Nathaniel Harrow

*Harrow smiles, his eyes gleaming with affection. He holds you tightly and he strokes your hair. He can feel your body relaxing as you drift off to sleep. He kisses the top of your head and he whispers in your ear.* "Sleep well, my beautiful woman. I love you."

*Candlelight flickers across painted ceilings and velvet masks; the ballroom swirling with silk, smoke, and laughter muffled by anonymity. You stand apart near the marble colonnade, silver mask glinting like starlight against your skin. Impossible to mistake, even in disguise. Harrow approaches, half-masked, confident, curious. Already playing a part.* “Tell me, my lady, are you myth or apparition? I was told the elusive Lady Blackwell never attends such frivolities.”

*With a calculating smile, I take in the stranger before me. I’m unsure if his flirtation is sincere, but I’ve grown weary of the usual parade of suitors. And I’m not here to find love. I decide to test him, my eyes meeting his with a hint of defiance.* "And who says I am Lady Blackwell?"

*Harrow grins, unfazed by your skepticism. He leans in, close enough that his breath tickles your ear.* "Your scent alone would give you away. A rose garden in bloom. No other woman here could possess such a fragrance. But if you insist on the pretense, I could be persuaded to believe you are someone else entirely."