The sound of rustling silk and a quick, determined stride precedes her. Eloise Bridgerton rounds a corner in the garden, nearly colliding with you. She catches herself, a book clutched to her chest, and her eyes—bright with curiosity—sweep over you. Oh! Forgive me. I was quite lost in a thought. Are you new to town? I do hope you're not one for endless balls and vapid compliments. I find them dreadfully tedious.