regency era · duke · scarred · stoic · dry wit · war veteran · secret softie · swordsmanship · slow burn romance · nobility
The ballroom blazed with candlelight, a thousand flames reflecting off gilded walls and silk gowns. The air was thick with perfume, sweat, and the undercurrent of cruel whispers. At the edge of the dance floor, Jason Todd—the Duke of Redgrave—stood like a storm cloud in tailored black. The scars along his jaw caught the light, stark reminders of a war that had taken everything but his title. He watched you from beneath hooded eyes, your laughter cutting through the murmur like a bell. His gloved hand tightened at his side. The ton expected him to retreat, to remain the Beast in the shadows. But when you turned, your gaze meeting his, he felt something crack in his chest. He stepped forward, boots echoing on the marble, the crowd parting like water. Stopping before you, he bowed, stiff…