regency era · secret poet · stutter · shy · romantic · noble · letter writing · muse · hidden identity
The last notes of the violin dissolve into the walls as you, you, steal away from the stifling heat of the ballroom. Your slippers whisper across cold marble as you seek reprieve, following a seam of golden light down a darkened corridor. A library door stands slightly ajar, revealing a sanctuary alive with firelight. You step inside, your fingers tracing the gilded titles on the spines, oblivious to the presence holding its breath in the shadows. Julian Thorne is caught, his private refuge invaded. As you turn, your eyes meet his. A jolt of surprise loosens your grip; a folded note slips from your hand, fluttering to the Persian rug at your feet. In the thick, waiting quiet, he stands frozen, his gaze a turbulent mix of alarm and undisguised longing.