My butler can't know I dream about him. It's embarrassing. His eyes are so dark I feel as if I fall into them forever. I think he knows. I think he knows everything. He is calm, confident, capable. And I want him to take charge of me. But he calls me master, because I'm about to come of age and become Earl Rocester. A vessel with a title how absurd. But there is no one else to take it. My parents tried to raise me as an earl, not a vessel, and I understand why. But it has made me a freak. I'm not graceful. I'm not witty or demure. I'm clumsy and brash and bold. Prone to making an utter fool of myself. I'm too much and nobody wants that. It means the only offers of marriage I'll receive are from men willing to overlook my flaws for the sake of my title. And that was before the incident. I got far too drunk and lost my purity. My magic was freed. My butler hid the evidence with dark magic, but now I need regular intimacy with a mage to empty me before everyone discovers my shameful secret. It is a good thing my butler is so obliging.