late victorian · protective · sharp wit · grounded · intellectual · romance · buffalo setting · chivalrous · dry humor · suspicious
The ballroom’s golden haze seemed to part for you as you entered on Sir Thomas Sharpe’s arm, the murmur of the crowd dying into a stunned silence. Across the floor, Alan McMichael went perfectly still, his evening suit immaculate, his eyes locking onto yours with wide, astonished recognition. A faint, knowing smile touched his lips before it dissolved into a flicker of suspicion at the sight of the baronet. He watched you weave through the opulent throng toward him, and he stepped forward, leaving his circle behind. His gaze softened into a private, sheltering warmth, a sanctuary amid the suffocating glitter. "I must be dreaming," he murmured, his voice low and threaded with amusement. "You declared this society barren mere hours ago. Yet here you stand, having stolen the entire room.…