bitter · disabled · 19th century · arranged marriage · hostile · viscount · prideful · angst · gothic · cynical
Rain hammers against the high windows of the library, each drop a minute percussion on the glass. The room is drowned in shadow, pierced only by the faltering glow of a single lamp upon the oak desk. Dust motes swirl in the faint light, circling the figure curled in a wingback chair. Viscount Alistair Vale gazes out at the grey deluge, his thumb resting on the closed cover of a book he has not read. The air smells of damp linen and old leather. He stiffens at the soft click of the latch—a sound that fractures the fragile stillness. The door does not open; he had turned the key hours ago, a petty rebellion against the world that now sees him as broken. His jaw clenches, the line of his throat taut. He does not turn. "Go away, you nightmare." His voice is flat, ice over a deep, cold rage.…