated on their linked arms. Jealousy flared, and the acrid smoke of it seemed to choke him.

This was the man who had stolen Laura’s heart in her most sensitive years. If walking together like this rekindled their old love…

“No way!”

He wanted to rush between them and tear their linked arms apart. But a sliver of reason held him back.

“Wait,” it urged. “It’s wiser to warn Ashton to stay away from her when he’s alone.”

Laura and Ashton walked for a while before entering a house. Ian hid nearby and waited. Soon, he saw Laura leave the house in strange clothing. He realized she had disguised herself to throw him off.

“Good heavens. To go that far. What did I do to deserve this?”

Reflecting on his actions, he watched her leave.

“Even if it was because I longed to see her, I shouldn’t have followed her.”

Two hours later, John Ashton emerged from the house. Ian immediately followed him.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

By a quiet riverside, where a stone bridge arched like a roof over the sky, Ian called out to him. Ashton turned, and the two men faced each other.

Up close, Ashton was even more striking. Ian found his rival’s handsome appearance utterly infuriating.

“Are you John Ashton?”

“I am. And you are?”

“I’m Ian Dalton from Yorkshire.”

“…Dalton of Yorkshire?”

Ian nodded. Ashton quickly removed his hat and bowed.

“It’s an honor to meet you. A few years ago, you offered me a position as your legal representative. I was grateful but had to decline. I was busy mentoring young lawyers and had no time for other commitments.”

Ashton pulled a cardholder from his breast pocket.

“I expanded my office to Cambridge last year. If you ever need legal advice, please don’t hesitate to call.”

Ashton offered a card with a friendly smile, his dimples deepening, making his appearance even more dazzling.

Ian shook his head, barely containing his boiling anger.

“I’m sorry, but I won’t be needing your legal services.”

Ashton looked at Ian with a puzzled expression.

“Do you know a lady named Laura Pendleton?”

At the mention of Laura’s name, Ashton’s smile vanished.

“We’ve shared a precious relationship over several months. I proposed to her, and our marriage is all but settled.”

Ashton tucked the card back into its holder, his face now cold and devoid of warmth.

“Are you the man who’s been following Laura?”

Calling her by her first name! Ian gritted his teeth inwardly.

“Yes.”

“If your marriage is settled, why are you skulking after her like a thief? Did you even propose?”

Ian’s brow furrowed at the rude choice of words.

“Or perhaps you proposed, got rejected, and can’t let go, so you’re loitering around her? Which is it? Either way, it’s pathetic.”

The mocking tone was unmistakable. Ian clenched his fists.

“That’s none of your business. What matters is that her heart belongs to me. There’s no room in it for a man who briefly passed through her life twelve years ago.”

Ashton let out a scoff, his smirk infuriatingly smug.

“You must be insecure about my presence. Afraid her heart might turn to me, so you’re confronting me directly? For someone with such vast lands, your confidence is amusingly small.”

Ian’s fists tightened, but he unclenched them, picturing Laura’s face.

“You’d understand. A man in love does foolish things. We both love the same woman and are waiting for her choice. But you and I are different—worlds apart. Because right now, I’m the one who holds her heart.”

Ian gave a sly smile.

“Even if you once had her heart, it’s mine now. So, abandon your futile hopes and go mourn your late wife. The grass hasn’t even grown on her grave, and yet you’re chasing after an old flame. It’s disgraceful.”

Ian turned to leave, as if done with the conversation.

“Ian Dalton. Did you know she tried to run away with me?”

Ian froze.

“She was ready to entrust everything to me—her body, her heart, her future. If I had chosen her, she’d have borne me seven children by now. Can you imagine how many kisses and caresses we shared before she made that decision?”

Ian slowly turned back, his face icy with rage.

Fury surged as he realized Ashton was deliberately provoking him by tarnishing Laura’s honor. He wanted nothing more than to smash that smug face.

But violence should be a last resort. He clenched and unclenched his fists, suppressing his anger.

“Whatever happened between you two is none of my concern. It’s not respectful to her either. So how about you shut up?”

John Ashton was unfazed.

“Back then, we were so close that all of London buzzed with rumors. Not just in public—on dark terraces, in private carriages, in quiet parks and gardens, we were together. A seventeen-year-old lady and a twenty-two-year-old man, alone. What do you think we did? Even if you don’t want to imagine it, you can’t help but do so, can you?”

A vein pulsed faintly on Ian’s forehead.

“I’m warning you. Shut up.”

“Country landlord, just because you’re the head of a prestigious family doesn’t mean you can silence everyone. Face it. The woman you love once threw herself at a blacksmith’s son. Maybe even her first virtue belongs to me…”

Before Ashton could finish, Ian’s fist slammed into his face.

What followed was a brutal brawl. They grappled on the ground, throwing punches wildly.

Ashton was strong, given his size, but he wasn’t as skilled a fighter as Ian. In his teens, as captain of the rowing team, Ian had occasionally used his fists to discipline teammates who bullied others or slacked off while name-dropping his father.

With seasoned punches, Ian knocked Ashton down and relentlessly kicked his left side, leaving him nearly lifeless.

“Damn it, I didn’t mean to fight.”

Dusting off his clothes, Ian sighed, recalling the fight.

“But I don’t regret it. That guy tried to ruin Laura’s honor.”

He packed his trunk and stood by the window as usual.

The Gothic architecture of the Laurelia Hotel loomed close beyond the glass.

He traced his fingers over the windows, each leaking light.

“Did you get back safely, Laura?”

He murmured to himself.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I won’t make you run again. Please forgive me.”

He let out a low sigh. Which room was she in? Who was she with, and how were they treating her?

“I hope you’re happy. And come spring, I hope you’ll return to Dunville Park. I want another chance to prove I can make you happy. So please, Laura, don’t give your heart to John Ashton. Please. No matter how many kisses you shared with him, don’t forget the ones we shared.”

He silently pleaded, hoping his words would reach her.

Suddenly, a whimpering sound and the dull thud of hatboxes being pushed aside came from behind. Soon, Willow, the shop owner, appeared in Ian’s cramped space.

“There was a letter for you earlier today. I meant to give it to you when you returned, but things were hectic…”

Willow handed over a bundle of letters from his jacket pocket and disappeared back into the narrow stockroom.

Holding the letters, Ian leaned against the window and skimmed through them.

The topmost letter was from Rams wick. He opened it immediately. In concise handwriting, it detailed last month’s land rent and bond interest settlements.

Though sent by Rams wick, the contents were written by a land agent.

Ian had written to Rams wick, asking him to send his trunk and rehire the old land agent—a shifty-looking bookkeeper with sagging eyes.

Surprisingly, the man was competent. Despite eating heartily and smoking cigars anywhere, Rams wick disliked him, but he never embezzled or took bribes.

Nodding at the neatly tallied figures, Ian folded the letter.

The next letter was from his sister and Olivia at Dunville Park. They must have learned through Rams wick that he’d gone to Bath.

He set it aside for now, anticipating his sister’s scolding (“Why are you chasing her again? Leave Miss Pendleton alone!”) and Olivia’s teasing (“Oh, Uncle, you’re so romantic!”). The thought alone exhausted him.

One letter remained, unexpectedly from William.

He opened it.