The night was cool but alive with the hum of excitement as carriages arrived one after another before an opulent manor. The glow of candlelight spilled from tall, arched windows, and strains of elegant music drifted into the evening air, beckoning guests inside. The ballroom was already teeming with the best of society—laughter and conversation merging into a lively symphony of voices.

Outside, a liveried footman opened the door of a gleaming black carriage, and from within emerged Viscount Benjamin Radcliff. He stepped down with a natural grace, adjusting the lapels of his tailored white coat. His presence was impossible to ignore, drawing the eyes of those nearby. With deliberate steps, Radcliff ascended the stone staircase, his polished boots echoing faintly in the night. The doors opened wide, and the warmth and opulence of the ballroom washed over him. Chandeliers glittered high above, casting their soft light upon a sea of jewels, satin, and silk.

He paused just inside the entrance, the swell of music was louder now, violins and cellos weaving together in perfect harmony as dancers moved elegantly across the polished floor. A few turned their heads, curiosity sparking at the arrival of the notorious Viscount. His name was often spoken in hushed tones behind lace fans and gloved hands—an enigma to most, a mystery that intrigued many. Radcliff allowed a faint smile to curve his lips, knowing the effect his presence always had. He offered a polite nod to the few gentlemen who greeted him, but his eyes were already scanning the crowd for familiar faces—or unfamiliar ones.

Moving deeper into the ballroom, he passed clusters of finely dressed women, their fans fluttering as he passed. A few brave enough to meet his gaze found themselves rewarded with a brief but smouldering glance, one that sent colour rising to their cheeks. It was at that moment, when the evening seemed to settle into its rhythm and the viscount could traverse the ballroom without garnering too much attention.