Chapter 1.2

It must be a misunderstanding. Natalie considered her eye contact with Mr. Wharton a mere coincidence. There was no reason for him to show interest in her.  

“Natalie!”  

A familiar voice called out. It was Mrs. Mars. Beside her stood a man who looked far too old to be unmarried.  

“Mrs. Mars said she’d find you a partner.”  

Her father’s words resurfaced in her mind, bringing with them an ominous feeling. 

The man with deeply furrowed brows—surely it wasn’t him….  

It must be a misunderstanding. It had to be.  

She hoped she had misunderstood and that this overly mature gentleman wasn’t her partner. But their eyes met—eyes long devoid of youthful vitality.  

Natalie quickly averted her gaze. Draped in a luxurious shawl, Mrs. Mars stopped right in front of her. Natalie instinctively stepped back, like prey facing a predator.  

Mrs. Mars approached with a smile but frowned slightly upon seeing Natalie’s attire. The steep angle of her furrowed brows seemed to express her pity.  

“My goodness, Natalie. Why didn’t you ask me for a dress? Surely, there’s a color that would suit you better…. You look so pale.”  

Natalie glanced down at her pink dress, which she hadn’t given a second thought to until now.  

Mrs. Mars, who had been scrutinizing Natalie’s dress with a displeased expression, then turned her attention to her hair. Natalie realized she was looking at the ribbon tied in her hair—a pink ribbon, just like her dress.  

Natalie awkwardly adjusted the end of the ribbon and forced a smile. A natural, sociable smile had always been difficult for her.  

“Thank you for your concern.”  

“No, I should’ve been more attentive.”  

Mrs. Mars gently took Natalie’s hand. At that moment, Natalie recalled something Sally had said.  

“That man is just waiting for the day he can escape Mrs. Mars.”  

Sally had shared rumors that Mrs. Mars was searching for a new husband, with their father, Lord Maron, a widower, being one of the candidates.  

Now, Natalie found herself awkwardly holding the hand of someone who might become the next Lady Maron—a woman who felt more like a stranger than family.  

A cough interrupted the moment. Mrs. Mars brought the man closer to Natalie.  

“Natalie, this is Mr. Collins. He’s the only son of a prestigious family, studied at a renowned university, possesses both intelligence and humility, is frugal, respectable, and also….”  

Natalie couldn’t focus on Mrs. Mars’ glowing praise of Mr. Collins.  

All she could do was desperately hope that he wasn’t her partner and that she wouldn’t have to hold his constantly fidgeting, twig-like hands while dancing.  

“Above all, he’s so considerate that he’s agreed to be your partner….”  

The word “partner” struck her ears like a hammer, and Natalie felt her heart sink.  

“…for tonight.”  

Natalie found herself locking eyes with Mrs. Mars, who had stepped closer. In a lowered voice, Mrs. Mars added,  

“You need to find a good match so your father can finally have some peace of mind, don’t you?”  

“…Of course.”  

Natalie’s gaze darted toward the door, searching for an escape route, but her view was blocked by the approaching Mr. Collins.  

She felt trapped, surrounded by the two of them. She longed for the quiet moments by the window, reading a book as the breeze gently blew in.  

Her eyes wandered to the window.  

Standing there was Mr. Wharton.  

Once again, their eyes met.  

This time, too, Mr. Wharton was looking at her. It was a little too strange to be a coincidence.  

“I hear you enjoy reading.”  

A weak, thin voice interrupted her thoughts. Before she knew it, Mrs. Mars had stepped aside, leaving her alone with Mr. Collins.  

“What kind of books do you read?”  

As Mr. Collins took a step closer, Natalie stepped to the side, widening the distance again.  

“I read a variety of genres.”  

“A variety, you say…. It’s good to read, but one should focus on books of value. It’s best to avoid those filled with indulgence and frivolity. Especially women, who are more easily swayed….”  

“I like novels.”  

Natalie quickly interjected before his lecture grew longer. But Mr. Collins immediately began his second sermon.  

“Novels, you say…. If I were to marry, my wife would avoid such books. Horror novels, romance novels—those shallow works, you see.”  

“But….”  

“Such books are filled with baseless fantasies and offer no lessons or intellectual growth.”  

“Well….”  

“I even question whether reading such things can be considered reading at all.”  

Natalie found herself staring blankly at his endlessly moving, wrinkled lips, unable to get a word in.  

As Mr. Collins paused to take a deep breath, Natalie seized the opportunity provided by his weak lung capacity.  

“Not all meaningful books are difficult and profound. Some books exist to provide knowledge, others to enrich life, and still others to bring joy or comfort. They’re all books.”  

Mr. Collins, his mouth slightly agape, was unable to continue. Natalie had spoken faster than he could.  

“Just as there are narrow-minded, arrogant people and humble people who acknowledge they can’t know everything about the world, they’re all still people. Just as you are, Mr. Collins.”  

“What do you mean….”  

“If you explore the vast array of books the world has to offer, you might broaden your narrow perspective.”  

Mr. Collins furrowed his brows in silence before clearing his throat. Adjusting his tightly knotted cravat, he suddenly extended his hand to Natalie.  

She realized the moment she had dreaded had arrived. The outstretched hand was an invitation to dance.  

She couldn’t help but imagine that twig-like hand as the hand of a husband at a wedding ceremony.  

The suffocating, horrifying thought made her catch her breath.  

Natalie closed her eyes tightly. When she opened them again, there were now two hands before her instead of one.  

One was a straight, elegant hand, like a finely crafted sculpture.  

Thinking she had seen it wrong, she squinted. Her gaze traveled from the hand to the wrist, up the arm, and finally to a beautiful face.  

She locked eyes with blue ones. It was no coincidence.  

The flawless, glass-like blue eyes gazed at her quietly, then curved into a smile. It was a smile that must have pierced countless hearts like Cupid’s arrow.  

“Aren’t you going to take my hand?”  

Mr. Wharton’s low voice seeped into her ears, snapping her out of her daze.  

“You said it was your dream to dance with me.”  

“…Did I?”  

Natalie cautiously asked, glancing at Mr. Collins. He looked bewildered by the unexpected intruder.  

Natalie hesitated, worried about upsetting Mr. Collins and Mrs. Mars by refusing to dance with him.  

As she stood, blinking in indecision, Mr. Wharton leaned close to her ear and whispered,  

“If you’d rather hold hands and dance with that boring man, go ahead.”  

His angelic, gentle voice pulled her heart to the surface.  

For the first time, Natalie clearly understood her own feelings, which she had been too preoccupied to notice.  

She didn’t want to hold the hand of “that boring man,” the nightmare husband from her imagination.  

Natalie turned her gaze to Mr. Wharton, ignoring Mr. Collins. His voice and smile were truly angelic.  

But she knew the beautiful man before her was far from an angel’s purity. He was closer to the devil who had tempted Eve to bite the apple.  

Still, if Eve had longed to hold the apple rather than Adam’s hand, it was a tempting offer.  

Following only her heart, Natalie grabbed Mr. Wharton’s hand.  

Collins furrowed his brows deeply, glaring at Mr. Wharton with a look of displeasure.  

Smiling, Mr. Wharton clasped Natalie’s hand tightly, intertwining their fingers, and raised them high for all to see. It was an act meant to provoke the defeated.

As Natalie followed Mr. Wharton’s lead, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Collins’ gaze was boring into her back, leaving her unsettled.  

But the moment Mr. Wharton turned his head toward her, she forgot everything.  

It was like opening a book and escaping reality.  

The dazzling blond hair and radiant smile of the man before her were undeniably those of a protagonist. The Creator has a tendency to display unfair skill, and the evidence was standing right before her.  

Even as her steps slowed to a halt and as she stood face-to-face with him, guided by his hand, Natalie couldn’t take her eyes off his face.  

Edgar Wharton met her persistent gaze with a generous look of his own.  

“Is it a different feeling, seeing me up close?”  

Before Natalie could answer, Mr. Wharton smiled leisurely, as though he already knew the answer.  

However, just as she hadn’t understood why he had asked her to dance, Natalie didn’t understand the reason behind his smile.  

As she stood there, bewildered, Mr. Wharton asked her another question.  

“What do you like so much about me?”  

It was a question posed with the confidence of someone who couldn’t imagine not being liked. His assured demeanor was so overwhelming that Natalie momentarily doubted whether she had accidentally confessed her feelings aloud.  

As if he could see through feelings she herself wasn’t aware of, Mr. Wharton continued with a knowing look in his eyes.  

“You were bold and assertive when writing letters, but you seem to grow reserved once you put the pen down.”  

When writing letters?  

Natalie’s mind raced to decipher the unspoken meaning behind his soft-spoken words.  

From “What do you like?” to “When writing letters,” she pieced together that Mr. Wharton had received a letter from someone—one that expressed affection for him.  

As Natalie pondered the phrase “bold and assertive,” she was interrupted.  

Mr. Wharton’s hand reached for the ribbon tied in her hair. The long pink ribbon slipped between his fingers.  

“‘I’ll wear a pink ribbon so you can recognize me.’” 

His tone was as soft as reciting a love poem. His fingertips brushed the ribbon as his gaze followed it downward, finally resting on Natalie’s eyes.  

“You wrote that in your letter, didn’t you? I didn’t think you’d actually wear it….”  

Strangely, his gaze wasn’t tender but sharp.  

It wasn’t the look one would give to a secret lover exchanging love letters.  

It was the gaze of someone finally meeting a long-awaited adversary.  

“How adorable.”  

The fiery intensity in his eyes, which could only be noticed up close, was quickly masked by a soft smile.