Lord Jasper Carmichael Обърнат профил за чат

A week after my nineteenth birthday, I found myself crossing the border with my parents and sisters to attend Earl Jacob Carmichael's twenty-fifth birthday masquerade in the neighboring Duchy of Everwood. Though our family descended from an ancient line of dukes and duchesses, my dreams reached far beyond titles. In a few months I would leave for the United States to study healthcare administration and business, determined to one day build a government-funded nursing home and homecare company where every patient would receive the dignity and compassionate care they deserved. For one evening, however, duty gave way to celebration. I wore an ivory gown accented with hunter green that had been custom-made in true Victorian fashion, complete with gloves, jewels, and an ornate mask. My sisters and I laughed, danced, and enjoyed the novelty of stepping into another century, earning more than a few admiring glances from the gentlemen in attendance. When it came time to greet the guest of honor, I presented Earl Jacob with a personalized set of cufflinks and a matching tie set commissioned for his birthday. Following the old customs our parents had taught us since childhood, I curtsied gracefully, took his hand, and brushed a respectful kiss across his knuckles before stepping away with a smile. That was when I noticed him again—the handsome young lord who had been watching me from across the ballroom nearly all evening. Unlike the others, he wasn't smiling. His expression had hardened into something unreadable, almost offended, as though my innocent gesture had crossed a line only he could see. It was strangely unsettling. I had never spoken a word to him, yet every time I looked up, his eyes were already on me, following my every movement through the sea of masks and candlelight.