The grand ballroom, once a scene of vibrant life and swirling gowns, now felt muted, almost ghostly. The remnants of the previous night’s drama clung to the air, thick with unspoken judgments and lingering shock. Isolde stood rigidly in the centre of the room, the faint morning light painting her pale skin an even more ethereal white. Ethan’s proposal hung in the air between them, a shimmering, fragile thing.

The scandal had ripped through society like a wildfire. Lady Fairmont’s treachery, exposed with Ethan’s unwavering certainty, had shattered the Fairmont name and thrown Isolde into the unenviable position of a fallen angel. And then, Ethan, Lord Ashworth, the man destined to abandon her for a simpering debutante, had publicly offered her his hand in marriage. The sheer audacity of it had silenced even the most seasoned gossips, but the whispers had already begun – pity, obligation, a desperate attempt to salvage a damaged reputation… all the most unflattering reasons for a man to offer himself.

“Ethan,” Isolde finally breathed, her voice barely a whisper. “I… I don’t understand.”

He watched her, his gaze filled with a warmth she’d never expected from him. He stepped closer, careful not to crowd her, his presence radiating a surprising sense of comfort amidst the chaos.

“You don’t have to understand everything right now, Isolde. But I need you to believe that my offer is not born of pity, or some misguided sense of duty.” He paused, his expression softening. "It's born of something far more profound."

Isolde's eyes, usually shielded by layers of practiced indifference, flickered with a raw emotion she rarely allowed to surface – vulnerability. “But… everyone thinks… they believe you are simply trying to do the… the honourable thing.”

Ethan reached out, gently taking her hand in his. Her skin was cool to the touch, a familiar chill that belied the fierce spirit he knew resided within. "Let them think what they will. Their opinions are irrelevant." He squeezed her hand lightly. "What matters is what *you* believe, Isolde. And what I want you to know is… I admire you."

His words surprised her. She pulled her hand back, instinctively retreating behind her carefully constructed wall. “Admire? For what? For being a social pariah? For having a family that has disgraced itself?”

He shook his head, his gaze unwavering. "I admire your strength. The way you have carried yourself under the weight of impossible expectations. The way you have endured the barbs and judgments of a society that seeks only to tear you down. I saw through the 'Ice Queen' façade, Isolde. I saw the loneliness, the intelligence, the quiet fire that burns within you."

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a confidential murmur. "And I saw the artistry you poured into your sketches, the quick wit you displayed in conversation when you dared to let it show, and the fierce loyalty you held for your family, despite their failings."

Isolde felt her carefully constructed world begin to crumble. This man, this Ethan, saw *her*. Not the caricature the Ton had created, not the pawn in her aunt’s schemes, but the woman she had hidden, perhaps even from herself.

"But… but why?" she stammered, her voice barely audible. "Why would you choose me, when you could have anyone? Miss Abigail is beautiful, admired, destined for great things…"

Ethan smiled, a genuine, heart-stopping smile that reached his eyes. "Because Miss Abigail, as charming as she may be, is not you. She sees only the surface, the titles, the wealth. She sees a husband, a position, a stepping stone. I see… a partner. A woman of intellect and courage. A woman I find myself drawn to in ways I cannot explain."

He took a deep breath, his expression becoming more serious, almost… hesitant. "There is… something else I need to tell you, Isolde. Something that may sound… unbelievable."

He paused, gauging her reaction. She merely stared at him, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and curiosity.

"My life… before… was very different. I lived in another time, another world, almost. I was a… businessman. In New York. Centuries from now."

Isolde's breath caught in her throat. She felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. Was he mad? Had the stress of the past few days finally pushed him over the edge?

"I know it sounds insane," he continued, seeing the disbelief etched on her face. "But it's the truth. I… somehow… I don't know how… I was transported here. Into the body of Lord Ashworth. And… I knew what was going to happen to you. The fate that awaited you."

He explained his knowledge of the societal game she was supposed to lose, the tragic ending scripted for her, the manipulative forces arrayed against her. He spoke of stock markets and technology she couldn't possibly comprehend, but he painted a vivid picture of his previous life, a life so different from the one he was now living that it seemed utterly fantastical.

He described his cutthroat ambition, his relentless pursuit of success, a life devoid of genuine connection. And then, he spoke of the game – a digital recreation of this very era, with Isolde as the tragic villain. A character he was meant to discard, to betray.

“And then I woke up here,” he said, his voice laced with a raw honesty that pierced her carefully constructed defenses. “In this body, in this time. And I realised… it wasn’t a game anymore. You weren’t just a character. You were real. And I couldn't let that happen to you. I couldn’t let you suffer the fate that was… planned.”

He looked at her, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I know it's a lot to take in, Isolde. I don't expect you to believe me immediately. But I swear to you, everything I've said is the truth. I'm not the man everyone thinks I am. I'm not the man I used to be. I've been given a second chance, Isolde. A chance to be better, to do better. And I want to spend that chance with you."

Isolde stood there, speechless, her mind reeling. The sheer audacity of his claim was staggering. And yet… something about his sincerity, the intensity of his gaze, the way he had so accurately described her hidden vulnerabilities… it resonated with a truth she couldn't deny.

She had always felt like an outsider, a misfit in a world that demanded conformity. Perhaps, she thought, Ethan was an outsider too, trapped in a gilded cage just as she was. Perhaps, that was why he could see her so clearly.

But could she trust him? Could she risk her heart, her reputation, her future, on the word of a man who claimed to be from another time?

She looked at him, at the earnest expression on his face, and saw not a calculating nobleman, but a man who had glimpsed the truth, a man who was willing to defy the expectations of an entire era for her.

“Ethan,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is… a great deal to consider. I need time. To… to process everything you have told me.”

He nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Of course. I understand. I wouldn't expect you to make a decision lightly. But please, Isolde, know this: my proposal is not a gesture of convenience. It is a testament to the woman I believe you are, and the woman I hope you will become. I see a future with you, a future where we can rewrite our own story, together. Think about that, Isolde. And know that whatever you decide, I will respect it."

He turned to leave, but paused at the doorway. "And one more thing, Isolde. Miss Abigail and her mother… they won't give up easily. Be careful. They will try to manipulate you, to undermine you. Trust your instincts. And know that I will always be here for you."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Isolde alone in the echoing ballroom, grappling with the most extraordinary and unbelievable proposition of her life. The world she thought she knew had been shattered, replaced by a bewildering and terrifyingly exciting possibility.

She had been offered not just marriage, but a chance at a different life, a life beyond the constraints of society, beyond the limitations of her past. But could she dare to reach for it? Could she trust a man who claimed to be from another time? And could she truly believe that he loved her, not out of pity, but because he saw something extraordinary within her, something she had never dared to believe existed? The answer, she knew, lay hidden within the depths of her own heart. And she had a feeling, a chilling premonition, that the answer would not be easy to find. The game, it seemed, was far from over.