“A most joyous occasion indeed! May I have the honor of offering you a glass of wine, my lady?” Colin inquired as he gently pulled the cork from a newly opened bottle.

  “Yes, of course, Sir Colin. Make it full to the brim, please,” Melissa slurred with a grin.

  “I shall endeavor to fill it so, for nothing gives me greater joy than pleasing you,” he replied with a gracious bow. But just as he began to pour, the wine spilled over the edge, splashing onto the white carpet and soaking his left shoe. “Ah! By Jove! I am, it seems, the most hapless barkeep to ever disgrace a drawing room!” he exclaimed and burst into laughter.

  “Eh!” Melissa waved a hand and propped it beneath her chin. “You can’t be great at everything,” she smirked.

  “How dare you impugn my boundless abilities?” Colin said, pretending to be offended as he widened his eyes and tried to maintain his composure. But he couldn’t help it and burst into laughter. “I am omnipotent, madam! There is naught I cannot do!”

  “Oh really?” Melissa narrowed her eyes playfully.

  Colin composed himself and sat beside her, locking eyes with Melissa. Her breathing grew heavier as she stared at his long lashes and dark green eyes. Without thinking, she climbed into his lap and started tickling with both hands.

  “Nothing you can’t do, huh? I bet you can’t fight me off!” she teased, laughing.

  Colin twisted and chuckled, trying to wriggle free, but in a swift move, he grasped her wrists, holding them with just enough firmness to stop her without hurting her.

  “You send me the most bewildering signals, Missy,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You declare we are but friends—and I would never breach that boundary uninvited—yet you tease and touch as though your heart says otherwise.”

  Her cheeks flushed with sudden embarrassment. “Sorry... I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have done that,” she said, looking down at her hands.

  “No, no—that is not what I meant at all,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I have confessed my love for you, and you are all that matters to me. So yes, I long for your touch—I crave your closeness. But this constant dance—warmth one moment, distance the next—it leaves me adrift.”

  He said, gently releasing her wrists as his voice softened “If what you seek is affection, you shall have it, for I adore you. But I must ask you plainly: am I to remain merely your friend? For if that is so, I must keep a respectful distance. I must regard you as I would any fine lady, though it may tear at my soul. My heart has led me into folly before, chasing gestures rather than words, but no longer. Only your truth shall guide me now.”

  Melissa sat back down, burying her face in her hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I won’t play games anymore. I feel like the worst person in the world, leading on someone like you. Can you forgive me?”

  “Ah, by Heaven, I should have held my tongue,” Colin sighed. “Every affectionate glance, every touch, made me feel like the luckiest man alive. And now—”

  Before he could finish, Melissa reached out and cupped his face in her hands. Her arm slid behind his head, fingers tangled in his unruly curls. Colin placed his fingers to her cheek, his palm resting at her neck.

  He leaned in and whispered against her ear, “Say but the word—stop—and I shall desist.”

  He waited.

  Once more, even softer, “Tell me stop, if you do not desire this.”

  Melissa said nothing. Instead, her hand slipped to his back. Colin hesitated, then began to kiss her neck, working his way up to her lips—softly at first, then gently nibbling at her bottom lip.

  She reached to untie her laces, but he caught her hand and let out a sigh.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “You deserve better than the drunken advances of a man behaving like some ravenous beast in a parlour,” he murmured against her skin.

  “Honestly? That kinda sounds hot,” she laughed, shrugging. “But yeah, we should stop. I’m drunk. I’m not really fit to make smart choices right now,” she added, hiccuping.

  The next morning, Melissa woke with a pounding headache. She groaned, squinting against the light. A loud knock rattled the door, followed by Colin’s urgent voice:

  “Missy! There shall be no mourning for Eleonore today—the Duchess has decreed she be buried within the hour at St. James’s churchyard!”

  Melissa bolted upright. “But I have nothing to wear!”

  Less than thirty minutes later, they were in the carriage, hurrying to the church. This was their only opportunity to speak with those who truly knew Eleonore. Even though both were clearly hungover, Colin had managed to look presentable. Melissa, on the other hand, braced herself for the disapproving stares from those who valued nothing but appearances.

  As the carriage neared the church, Colin broke into a violent coughing fit and had to pause for a moment.

  “I feel dreadful—every muscle aches, and I am so thirsty. I have tried, but I cannot seem to swallow a drop of water today,” he gasped, his breath shallow and strained.

  “When we get there, you can sit by the church while I do all the talking,” she reassured him, placing a hand on his back. “But right now, we need to get there. This may be my only opportunity to find out something useful about Eleonore’s secret—something she must have told to someone. Those men you paid haven’t seen a thing, and I’m afraid I’ll get stuck here. I can’t let that happen; this is my nightmare, Colin. I need to do whatever I can to wake up from it.” She didn’t try to hide the desperation in her voice.

  Colin gave a brief nod and whistled for the horses. They picked up speed again, but the pain was worsening for him. He kept quiet, though something about this didn’t sit right. His speech became slower, and he drifted in and out of consciousness. Everything blurred together, and before Colin realized it, he was at the church, looking down into the freshly dug grave.

  Melissa had expected a packed church. Eleonore might’ve been mad and widely disliked, but she still came from one of the wealthiest families around. Instead, barely a dozen people had shown up. The Duchess was there, with her husband and a few high-society friends—but most of them seemed more focused on Melissa than on the funeral.

  The rest of the mourners were women, draped in black lace veils, though Melissa only couldn’t make out who two individuals at the far corner were. A young man and an elderly woman stood apart from the rest, and they were the only ones visibly crying.

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  Sudden realization dawned on Melissa—it might actually work in her favor. With so few people, they would have no choice but to talk to her.

  She could feel the judgment from the elite, but it didn’t bother her; she had a job to do. Melissa was determined to speak with the strange couple she had never seen before. They seemed unaffected by her appearance, which was a far cry from her usual pristine self. Her eyelash extensions had mostly fallen off, only a few fake nails remained, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t get them off. To top it off, she was wearing a mint green dress, which she was attempting to hide under Colin’s oversized black jacket.

  As the priest recited verses, Melissa moved toward the couple and whispered her condolences. The elderly woman embraced her and began sobbing uncontrollably.

  “Forgive me,” the woman sobbed. “I never thought this day would come. I didn’t have the courage to say goodbye, to apologize… and now all that remains is sorrow.”

  Melissa’s heart went out to her. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said with a soft smile. “I didn’t know Eleonore well, but she always seemed so misunderstood.”

  The woman pulled back slightly, her expression softening. “Thank you, child. I’m Eugenia—her former housekeeper, and I was likely her only true friend. This is Charles, her nephew.”

  Melissa’s mind raced. A true friend, and a nephew. This was gold—everything she needed. But her excitement was short-lived as a loud thud broke her focus. The Duchess screamed in horror, and Melissa’s heart skipped a beat. For a brief moment, Melissa feared that Eleonore had somehow risen from the grave after being mistakenly buried alive. But with a deep breath, she gathered herself and looked down into the hole.

  What she saw made her blood run cold.

  Colin—face down, lying lifeless across Eleonore's casket.

  Without thinking, Melissa jumped into the grave, her heart pounding in her chest.

  “Colin!” she cried, desperately shaking him. “Wake up! Please!”

  His eyes slowly opened, and he weakly whispered, “I feel unwell…” before slipping back into unconsciousness.

  Melissa’s heart raced as she screamed at the grave diggers. “What are you standing there for? Get him out of here, now!”

  The men quickly moved, as if awakened from a trance, and quickly lifted Colin from the grave, carrying him into the church. All the funeral attendees stood around, watching as Melissa tried to revive him.

  “Someone, please—get a doctor!” Melissa cried out. Yet, to her horror, none of the mourners moved to help. They merely watched Colin as though he were some kind of spectacle.

  While they waited for a doctor, Melissa kept checking Colin’s pulse and pressing damp cloths to his forehead, hoping he’d pull through. After what felt like forever, the church door creaked open—but it wasn’t a doctor. A woman in a ridiculous white hat came rushing in. It was Colin’s mother.

  Theresa shoved Melissa aside and fell to her knees with a dramatic sob that felt more rehearsed than heartfelt. Positioning herself so the Duchess had a clear view, Theresa adjusted her hat to reveal her face and cried out, “My beloved son!” She paused for effect, placed a gloved hand to her forehead, and added, “Dear God, spare him! No mother should be made to bury her son so young…” A single tear rolled down her cheek.

  To Melissa’s disbelief, the nobles surrounding them seemed moved. Some were weeping. Even the Duchess dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. Meanwhile, Melissa stood frozen in disbelief. Colin still hadn’t moved, and no one seemed to care. He needed help, not a round of sympathy.

  “You’ll just stand here crying until God takes him?” Melissa snapped. “He needs a doctor, now.”

  Theresa’s expression changed instantly. Annoyance flickered across her face as she turned to Melissa. “Can you not see I am grieving? The family doctor is already waiting at my residence. I needed a moment to collect myself,” she said coldly, shaking her head in disapproval.

  Melissa clenched her fists. It was all she could do not to scream. Theresa clearly cared more about appearances than her son’s life.

  The grave diggers carried Colin to the carriage. Before long, they arrived at Theresa’s mansion, and Colin was placed in an upstairs bedroom, tucked into a silk-covered bed. A doctor examined him and, with complete confidence, gave his assessment.

  “This young man is suffering from an apoplectic fit brought on by repressed passions,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “A what?” Melissa stared at him, stunned.

  The doctor gestured loosely toward Colin. “Strong emotion has overwhelmed his system—no doubt from the shock of seeing Miss Wilde’s casket. He requires rest. Nothing more.”

  He turned to leave, but Melissa stepped forward and caught him by the wrist.

  He yanked his arm free, clearly offended. “I shall not be spoken to in such a manner by a woman,” he said sharply. “I am a man of learning and of good standing. My diagnosis is sound.” With that, he stormed out. Theresa ran after him, apologizing profusely.

  Melissa sank into the nearest chair and let out a long sigh. Then, from the bed, a weak voice muttered, “Ah yes, a man of science—how very daring of you to question his divine authority. What would the world come to if women started forming opinions?”

  Melissa jumped up. He was barely conscious and somehow still smiling. She pressed his limp hand to her cheek.

  “Do not die on me,” she said with a shaky voice. “I swear, if you die on me, I’ll kill you.”

  He started laughing, which sent him straight into another coughing fit. He gasped, struggling to breathe.

  “What is it? What hurts?” Melissa asked, panicked.

  “I suspect the Duchess shall not be inviting me to any future gatherings,” he said with a faint smile. “It seems I keep spoiling her plans.”

  “This is not a joke,” she snapped. “Tell me what is wrong.”

  “You need not trouble yourself on my account. I ensured your protection before we ever stepped foot in that ballroom—I had a marriage certificate drawn up. Precautionary, of course.”

  “You think I care about that? I care about you being alive!”

  He closed his eyes briefly. “If you are safe, then I have no cause to ask for more.”

  He gave a tired smile and asked for water. She brought him a glass and tried to help him drink, but he couldn’t manage a sip. His hands were stiff, and he could barely lift his head. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep. It didn’t feel like rest—it felt like slipping away.

  Days passed. His breathing grew more shallow, and he could hardly speak. Colin asked to be taken home.

  Theresa agreed. When they arrived at Colin’s house, she stayed in the carriage. She finally cried—but only now, with no one watching.

  Colin was placed in bed. Melissa curled up beside him and asked if there was anything she could do.

  “Read to me,” he said. “The story of Jack Spriggins and the Enchanted Bean.”

  She began reading. He smiled faintly, and whispered, “I wish I had a magic bean of my own. One that could grow a bridge to your world. Barring that, I fear I have no means by which to keep my promise to see you safely home.”

  “Do not talk like that,” she said with her voice shaking. “You promised, and gentlemen keep their promises.”

  He reached for Melissa, his fingers brushing her cheek with a softness that barely registered. “If only it were that simple. Had I the power of magic, I would brew a cure for every ailment. But failing that… I can only ensure you shall inherit much... as a widow.”

  Melissa suddenly sat up. Her eyes widened.

  “Oh my God. I am such an idiot.”

  She grabbed his bandaged arm. “Tetanus. That nail—Eleonore stabbed you with a rusty nail. It’s an infection!”

  She dug through her backpack, tossing aside makeup and tangled earbuds until she found the small pouch of medicine her friend had forced her to bring.

  “Forget magic beans,” she muttered. “This is Big Pharma, baby.”

  Bit by bit, she fed him the medicine, dissolved in water. Eventually, he drifted to sleep again. Melissa stayed up, watching him through the night, afraid to look away.

  At dawn, she finally closed her eyes for just a second. When she woke up, the bed was empty. She jumped up and started calling Colin’s name, running through the house in a panic.

  She threw every door open until she found Colin, who was kneeling mid-pee over a chamber pot.

  Without thinking, she dropped to her knees and hugged him.

  “That is not quite how I envisioned you first seeing me naked,” he said, with a faint, teasing smile.

  She held him tighter. “And I never thought I could be so happy to see a man pee but here we are.”