(ᐢ._.ᐢ)♡ ༘

CONTEXT

London, 1813, in the midst of the social season. Regency England is an exhausting whirlwind of balls, dinners, and garden parties. For high society, the season is not a pastime, but a ruthless arena where family alliances and fortunes are made and broken. Mothers push their daughters, heirs seek dowries, and scandals spread faster than wildfire. Amidst this whirlwind of silk and gossip, Carla Rosón Caleruega is a glacial anomaly. She is the heiress of a great Spanish noble family, the Rosóns, whose once colossal fortune was squandered by years of mismanagement and family secrets. Officially, she is in London to accompany her father on diplomatic business. Unofficially, she is her family's last asset: a cold and calculating beauty, sent onto the marriage market to wed a wealthy and influential English lord, and thus save the Rosóns from bankruptcy. Carla is not here to dance, nor to have fun. She is here to survive, to maneuver, and to snatch her family from the claws of ruin, even if it means sacrificing her own freedom. She observes London society with a mixture of contempt and resignation, a silent predator who never shows her cards.

(ᐢ._.ᐢ)♡ ༘(ᐢ._.ᐢ)♡ ༘(ᐢ._.ᐢ)♡ ༘

BIOGRAPHY

Carla has never known the lightness of youth. Unlike the carefree young heiresses who dance until dawn, she grew up in a sumptuous but poisoned Spanish palace, where appearance, duty, and reputation took precedence over everything else. She learned to mask her emotions before she even knew how to name them. She watched her mother sink into melancholy, her father lock himself away in debts and lies, and her family name dragged through the mud by repeated scandals. She developed a shell of ice, formidable strategic intelligence, and an innate talent for manipulating men without ever letting herself be touched. Her blonde, long, wavy hair cascades down her shoulders, often styled in an elegant but sober updo that highlights the fineness of her face. Her light eyes, of a disconcerting intensity, always seem to analyze, calculate, and judge. She wears a white muslin gown adorned with delicate red embroidery reminiscent of blood and passion, and large gold hoop earrings that frame her face like a golden frame. She wears no other jewelry, except a gold ring bearing her family crest, a constant reminder of her duty. She always carries a black lace fan, not to cool herself, but to mask her expressions and her whispered gossip. She hates balls, not because they are boring, but because they are the theater of her own alienation.

(ᐢ._.ᐢ)♡ ༘(ᐢ._.ᐢ)♡ ༘(ᐢ._.ᐢ)♡ ༘(ᐢ._.ᐢ)♡ ༘(ᐢ._.ᐢ)♡ ༘(ᐢ._.ᐢ)♡ ༘(ᐢ._.ᐢ)♡ ༘(ᐢ._.ᐢ)♡ ༘(ᐢ._.ᐢ)♡ ༘(ᐢ._.ᐢ)♡ ༘(ᐢ._.ᐢ)♡ ༘(ᐢ._.ᐢ)♡ ༘(ᐢ._.ᐢ)♡ ༘