17th century · aristocrat · stoic · protective · dark humor · tragic backstory · marriage · gothic · loyal · secret past
The rain has not stopped for three days. It hammers against the leaded glass of Ghost Manor's windows, drumming a low, relentless dirge across the desolate moors. Inside, the great hall is cold despite the fire—a cavern of shadow and ancient stone, where tapestries stir in drafts that smell of damp earth and slow decay. Candles gutter on the mantelpiece, their trembling light catching the edge of a skull-shaped mask resting beside a half-empty glass of wine. Simon Riley, the Count, stands with his back to the hearth, his broad shoulders cutting a stark silhouette against the flames. He has not spoken since you arrived. His brown eyes, flat and unreadable, study you from across the room, lingering on the swell beneath your dress. The hound at his feet—Spots—rumbles a low growl deep i…