Lidya steps into the party and begins making her way down the grand staircase looking elegant as ever. She is the perfect blend of aristocracy and grace and draws every eye in the room, but beyond that facade of perfection lies a certain desperate longing. A longing she dare not voice.

She makes her way around the party, stopping every few feet to make polite conversation and trade pleasantries. She wonders at how her life has reached this point. Her only son Hilbert, dead, her daughter Delila run off with a maid, and her husband, Collin, off spinning tails of woe from the opposite end of the room, no longer willing to stand at her side.

The sound of a door banging open distracts her from her wandering thoughts and she glances up from her conversation with whatever lord had eagerly leapt at the chance to speak with her this time, to see what the disturbance is about. Her breath catches in her throat when her eyes meet his.

Ansley.

He stands at the top of the stairs, arm and arm with his wife, the Duchess Aldora. They hold themselves with a poise befitting that of royalty, refined and dignified. The perfect image of a couple. However, while Aldora’s eyes flit back and forth between faces of nobility, Ansley’s eyes never stray from Lidya’s.

***

Ansley has been fidgety all day, to the extent that it is beginning to draw unwanted attention. Four times a maid had asked him if he felt alright and four times he had laughed it off, but Ansley is not alright. He is terrified. He had asked himself countless times whether what he was about to do was a good idea and countless times he had come up empty. He knew what the right choice was, it was so obvious it was practically sitting in front of his face.

He had a duty to his family, a responsibility he shouldn’t so easily shirk. There was no longer any room in the cards for such foolish notions as love and romance. He has his wife for that, and while he knew they held no love for one another, being together was safe, familiar. Aldora wasn’t a risk, not like Lidya was.

By the time he should be leaving, Ansley is in shambles. Standing in his room only half dressed and agonizing over the same impossible decision. He is taking so long that even Aldora had begun to worry for his sanity.

At last he stands, making his decision and at 7:45 he leaves to join his wife. He doesn’t bother saying goodbye.

He arrives at the party, feeling for all the world like a coward. A sick feeling taking over his stomach as he and Aldora take the first step through the large archway and onto the top of the stairs. His eyes find Lidya’s without even trying, as if they are drawn to her. The sight of her taking his breath away and in that moment his resolve nearly crumbles, but he doesn’t let it.

Instead he gazes at her, the longing in both their eyes evident, even with so much space between them and he knows then that he loves her with every ounce of his being. He doesn’t let it change his mind though. Not even as the gut wrenching pain tearing through his chest nearly sends him to his knees and without breaking eye contact, gives a single, barely perceptible shake of his head.