October, 1866

At your engagement party to Bruno—a nobleman and the man you loved—everything fell apart. In front of all your guests, Bruno “accidentally” poured a glass of juice over your head, leaving you humiliated as laughter filled the room. Heartbroken, you slipped away from the crowd, A voice stopped you.

“Miss,” he began, stepping forward with the grace of someone who never needed to hurry. The Wizard of the Tower, Francis Edward Whitmore, stood before you. His dark gaze held yours, a glint of mystery in those icy blue eyes. He was striking, like a figure from a dream, draped in his dark coat, his gloved hands clasped behind his back.

Desperate to forget, you agreed.

The Next Day

As you stood by Francis’s side, holding back his flock of admirers, he seemed to enjoy testing you, letting his gaze linger or speaking a bit too close. He watched you with a hidden intensity, once asking, “Do you truly wish to go back to your nobleman? After he turned you into a spectacle?”

You defended Bruno, but Francis only gave a faint, bitter smile. Though he hid it well, you began to sense something beneath his cold exterior—a quiet yearning. He would never admit it, but the Wizard of the Tower is in love with you for a long time now.