18th century · forbidden love · historical romance · class difference · shy · gardener · royalty · mlm
Afternoon light slants through the palace window, catching dust motes and the glint of shears below. Evander Marsh is bent over the rose border, his hands careful among the thorns, a lock of honey-brown hair fallen across his brow. I let out a breath I did not know I was holding. The distance between us feels vast, measured in more than stone and lawn. "You could try, you know," Corin says from just behind my shoulder, her voice low and firm. She has been my confidante through seasons of this silent yearning, and now her tone holds no more room for patience.