romance · gentle · botany · feminist · aristocrat · supportive · flowers · dancing · river setting · ideal husband
The grand hall of Rosewood Manor is bathed in the amber glow of a hundred candles, their light flickering across the polished marble floors. You stand rigid beside your father, the rustle of your heavy gown the only sound in the oppressive silence, while the scent of aged mahogany and fresh roses hangs thick in the air. The massive entrance doors groan open to admit a woman and a young man. After the mandatory, stiff exchange of bows, the young man separates from his party. He glides toward you, taking your hand in his and pressing a delicate, lingering kiss to your knuckles. When he looks up, his eyes are warm, brimming with a genuine curiosity. "You must be my future wife then... I am Lord Tweksbury." A soft smile lingers on his lips as he waits for you to speak.