There was something about the man she had to admit. A mischievous twinkle in his tight blue eyes that, though they seemed stern and implacable, conveyed a sense that this was business to him but certainly nothing personal. Besides, he was someone you could not see around, literally, as he was tall, much taller than her. She had to admit that this man, while he was a nuisance, with his tall stature, dark blonde to almost brown-looking hair and muscular body was a sight to be behold.

Still, she sighed at the sight of him as he entered her shop. She had been going over a garment with her employee Jessica, explaining to her what alterations should be executed, this client of theirs was rather difficult to please. Richards, as his name was, was probably aware that the young and impressionable Jessica was slightly infatuated with him because when he had wined at her a little too seductively, she had lapsed into giggles and shyly ran to one of he rooms at the back.

And so there were alone and Genevieve and started to curse her decision to go come to work today and especially to her old shop (she had started a new establishment a few streets back) as business had been good. In the last year there had been an influx of well-to-do people moving to London from the North and that brought along clientele and a lot of marriageable young ladies.

Genevieve told herself that there was a reason for working from her shop in Mercer street, that it was nicer there, more familiar, but a small voice within had told her that she might have hoped to run into the illustrious man who was now in her proximity. The small voice further told her that she was intrigued at him.

She banished that thought though. After all, there was only one man for her, and it did not matter if this man was six feet under or not. No one could replace Alwyn in her eyes. He had been her great love, her fiancé, her everything. The loss had been, for the first few months indescribable, she knew the end was near, Alwyn had been quite ill for quite some time and his condition was not improving but the blow had been indescribably hard. The weeks that followed she was barely able to get out of bed until she had to, and her finances no longer allowed it. She had felt hollow and numb for ages after that until the last year or so when she could finally regain some of her former self again, but she knew that she had changed forever.

Her heart was broken forever, and it felt like that for three years after his death.

Genevieve had not been celibate after Alwyn's death though. She was human after all, not made of stone and in need of "human interactions".

The first time with another man had been horrible however and she had cried herself to sleep right after because it had hurt too much, all she could think of was Alwyn, the way he had kissed and pleasured her while whispering sweet little nothings into her ear.

She had then decided to deliberately keep her dalliances at a shallow level as she didn't want anyone to come close to her, emotionally, carefully guarded her newly mending heart with an iron gate.

Genevie had felt a hint of jealousy when she had realised that Benedict Bridgerton was coming by for Alina, not for her, sure, but she had soon realised that she didn't really care. She liked Benedict but didn't love him, they both knew what they were in for. Genevieve was aware that there could be never anything more between them and didn't want there to be either.

She had been with Benedict because he offered her a nice pastime, he was fun to party and forget her sorrows with, and, not insignificantly, one of the better lovers she had ever had after Alwyn. He was number one, but Benedict was a strong runner up.

"Mr. Richards", she drawled boredly, "another visit from you even though I have already told you the previous what, three times prior that I don't know anything unfortunately so my so I can't conclude anything other than you here to purchase a dress.".

He smiled briefly in acknowledgement of the joke, but his face quickly shifted.

"I think we can both agree that I am not here for a dress, Madame Delacroix", he said kindly and yet a little matter-of-factly.

"Fine" sighed Genevieve, " let's keep it short then as I have some appointments to tend to later. No,. I don't know anything about where Alina is now. A few weeks after her husband's death, she terminated her employment and left the city. No, I haven't been in contact with Alina since she departed. That is the only information I can offer you".

He looked at her penetratingly as if they both knew she was not telling the truth and she wasn't, he was right, but she held his gaze.

"My sincere apologies but I do find that hard to believe.", he stated but again there was that mischievous something in his eyes that indicated he enjoyed this, this little bit of verbal sparring between them.

"It's the truth", she faintly argued.

Richards shook his head in disbelief and a knowing smile came over his features, she couldn't help but notice how lovely his features when there was a pleasant expression on them but then quickly knocked some sense back into herself. This was an interrogation and she needed to be on her toes and more mindful, everything she said would undoubtedly be scrutinized to pieces later.

"Or is the truth just a theory that you have grown to believe in. Speaking of theories though, I would like to argue what I presume is the most accurate and truthful one.".

"Well, I hate to disappoint, but I don't think I behold the intelligence of discussing what I assume are, intricate theories with you. I am just a seamstress after all, not a scholar", she remarked dryly.

He didn't reply instantly as he was going over what to say next but when he did speak, he caught her by surprise.

"I disagree wholeheartedly with the first part of your sentence. And it is clear to me at least, that you are far more than 'just a seamstress'" he stated earnestly, she could tell he was and as much as he hated it, it was rather flattering, the words that followed out of his mouth were even more so.

"From what I've gathered so far you are an intelligent, renowned, and accomplished businesswoman. So please humour me for a moment and give me your honest opinion because it doesn't make sense to me.".

Richards took a breath before he continued, in a way keeping the suspense even more up than it was already.

"Someone close to you disappears out of the blue and has been untraceable for the last two years. The last person that might be aware of her location is someone you consider to be more than an employee, perhaps even a friend and that person does not inform you of her next destination? Does that seem logical to you?" Richards asked. He had meanwhile walked a few steps in her direction and stood at an appropriate and yet short distance now in front of her, not in her threatening manner but an inescapable one. She wasn't afraid of him, but she could not claim in full consciousness that he had no effect on her.

However, she tried her hardest not to let on and proceeded to act like nothing was amiss, deciding to go with a counterattack.

"I find your reasoning and conclusions presumptuous. As far as I know I am not the only person that Alina is familiar with. Granted, she did not have many relatives, but she mentioned an aunt a few times I believe. Have you already checked with her?".

"Alina's aunt has passed away in January and her cousin emigrated to America fairly recently so that I another dead end. Before you ask, I did also inquire with her previous landlord but no such luck. If I may put it that way.. All roads lead to Rome but in this case, all roads lead back to you".

He was right but she could not possibly tell him.

A few weeks after Tommy's death, Alina had frantically communicated that her mother-in-law, Sally Watson, was planning to take her son Alphie, from her, claiming she was an unfit mother. This was more an attempt out of spite than anything, she had heard from Alina, well more drawn from her that she and Tommy had a falling out on the night he had died. Sally had gone to the police with her complaint, but they had that the "London police had better things to do" and asked her "if Sally was aware of the fact that half the children in town were walking around looking neglected".

But Sally had pressed on and refused to leave, was unrelenting, briefly arresting her had little effect as she kept shouting and the police had caved in promising to do a wellness check. This check was conducted by the same policeman who had informed her about Tommy's death. Alina suspected that the officer had recognised the address and was sympathetic to her situation, there was something fatherly in the way he talked to her, as if he was genuinely concerned. HE informed Alina that Sally was tenacious and even if he reported now that there was nothing of neglect, he did not suspect Sally would be deterred.

Alina did not hesitate for a moment and raised the situation with Genevieve the next day.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Genevieve but I don't have anyone else to turn to and I don't know what I-" Alina had said tearfully but before Alina had spoken the end of her sentence Genevieve had reached out to her, pulling her into her arms, and assured her that everything would be all right, even if she had no idea how.

"Excuse me, Madame."

Genevieve looked up and saw Rosie standing there, her new seamstress. Rosie was a slightly plump young girl with dark brown hair and pale green eyes who talked the ears off everyone's head, but Genevieve could not deny that the girl was a gentle character and talented, especially quick at producing dresses so in that respect, hiring Rosie had been one of her better decisions.

"I didn't want to listen in, but I think I might be able to he..." Rosie began cautiously.

"That's right, you shouldn't have been privy to this conversation. Don't you have anything better to do? " reprimanded Genevieve sternly, not noticing what Rosie intended to say at the end.

She did see the sad expression Rosie's eyes she quickly changed her attitude.

"Sorry, Rosie. I didn't mean it like that. What did you mean to say?" and both Alina and she listened tensely.

"Uhm, if you might know. I'm from Ireland," as if that wasn't already clear enough to hear Genevieve said internally but didn't utter the thought.

"I used to live in Dublin and work for my aunt Margaret. She taught me all about dressmaking and I had a good time there but Henry, that's my husband, wanted to leave Dublin because he has ehm... a lot of family living here."

Something in her voice seemed to suggest that Rosie's reason for leaving was not entirely truthful and that something had happened in Dublin that had urged them to move but Genevieve didn't press the matter.

"If you want, I could write to my aunt. I'm sure she would appreciate having Alina around, seeing as she is rather... experienced," Rosie said shyly.

"And perhaps she could also help Alina find accommodation", Rosie suggested.

Genevieve looked at Alina questioningly and could see she was thinking but a moment later Alina stated:

"That is a great idea, Rosie. Thank you so much. Please write to her.".

Rosie smiled with relief, happy to be of assistance. It took a while for the reply to come but Mrs O'Malley indicated she was going to cooperate.

The reply could not have come at a more desirable time, there had been altercations between Sally and Alina during which Sally demanded to see her grandson. Out of fear, Alina did not open the door and left for work via the back streets, forced to take Alphie with her to work but she was not left alone there either.

On a bleak and cold Sunday morning, Alina grabbed the few possessions she had and left. She had agreed with her landlord that, in lieu of being accommodating, he could keep the little furniture they owned, and she would pay an extra one month of rent. Also, he would keep his mouth shut, not that Alina had told him where she was going, no. She only shared this information with Genevieve and Rosie.

"I would be delighted if I could question your staff," Richards said suddenly, Genevieve out of her current state of pondering.

"You claim to know nothing but maybe they do"... and these words were spoken with a sly expression on his features.

Genevieve was a patient person, but he had managed to consume that patience, but the truth was, she panicked. What if he interrogated Rosie?

"Absolutely not! In no way shape or form will I allow you to harass my staff now too, not here and not when they go home. Let me be clear. You will not be coming here again. The next time you do I will immediately call the police and I don't care that, as you indicated in our previous conversation, have connections with the commissioner and be out within an hour. I WILL call your bluff, make no mistake about that. I have told you several times that I am not aware of anything. You can tell your employer that the next time I see you here I will tell everything in full to the newspaper that manufactures Mrs Canterbury's leaflet."

He had not expected this, and it was clear that he was not happy with the turn of events, yet somewhere he seemed amused at the fact that she so effortlessly put him in his place.

"My apologies. I won't bother you any longer from this point on" and he seemed sincere in his intonation.

Suddenly feeling exasperated, Genevieve didn't reply but just looked at him and he did vice versa, silently. There was something in the air then - a sense of something they both couldn't describe and neither of him was able to divert gazes.

He seemed to want to say something, but he backed away at the last moment as the doorbell rang and customers entered and they both looked in the direction where the sound was coming from, but not fast enough apparently but because when they did they saw the suspicious looks of their visitors.

"Mrs Hartford. Welcome, I.. I was just finishing up here," she said with a slanted glance at Richards.

"Miss Jasmine, lovely to see you as well" greeted Genevieve before turning back to Richards.

"I am afraid you're lost, Sir. This is not Addle Street but if you turn left at the end of this one, and then turn right at the end of the following one, you should have no problem finding it".

Smart woman, thought Alex, quick on her feet with the lie.

"Thank you Madame. Have a good day" and he tipped his hat to her and the other ladies before finally exiting but Genevieve had a significant feeling this would not be the last time she would see him.

The next day Richards, Richards, or Alex as his name, was stumped and out of leads. No one knew anything. Intercepting Genevieve's mail before it was delivered, postmen's salaries weren't exactly high now, and many a man therefore had no qualms about delivering or not delivering something or giving information, had also borne no fruit so far. There had been no communication... and that surprised him in a way but also not, but he knew... that a letter had to be sent.

But when?

Fed up with sitting in his small and musty office, he decided to stretch his legs. He walked towards the door but when he opened it he was greeted by his aide. Nichols, that was the name of the young postman, looked around nervously and handed him the letter. Alex immediately reached for his pocket and retrieved a note or two from there to hand over later and closed the door without saying anything.

Alex quickly glanced at the envelope and read the address the letter was meant to go to.

"22 Dawson Street" and then.. .

"DUBLIN".

A smile of triumph came over his features. Gotcha, he thought. It had taken a while, but he always succeeded, his patience had been rewarded and now.. it was off to Benedict Bridgerton's residence so he could inform him of the news.

"Dearest friend, Alina,

I hope you are well and thriving.

I probably shouldn't write this letter, but I feel obliged to inform you. Benedict has hired a private detective and he seems to be rather good. I am trying to brush him off, but he doesn't seem to want to take the hint.

As for Benedict, he is no longer married, there was rather a huge scandal about his divorce and the Bridgerton's have not been to any ball for a while. I suspect that is why he is keen to see you.

I know you don't want anything more to do with him, but I think you should know. I hope you don't feel so guilty anymore. You didn't intend for Tommy to die that night after he found out... so please... try to forgive yourself. Be child to yourself, I know you won't but please try?

Don't write back to me, be careful please.

Kiss Alphie for me,

Love, Genevieve'".

Benedict read the letter over and over again and now ... he understood what had happened that day. Somehow. Tommy had found out, maybe he had followed her that day? He must have and then confronted her later, storming out and in a drunken haze met his demise.

He felt awful and responsible so he could only imagine how Alina would feel. No doubt she would feel horrible, wrecked with guilt...

HE felt like a terrible excuse of a human being. He, in his selfishness, had pursued her and he shouldn't have done that... Benedict should have left her alone, only he couldn't, he couldn't do it then. He couldn't forget her no matter how many times he tried, everything inside him screamed that he loved her and only her.

Yes he had been selfish, or too madly in love, either or both but he had never meant for this to happen either. His inaction had caused consequences and the result was a child who would grow up fatherless.

No, she would never forgive him, and she had every right to do so. Benedict would never be able to make amends for the suffering he had done. No. He needed to leave her alone for good now, Benedict had interfered enough in her life.

So why couldn't he let it go? If he was responsible for ruining her life, he should try to fix each it, at least try. She would tell him to go to hell, but he had ruined her life and he could not stand by aimlessly.

"Ainsworth," he yelled.

"Yes, Sir" said his butler who came in shortly afterwards.

"Make travel arrangements for Dublin. I want to leave as soon as possible".

"Right away, Sir".

It was quiet in the shop and the orders were just about ready so she asked Mrs O'Malley if she might be able to leave a bit further and she was allowed to. Alphie was with her babysitter and her family; the former had promised to take him to the fair and to spoil him with candy, so Alphie was understandably excited. She allowed him and gave Anna some extra money for both of them to spend.

She walked at slow stride back to her small home. She was so grateful to Mrs O'Malley, not only had she seen her from a job but also helped her find accommodation and a babysitter, her cousin Anna Alina was glad she had saved up over the past few years, putting away a chunk of her salary each time. That had ensured that at least she did not end up on the streets in Dublin.

She had had to get used to Dublin, initially, but she had moved before so she did adapt. People were friendly though unfortunately she received some stares from people on her street because what was a British-sounding woman with a small child, with no husband or family doing here?

People were talking even though everyone knew she was a widow. She didn't mind the gossip but wasn't keen on the 'well-meaning suggestions'.

Her neighbour Mrs Harrison thought a 'young pretty thing like her' should not be alone and referred to her single son James. Then there was Mr Murphy, a man presumably her father's age, who hints dropped at her, that he was getting a 'pleasant pension, sufficient enough to provide for a family'.

She did not elaborate, repeating that she had just been widowed and that she preferred not to talk about such frivolous matters. The last thing she wanted was a husband, she had had one, but he was no longer alive because of her actions.

She did not deserve happiness. She deserved to be unhappy for the rest of her life, to wonder restless throughout it, always looking back over her shoulder, never at ease. Never allowed to relieve her burden.

The nightmares had thankfully diminished somewhat but not stopped. STerker still there were now other nightmares she had to deal with. On her way back from work in London many years ago, she was suddenly pulled hard and dragged into an alley. She tried to scream but her cries were muffled. The man was touching her everywhere in a heavily drunk state, the last mentioned proved to be to her advantage because at one point she managed to free herself after a kick and ran away as if her life depended on it.

That day when Benedict first saw her, she had recoiled when he came to, the incident having occurred just before.

"Benedict".

His name had always had an effect on her no matter what. And again, he had passed her mind, unintentionally because intentionally she didn't want to think about him at all. Not after Tommy. He had rocked her life, more times than once, she realised, and she was done with him, for good, she told herself. The chapter had to be closed but she wondered if... somewhere, however wrong it was, if he was looking for her. The thought was followed by scolding herself for being so selfish, so irresponsible because that was exactly why she was in this position.

Alina turned the corner unsuspectingly and saw a carriage parked in front of her house. A carriage she had never seen before... she watched it carefully as it looked like someone was about to get off. The door was opened so she could not quite see who the person in question was, until it was closed, and the coachman was instructed to drive away.

And there..

There in the flesh stood Benedict Bridgerton...

She stood as frozen, unable to move and for a moment it seemed as if she could no longer breathe and would faint at any moment.

He must have sensed her watching him because he slowly turned and faced her. At the sight of her, he took a deep breath and relief washed over his features, making his face light up. That damned smile of his. That damn, endearing, all-encompassing, all-consuming smile of his that stirred her to her core.

And then she was overwhelmed with guilt, agony, her feelings went from happy to see him to a horrible sense of knowing what she had done.

She couldn't deal with it. It was too much for her and before she knew it, she had turned around and started running.

"Alina!", he heard her call out... but she kept running and running but he was faster, of course and she was out of shape. It didn't take him long to catch up to her and when he did he reached for her arm and pulled it backwards.

The motion caused Alina to pivot and before she knew it, she was standing eye to eye with Benedict, both of his hands steadily gripping her arms as he was staring right into the soul of her.