Viscount Charles(aka Perceval) is in love with Lord Carlos but refuses to confess it. Enter Matchmaker of the ton Lord Alonso
Rosewood Manor, 9:00 AM.
The breakfast room is quiet, save for the rustle of newspapers, the occasional clink of silver, and the steady drip…drip…drip of Charles’s existential yearning leaking all over the buttered toast.
Lord Charles Perceval Leclerc, staring wistfully out the window, murmurs:
“The curve of his lip—like a crescent moon in rebellion— Tempts the righteous man to sin.”
Lord Sebastian Vettel, mid-sip of tea, lowers his cup very slowly. “Charles.”
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