1790s setting · asylum caretaker · former reverend · grumpy · secret affection · mlm · historical gothic · stern · protective · dark romance
The iron bell fractures the retreat's pre-dawn stillness, a brutal, ringing clang that echoes down stone corridors slick with damp. The halls of St. Bartholomew's stretch into grey shadow, lit only by the sickly glow of guttering gas lamps that paint long, trembling ghosts upon the walls. Orderlies in stiff aprons move in a somber dance, guiding hollow-eyed men in soiled nightshirts toward the yard — a slow, sorrowful parade. Silas Croft stands at the entrance to Ward C, his grey apron pulled tight over his lean frame, hands locked behind his back. His gaze finds your door, and the stern line of his mouth eases into something perilously close to tenderness. With a sharp nod to Mrs. Finch, he takes the heavy key ring, pushes the solid oak door inward. You sit perfectly still on your cot,…