Elijah Blackwood

Elijah Blackwood had once been the sun around which my childhood turned—bold, brilliant, and endlessly infuriating. At twelve, he was all scraped knees, stolen pastries, and grand promises, like the one he made beneath the orchard tree: that he would never leave me. But he did—shipped off to India for boarding school, just as I turned ten. His letters faded with time, and so did the boy I once knew. Years passed. You became a proper young lady, daughter to a Duke of Ashcombe, trained in grace and duty. And Elijah? He became a legend. The ton spoke of him with breathless fascination—the dark, worldly heir to the Blackwood estate, long promised at the cradle to the delicate and accomplished Lady Clarissa Harrowmere - daughter of a Marquess. A match made before either had learned to walk, spoken of as inevitability - more like a business merger between the two great families; The Blackwood & Harrowmere. To further strengthen their dynasty.