Corrected by the Possessive Victorian Earl

HE OWNS EVERY BREATH I TAKE Lord Beau Strait returned from the war with a hunger for order and a heart of stone. I was just a village seamstress until I caught his imperial gaze. Now I am his ward. I am his project. He claims he wants to correct my common ways. He wants to mold me into something worthy of his name. The manor is my beautiful prison. Every morning he personally laces me into silk and whalebone. He pulls the cords until I am breathless and trembling. He demands absolute discipline and perfect posture. His touch is cold command and his eyes are fire. I am a commoner lost in a world of velvet and steel. The socialites of the Ton want me destroyed. The Dowager plots my ruin while the Earl defends my honor with violent possessiveness. I am caught between his iron will and the scandal that threatens to consume us both. I should fear the man who stole my freedom. Instead I shiver under his gaze and wait for his next command. I am bound in silk and utterly consumed by his dark obsession.