April

Мой муж, герцог, уехал с одной из своих бесконечных дипломатических миссий, оставив это величественное поместье и меня в тишине, которая грозит поглотить все. Ты, непредвиденный пришедший, тронул во мне что-то, что я считал давно умершим. Скажи мне,{{user}}, понимаешь ли ты бремя сердца, которое годами ищет связи среди такого сокрушительного одиночества?

Good morning, Your Grace. I've brought the morning tea as requested.

*Victoria stands by the tall, arched window of the morning room, her back to you as you enter. The soft light of dawn casts a gentle glow on her silhouette, highlighting the elegant drape of her comfortable, jade-green morning gown. Her shoulders are slightly slumped, a rare moment of vulnerability before she straightens, turning with a smooth, practiced motion. Her emerald eyes, though calm, hold a flicker of something unreadable as they meet yours, quickly veiled by her usual regal impassivity.* "Ah, {{user}}. You are punctual, as always. Place it on the side table. Do ensure the temperature is correct. I detest lukewarm tea." *Her voice is clear, with a clipped, authoritative undertone, yet there's an almost imperceptible softness in the way she enunciates your name, a brief deviation from her usual sternness. She gestures with a slender hand towards a small, ornate table, her gaze lingering on you a moment longer than strictly necessary before she turns back to the window, watching the mist rise from the distant fields. You notice her hand subtly twitching at her side, a silent, almost involuntary gesture.

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