“This—this is completely fabricated!”

Azel’s face flushed red as he blurted it out, his hands flailing so wildly they nearly hit the desk. 

“Every last part of it! From start to finish!”

Kyle raised an eyebrow, his long finger tapping lightly on the front page of a tabloid laid before him.

There, printed in bold, was a large photograph of Azel and Maude side by side. And above it, in a font far too large for comfort, ran the headline:

<Lady Maude’s Navy Romance>

A title no one could just flip past. Kyle’s languid gaze drifted down, scanning the so-called “fabricated” article.

“I was with Lady Brisa the entire time! I swear!” Azel insisted, his cheeks burning brighter with each word. 

“We were together that day!”

The name Lady Brisa stirred a faint recollection in Kyle’s mind—the boutique on Fifth Avenue. Even so, the pairing was strange. Not impossible, just… unexpected. Still, hardly a matter worth dwelling on.

He’d ask about it later, perhaps.

Kyle lifted his head slightly and glanced at Azel. Then, with a faint, knowing smile, he murmured, “I didn’t even say anything.”

“I—yes, sir, that’s true…” Azel deflated, lowering his head. He couldn’t even meet his superior’s eyes. If he hadn’t greeted Maude in the park that day, this ridiculous gossip wouldn’t have spread in the first place.

He felt miserable.

The article claimed that Lady Maude Hablein had begun weighing her options between the Grand Duke and Azel Drevan—the son of another noble house—and that her fondness for navy officers was obvious. Entertaining, perhaps. But legally? Suicidal.

Kyle’s quiet verdict was simple: They’d better prepare for a lawsuit.

“You said she was alone?” Kyle asked, folding the tabloid neatly in half. His tone was light, but his meaning was unmistakable.

“Yes! Sitting on a bench.”

Kyle nodded twice, expression unreadable. Outside the office window, the songs of crickets seeped into the warm summer evening. His thoughts drifted.

Her maid would never have left her unattended. So, she must’ve snuck out when she had a moment between classes. Maybe she’d even mastered the art of slipping away from that café near her school.

He pictured Maude again—her startled face that afternoon, half-hidden behind a book she held upside down, sunlight glinting on her clear green eyes. A quiet chuckle escaped him.

Azel caught the sound, grinning as if they shared a secret. He leaned closer, lowering his voice mischievously.

“What were you smiling at, sir?”

A faint furrow appeared on Kyle’s brow; he started to rise from his seat. But before he could, Azel delivered the final blow.

“It was your handkerchief, Captain.”

The words carried a teasing gleam, and his grin widened. He couldn’t possibly keep that detail to himself.

Kyle’s lips curved faintly—a quiet laugh, gone almost as soon as it appeared. The night air outside was calm and sweet.

***

At the same hour, two young men sat by the fountain in Fitzroy Square—Lieutenant Lennon Bayreld and Lowell Hablein. The great jets of water did little to ease the suffocating morning heat.

Lennon exhaled heavily. 

“Everyone’s staring.”

Passersby cast them sidelong looks.

“Think they’re… together?”

“Can’t be.”

“But they’re both so handsome—”

The voices of giggling schoolgirls drifted past, followed by the click of their shoes fading down the street. Lennon buried his face in his hands.

“Do we really have to sit like this? Two grown men?” he muttered.

Lowell ignored him, calmly spooning ice cream from a cone as though none of it concerned him. Vanilla and chocolate swirled together—his favorites.

Whenever he was troubled, he sought out something sweet. The taste of vanilla lingered on his tongue, faint but comforting.

Faint… and yet somehow hollow.

It was the same ice cream, from the same shop. But without Maude beside him, it just wasn’t the same. He chuckled softly at his own thought and shook his head.

“Well,” he murmured, “it can’t be helped. Maude’s not here.”

Her name drew Lennon’s attention. His turquoise eyes caught the light as he turned with a smile.

“What, she doesn’t want to come with you anymore?”

“Not that…” Lowell trailed off, staring down at the shimmering puddles at his feet. The clear sky reflected in their uneven surfaces.

“She’s already gone. Said she’s attending the Rosehill Festival.”

From his cream-colored jacket, he pulled a pale green envelope and handed it to Lennon. The color was familiar. The scent, too—Maude’s letters always carried the faintest hint of fig.

Lennon balanced his ice cream in one hand and unfolded the letter with the other.

You must be tired from arriving so late, so rest well tonight. We’ll all have dinner together tomorrow! I’m sorry, but I already have plans. I’m going to Rosehill with His Grace, the Grand Duke. Don’t worry, I’ll bring back roses for Father and my brothers. Without me, no one else would remember to! Expect something as beautiful as three fine gentlemen like you deserve. 

With love, Maude.

By the time he finished reading, the ice cream in his hand had melted into a sticky mess.

He stared at the letter again, though the words hardly registered. His eyes caught only on the Grand Duke and the plans.

The wind shifted, carrying that familiar fig fragrance through the air.

“I don’t know what kind of man he is,” Lowell said quietly. “The Grand Duke, I mean.”

A sigh escaped him, carried away with the sunlight.

“Yeah,” Lennon murmured back.

“You’ve met him?”

“Only at a distance. Once or twice.”

His voice was heavy, weary. Lowell gave a small nod. 

“I see.”

Silence settled between them again. They both watched the square, saying nothing.

When Lennon finally handed the letter back, the vanilla ice cream had collapsed into a puddle in his palm.

“Ah—careful!” Lowell winced.

But Lennon didn’t seem to hear. He just stared at the melting ice cream, watching it drip—soft, steady plops against the stone. It looked pure, yet clung thick to the ground.

‘Sticky,’ he thought. ‘Just like me.’

A bitter smile touched his lips.

***

Up on a gentle hill, surrounded by roses in full bloom, Lady Maude Hablein stood perfectly still, her expression unreadable.

‘A Navy romance, of all things.’

The way that the tabloid twisted her name—suggesting she toyed with her lover’s aide—was almost impressive. Almost.

“Should I just buy the entire paper?” she muttered. “It can’t cost that much.”

Her eyes narrowed. She drew in a long, steady breath, forcing herself to look away from the absurdity and focus instead on the scene before her.

The roses glowed under the sunlight, swaying in the warm breeze. The brim of her straw hat trembled, brushing against her cheek as the fragrance filled the air.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Her lavender dress shimmered softly against the sea of color, the lace at her sleeves fluttering like petals. Golden hair spilled down her back, catching the wind.

‘Ah,’ she thought, this is nice.’

Her lips curved into a faint smile as she exhaled. The natural perfume of the roses was so vivid and alive that it felt almost divine.

For a moment, she let herself bask in it—gentle eyes, gentle light.

No, she decided. None of that gossip was worth a single moment of this view.

She wouldn’t waste another second on meaningless noise. As for the idea of buying out the newspaper… well, she’d think about it later.

After all, she had no intention of owning a filthy tabloid anyway.

With a laugh, Maude shuddered theatrically, brushing off the thought as the wind danced through the roses around her.