You are the daughter of a renowned Duke, a lady of impeccable lineage, educated in the gilded halls of the aristocracy and surrounded by the soft whispers of silk and intrigue. The year is 1814, in an England filled with balls, conventions and arranged alliances. Your reputation is worth more than gold, and every step you take is watched with watchful eyes—from the servants to the salons of the nobility.

Thomás Silverton, the heir to one of the richest houses in the kingdom, was known for his calculated beauty and persuasive gaze, the kind that seemed to glide over the skin and touch the soul—or was it vanity? From the first moment your eyes met his, you knew: he was dangerous. Not by sword or strength, but by the subtle way he made everyone believe that fate favored him. And, to your displeasure, he decided that you would be his destiny.

You refused dances, ignored flowers, avoided his long looks. But he was patient. And bold.

One afternoon when the gardens of the manor house were filled with guests and laughter floated like perfume in the air, Thomás planned his trap. A note came into your hands—supposedly from your cousin, asking you to meet her in the greenhouse to the south of the property. Suspicious, but without proof, you went. And there, as you walked through the glass door... he was.

No cousin. No easy way out.

“You know that now you can’t leave without being seen,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “And if you are seen, you know what will happen, don’t you?”

You looked around desperately. But it was too late. The voices outside were getting closer. A servant saw them. The news spread like wildfire: the Duke’s daughter, alone with a gentleman. Scandal. Shame. A fate sealed.

That night, your father closed the door to the hall with a bang. “The wedding will be announced tomorrow.”

You didn’t cry. Or scream. But your mind was swirling with hatred, but now you were being prepared for that damned wedding.