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His brow furrowed slightly as he gently released her arm.

Daphne nodded, though her breath came unevenly. "I—yes, I think so," she managed to say, though her heart was still racing. "Thank you. I didn't—" She swallowed, the words jumbling in her head. "I didn't see the stone."

"These are tricky terrains," he nodded, a frown forming on his lips as he examined the rocks from where she had just lost her footing mere moments ago. Then, as if remembering something urgent, he blurted, "Lord Richard Harris," he nodded at her. "And you are?"

Daphne plucked a strand of her brown hair behind her ear, feeling grateful that it wasn't soaked in water. "Lady Daphne Carter."

Richard nodded at her, "I see, I see. Well, are you well now?"

Daphne found herself blushing wildly, and looked away to conceal it. "Yes, thank you for asking."

"I am glad," he said as he began to mount his mare.

"Try not to lurk around the edge when you're by your lonesome.

If anything, take someone with you. It was a lucky coincidence that I was riding along this direction, otherwise.

.. who knows what would have happened. I trust that you will be okay on your own after this? "

Daphne could only manage a small nod, feeling her palms soak with sweat with every word that left his mouth.

"Very well. You keep safe then."

Just as quickly as he appeared, he made his departure. The muted sound of hooves clanking against the grass grew quieter and quieter until he was no longer to be seen. It did not matter to Daphne, however, because the impression of this kind, valiant stranger had burnt itself into her mind.

"Lord Richard," she repeated to herself, a dazed smile forming on her lips. His name seemed as formidable as his presence. How tall he had stood, how his voice had carried the warmth of chivalry—just like the heroes in the romance novels she had devoured.

Everything about this encounter felt as though it had been pulled from the pages of one of those very books.

Had fate just delivered her very own prince charming? It was a one in a million chance, but perhaps she had just gotten very lucky.

The next day, Daphne sat in her room, surrounded by her two closest friends, Violet and Isadora.

"Oh, is she going to be like this all evening?" Violet noted with annoyance.

"I believe she is getting a certain pleasure out of teasing us like this," Isadora said, amused. "After all, none of us are getting saved by handsome strangers, now are we? Of course we will hang onto every word she says."

Daphne fell back on her bed, letting out a dreamy sigh. She had gathered both her friends on an urgent basis, having given them no information other than that she had been saved by the finest gentleman in London.

"Oh, I do not even know where to start," Daphne pressed a delicate hand to her chest. "It all happened so fast – truly, he appeared out of nowhere. He appeared out of nowhere, like a prince on horseback. I thought for sure I would end up drenched, but he pulled me back."

"Perhaps he had been already observing you from a distance," Isadora suggested, causing Daphne to jolt up from her place on the bed.

She had not even considered that. "Could he have been?" The thought was both nerve-wracking and exciting at the same time.

"Perhaps," Isadora affirmed. "The only way to confirm is to ask him yourself, of course."

"Oh, I will," Daphne smirked.

"You say that with such confidence," Violet eyed her friend, hesitantly. "Such certainty that you will cross paths again..."

"I am sure. It was fate that brought him to me, and I have no doubt that it will happen again. If it doesn't, then I shall will it to."

Some might describe Daphne as stubborn – relentless even, when it came to getting what she wanted. She paid little heed to those opinions, and instead chose to see herself as determined.

Violet and Isadora exchanged an amused look.

"What?" Daphne asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Nothing, nothing," Violet chuckled. "It is just – this is all, very much like you, you know? The grand entrance of your prince, the drama of it all..."

"Is it not exactly like a scene from a book?" Daphne smiled, thinking back to the moment again.

Oh, it was perfect. Perfect!

"Yes, I'd say so. I am not sure if I'd want the same for myself, however," Violet admitted, "I'd want our first meeting to be quite...normal. I'd prefer someone shy, someone who only wants to talk to me. No grand gestures, just the two of us, communicating with our eyes. Quiet... but perfect."

"Well, I would want neither," Isadora interjected. "Neither a prince charming, nor a shy gentleman. What I want is a man who makes me feel secure, like I can rely on him to make the right decisions. Safety over romance, any day."

Daphne laughed at the contrast between her friends' wishes. "I suppose we're all looking for something different," she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "But I must admit, there was something quite thrilling about the whole thing."

"Your penchant for thrill-seeking is not new to us," Violet admitted, "I, for one, am quite curious to know how this little story of yours folds out..."

Before they could continue, the door to Daphne's room swung open, and her sisters—Joyce, Annie, and Felicity—bustled in.

"There you are," Annie grinned, "Why have you been shut away in your room all morning, young girl?"

Daphne exchanged a knowing look with her friends, but then straightened her back. She was close to her sisters, but not enough to indulge them about matters of the heart.

"Oh, nothing. The girls and I were just doing some catching up..."

"The ball tonight, Daphne!" Joyce exclaimed, her eyes gleaming. "Your catching up can surely wait. We have to start getting ready."

Violet and Isadora exchanged glances, knowing their time was up. "We'll leave you to it," Isadora said with a smirk, standing and smoothing out her skirt. "We have our own preparations to make. But you simply must tell us more later!"

"I shall see you later then," Daphne said, before her sisters fully came to dominate the scene.

"Oh, Daph. It is so important that you look your best tonight," Felicity drawled.

They had hauled their youngest sister over in front of the large vanity mirror that rested on the other corner of the room. They each took a role—Annie choosing a gown from the wardrobe, Felicity setting to work on Daphne's hair, and Joyce inspecting every detail.

It was always like this with them. They left no stone unturned when it came to doting on their youngest sister. Daphne suspected that it was to make up for the loss of their parents, since out of all her sisters, she had spent the least time with them.

"Of course she will look her best," Annie returned with two gowns. She held each one up carefully against her, "What do you think? The beige or the lilac?"

"Lilac," both the other sisters answered in unison.

"Lilac it is," Annie grinned. “It suits her complexion quite well.”

“Only the finest for our Daphne,” Felicity smiled, combing through Daphne’s hair. “Her hair has grown quite long.”

Joyce nodded, “Yes, I think this length suits her.”

“She has always had the most beautiful hair out of all of us,” Annie added. “Do you remember when we used to make flower crowns for her?”

“How could I forget?” Joyce laughed. “And she would look adorable wearing them, prancing around the garden like a little fairy.”

“Shall we make one for her now?” Annie suggested, excitedly.

Daphne opened her mouth to intervene. “Perhaps I am a bit too old to be sporting flower crowns…”

“You can live up to be a hundred years old, but you shall always be our little Daphne,” Felicity pinched her cheeks lovingly.

“And if we don’t fuss over you,” Annie added, “Who will?”

“But I am not a child anymore,” she said.

“Not a child,” Felicity smiled warmly. “But you are our little sister.”

“And it is our sworn duty to spoil you as much as we can,” Annie laughed.

Daphne sighed in feigned exasperation, though a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She knew better than to argue with them, accepting that they knew better than her.

After all, they were everything that she was not. Her sisters were always perfect—effortlessly so. She, on the other hand, felt like the odd one out. But instead of letting her insecurities show, she masked them with a hint of rebellion.

A quick smirk here, a casual remark there—it was easier to play the role of the carefree sister than to confess that, deep down, she sometimes wondered if she could ever live up to their standard.

For tonight, however, she was content playing their little doll, doing as they told.

They continued their little dress-up for what seemed like forever, fussing over every small little detail. But by the end of it, they had truly transformed Daphne into a vision of beauty.

"Lovely," Felicity, the eldest of the four, marveled. "Just... lovely. Oh, she has grown into this lovely lady right in front of our eyes."

Daphne tried to turn back to get a glimpse of her own reflection, but was quickly chastised by Annie.

"Hold still," she urged, fussing with the hem of her dress. "Just let me fix this one last thing... and there! Perfect!"

Daphne sighed, finally glancing at her reflection in the mirror.

Perfect .

It wasn't a word she was sure she could ever live up to. But she wasn't about to let her sisters—or anyone else—see her doubts.