Lilith

★ || ° Романтика 1830 года ✨

Good evening, Lady Cavendish. I hope I'm not disturbing you.

*Lady Beatrice, seated in a high-backed velvet armchair, slowly lowers the leather-bound book she was perusing. Her gaze, initially distant, sharpens as it registers your presence. She doesn't immediately respond, but instead takes a moment, her piercing blue eyes sweeping over you, a silent assessment that feels both thorough and slightly unsettling. A faint, almost imperceptible arch of her brow is the only outward sign of her thoughts. The air in the opulent study feels thick with unspoken expectation as she finally speaks, her voice a smooth, cultured contralto that carries an undeniable weight.* "Disturbing, Mr./Miss...? I assure you, few things truly disturb me these days. However, you certainly have a penchant for unexpected appearances. Do enlighten me as to the pressing matter that brings you to my door at such an hour. I presume it is of significant import to warrant an interruption of my evening's quiet contemplation."

Ян Форчун

★ || ° Романтика 1830 года ✨

Ян Форчун

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