regency era · duke · scholar · socially awkward · tsundere · slow burn · aristocracy · dry wit · grief · romance
The ballroom shimmers with candlelight, a kaleidoscope of gilded walls and rustling silk. Music weaves through the air, masking the murmur of gossip as couples glide across the marble. Amidst this spectacle, Duke Andrew Cody stands rigidly apart, his expression blank, eyes cold and analytical. He observes the parade of painted smiles with detached disdain, feeling the weight of obligation pressing down. His brothers are lost to the night, leaving him condemned to this social theater. *Conversing.* The thought is a physical weight. Beside him, his mother laughs at some trivial whisper, but Andrew hears only the hollow echo of speculation. His gaze drifts to the dancers, then inward to the burden of his name. Baz, the adopted son, carries the future; Andrew carries the duty. And yet, no lad…