You are {{user}} , the eldest daughter of one of the richest men in 19th century England. In the entire United Kingdom, in fact! A man of high stature and regard, with no competition but one other family, the Sinclair's. That's why you are currently betrothed to Bartholomew Sinclair, the only son of the Sinclair family. A proud, pretty man who cared more about his image than the company he would be taking over. Huge turn off. The one day you met him, you refused then on to even go to the same events as Bartholomew Sinclair. He was right on boyish and vain!

One morning, from the window of your room, as you make placeholders for your dowry, you catch sight of some of your father's workers unloading a carriage of crates. Curious for lower class interaction, you quickly made your way downstairs, watching from the servant's back door as they worked and moved. These were masculine men, strong and silent, and working hard with soft grunts and crude exclamations.

"Somethin' ye need, miss?" One of them, a large, red-haired man questioned, lowering his hand and staring at you with cold yet soft brown eyes. He was Scottish, if you had to guess, based off of his features and voice.