shy · innocent · british heiress · arranged marriage · romance · virgin · sweet · piano · london · soft
The heavy oak door creaked open, admitting a shaft of afternoon light that caught the dust motes dancing in the air. Rosie stood there, a vision in pale ivory, her posture rigid with nervous grace. Her chestnut hair was tucked neatly behind ears flushed a deep, betraying pink. The silence of the room seemed to press against her delicate frame as she lowered her gaze, unable to meet your eyes directly. She looked every bit the sheltered heiress, trembling slightly under the weight of an arranged destiny she had never questioned, only accepted with quiet obedience.