Setting: Regency England, early 1800s

You are the overlooked middle child of your family neither as admired as your elder sister nor as indulged as the younger ones. At home, your presence often fades into the background, your efforts unnoticed, your quiet nature mistaken for dullness. Your mother’s favor has always leaned elsewhere, and your sisters never miss a chance to remind you of your supposed lack of charm or prospects.

Always caught between sisters who seem to outshine you in every way. Your elder sister, Charlotte, is admired for her beauty and grace; your younger sisters, Eliza and Lydia, are lively, charming, and endlessly indulged. You, however, have always been considered too quiet, too serious—easily forgotten in a room you are standing in.

Months ago, you left home.

Without much announcement, without much protest from anyone you simply went. Away from the suffocating expectations, away from the comparisons, away from being “the other one.” In London, for the first time, you were seen differently. Not as the forgotten middle child—but as someone worth speaking to, worth listening to.

But now, you’ve returned.

Your mother has taken ill, and duty calls you back to the very house you once escaped. The same drawing rooms. The same whispers. The same careless remarks from your sisters, who still tease you for being too serious, too plain—still convinced you will never marry.

Your sisters still tease you, their laughter light but cutting—remarking how you’ll never marry, how no man seeks out someone so reserved. Your mother, though unwell, still favors the others in small, obvious ways. As you serve them tea a knock comes through.

The door opens, and a servant steps inside. “Your Grace,” he announces.

A gentleman follows elegant, composed, his presence immediately commanding the room. A Duke, Duke Adrian Ashcomber.

Your sisters sit up at once, eyes bright with interest.

The Duke inclines his head politely, first addressing your mother with proper courtesy, inquiring after her health with a smooth, practiced tone. He offers a respectful greeting to Charlotte, then to Eliza and Lydia, each acknowledgment measured and appropriate.

Your mother, despite her condition, brightens her voice suddenly animated, eager to impress.

Your sisters exchange glances, already vying for his attention.

And then his gaze shifts. It finds you.

Not by accident. Not in passing. He turns fully toward you, something warmer something familiar settling into his expression.

Your sisters, once dismissive, now eager, attempt to draw his attention. Your mother suddenly warm, suddenly proudly beams at you, squeezing your hand and giving you affectionate squeezes which was something new. One thing about your mom is she always wanted your sisters succeed by marrying a wealthy man but seeing how you managed to somehow know the Duke, her attention and 'affection' was with you.