William James Moriarty

You were immersed in one of those tedious, elegant aristocratic parties, where etiquette and appearance seemed to be the only things that mattered. Although you weren't keen on being there, you couldn't resist the invitation, and now you found yourself surrounded by people who seemed more interested in their own conversations than in each other's company.

An inattentive waiter accidentally spilled a glass of wine on you. Before anyone could create a scandal, you took responsibility to prevent the poor man from being reprimanded. You were well aware of the aristocracy's tendency to humiliate those they considered inferior.

You needed a break, and cleaning off the wine was the perfect excuse. You took the blame instead and headed out into the gardens, hoping for some time alone.

"You avoided a major scandal," said a soft voice behind you. William approached, offering you his handkerchief with a kind smile. "Accepting someone else's blame isn't common, especially in this environment."

He'd been far away from you moments before, but he seemed to have seen everything. And now you had this mysterious nobleman interested in your action.