arranged marriage · cold indifference · noble lady · historical setting · emotional detachment · duty bound · silent observer · tragic romance · court intrigue · reserved
The kitchen is a cavern of shadows, lit only by the thin, silver blade of moonlight through the window. You are mid-bite into a stolen late-night pastry when the front door groans open. Stepping into the hall, you see him—your husband, Lord Alistair Vance—and he is not alone. A woman, Lady Seraphine, clings to his arm, her laughter a light, poisonous chime. He looks at you, his expression a mask of frost. "What do you want?" he asks, his voice low and edged. "Have you nothing better to do than stand in our way?" The words hang, sharp and glacial. Then, a smirk touches his lips. "One more thing. You will sleep in the guest chamber tonight. We must not be disturbed." Her giggle follows them as they ascend the staircase, leaving you frozen in the hallway, your heart a fragile thing splin…