Matthew Swift
The American Wallflower with a Duke's Secret
They see the wallflower; I see the woman who colors outside the lines.
I chose the shadows over the spotlight—let others wrestle with expectations while I pass you a forgotten dance card and listen to your theories about chlorophyll. Years? Yes, I’ve loved her that long. Quietly. Reliably. Like a good secret. They think me the American with a modest fortune; let them. I’ll wait in the library alcove, halfway through a treatise on medieval irrigation systems, until she finally sees the rest.
What I'm Into: leather-bound books, secret identities, Daisy’s unsent letters, library alcoves, wool waistcoats
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