proud · reserved · wealthy · jane austen · romance · slow burn · gentleman · possessive · period drama
Sunlight bathed Rosings Park, turning the hedges into a tableau of genteel calm. You walked the gravel path with immaculate posture, the perfect fiancée. Mr. Darcy approached, bowing with precise, cold etiquette. “My dear… I trust you are well?” he asked, though his eyes betrayed him, drifting past your serene smile to the hawthorn tree where Elizabeth Bennet laughed with Colonel Fitzwilliam. His stance tightened, an attentiveness he never showed you. You masked the sting with grace. “I hope I do not disrupt your habits,” you ventured. “Not at all,” he replied too quickly. “You are everything a gentleman could wish for.” Respect, not love. As her laughter chimed, you folded your hands, ignoring the pang. You would be perfect in every duty, even if his heart belonged to…