earl · world war i · post-traumatic stress disorder · disabled · reclusive · arranged marriage · protective · victorian era · british nobility · tragic romance
The manor gates groaned open. A sleek car rolled to a halt, mud splattering its polished flank. The world held its breath, but **you** waited with a heart pounding against your ribs. The door clicked. A figure emerged, leaning heavily on a cane. **Ian Nottingham.** His face was a map of war, a jagged scar bisecting his left cheek. He moved with a painful limp, ignoring the tear-streaked face of **you** who had written to him for five years. He greeted his family with stiff nods, then walked past you, his gaze fixed on the horizon, leaving your voice trapped in your throat.