Dear Rose,
Something urgent came up and thus, I was forced to travel. I do not intend to be away for very long, but I hope you remain comfortable in the meantime.
Jeffery Hendrix.
Chara read the missive for the umpteenth time that morning, before refolding it twice and placing it on the coffee table before her.
The note had been handed to her by Spencer. At first, she had been shocked to find the servant at her door after several days of failing to even glimpse him, but before she could say anything, he shoved the note into her hands and walked away.
Dumbfounded, she stared after him until he disappeared down the stairs, before closing the door behind her and slowly unfolding the piece of paper.
She read the note in silence. Simple words scribbled on a sheet of paper with every stroke of ink, an obvious proof of Jeffery's professional penmanship.
Words, not a dagger or a knife. But they felt just like that; a knife plunged into the deepest part of her heart and twisted, leaving her bleeding almost to death.
She knew she shouldn't read more meaning into his missive, but when it read 'something urgent came up and thus I was forced to travel,' she saw 'I must get away from you urgently for I can no longer stand to be around you.' And when it read 'I do not intend to be away for very long,' she saw 'I must stay away for the rest of our temporary marriage of convenience.'
It was for the best—she scolded, rising to her feet and stumbling to the window, where she pushed the curtains aside. They both needed to put some distance between them, if only so that she could regain some common sense and rid her heart of the foolish notion that they could one day end up together. Still, Jeffery was the only man who saw beyond her outward appearance; the only man who ever desired her in that way. She saw the way he looked at her, the passion in his eyes as he pulled her into his bed that evening. What was even worse was the fact that she heard his breathless whisper, right before he claimed her as his wife:
"You arouse the wildest passion in me, my dear." His words still reverberated in her ears every time, warming her skin with a longing she knew would never be satisfied again. She knew Jeffery would never take her in his arms again—she realized that the evening after, when he walked away from her at dinner. But the note on the coffee table before her seemed to put a final nail in the coffin of their marriage.
Reaching up, she shoved the tear that stubbornly fell down her cheek aside; there had never been a marriage in the first place. Not only did Jeffery intend for things to be temporary, he intended for things to be temporary between himself and Rose Cartridge, not Chara. She wasn't Rose, the daughter of a baron, she was Chara, the daughter of a dead merchant; she was a slave.
Closing the curtains, she leaned back against the windowpane and closed her eyes. Jeffery had intended for their marriage to last for a meager nine months, and she had been here for nearly three months. In a matter of time, she would be set free to take charge of her life. She would sail to a distant land and start all over again, she thought, even if she knew it would be difficult to forget Jeffery, or their evening of passion.
Releasing a shaky breath, she straightened and made her way down the stairs to the dining room. She ate her breakfast alone, barely tasting the meal. Once she was done, she turned to make her way back to her room, but when she reached the foot of the stairs, she decided against it; she was tired of being stuck in her bedchamber. Perhaps now that Jeffery was away, she could finally take a tour of the house?
Turning from the stairs, she made her way down a small hallway and stopped before a closed door. Jeffery's study. She had been here once, the day she walked in on a conversation with Jeffery and his father. She reached for the doorknob and twisted it; a frown claimed her face when she found it locked. She tried again, but the door didn't budge.
Leaning against the door, she remembered the evening with Lord Kensington, Jeffery's father. She hadn't seen him since the evening of the ball and, in that second, she desired to be in his presence again. Perhaps she could find out some things from him. Perhaps if they had a conversation, she would understand Jeffery a little more.
Shaking her head, Chara decided it wasn't her business. Still, she was curious and lonely. From Jeffery's note, she imagined he would stay away from the estate for much longer. She didn't think she could sit here alone, doing absolutely nothing while he was away. Perhaps it was the slave in her—the woman used to being busy and serving the needs of others while her own needs were left unattended—that could not sit still.
She summoned a maid, and after requesting that Lord Kensington be informed of her planned visit, requested that Spencer be the one to drive her to the Lord's estate.
An hour later, the maid returned with Lord Kensington's approval for her visit.
Chara was restless as the evening approached. She chose a formal green dress from Rose Cartridge's trunk. It didn't fit her well, but it wasn't as loose as it had been when she first arrived. She combed her hair and styled it behind her head, making certain that the bun kept her mark perfectly hidden.
Once she was fully dressed, she made her way out of the building.
Spencer watched her suspiciously as she approached. He offered his hand to help her into the carriage, but she shook her head.
"I shall ride in front."
He frowned. "It is best—"
"Do not argue with your mistress, Spencer," she said sharply, before turning from him and expertly climbing up the front of the carriage.
Spencer settled beside her a few seconds later, his gaze fixed straight ahead as he urged the horses forward.
"Perhaps you intend to ignore me until this is all over?" she said once they were a long distance away from the gates of the estate.
Spencer kept his gaze on the cobbled roads. "I am a servant, and you, my mistress. Nothing joins us."
"You need not pretend when we're alone; I'm nothing but a slave!" she said sharply, frustrated by his aloofness. It was his fault she was here; stuck in a marriage with a man she was almost certain she was in love with—a man who cared nothing for her. It almost felt like a punishment crueler than slavery.
He turned sharply to her, an angry frown creasing his face. "Do you not understand the severity of the situation, or shall I remind you that if any of these get out, we shall both be killed?" His words felt like cold water against her skin.
Swallowing, Chara turned her attention to the moving streets.
"You must forget who you are," he finally said, breaking the silence between them. "You died in that accident and Rose Cartridge lives."
She nodded, fighting her tears. "Stop the carriage! I wish to sit in the back and to return to the estate."
"And Lord Kensington?"
"Send my regrets," she said silently. She wasn't in the right frame of mind or mood to pay anyone a visit. She was foolish to have even embarked on this journey in the first place. A soft laugh drifted from her lips—she was a slave who sought the audience of a lord. It didn't matter how many times Spencer told her she was dead, Chara was reminded by the dull pounding of her heart against her ribcage as it longed for Jeffery, that she wasn't dead. She was very much alive, and so were her feelings for Jeffery Hendrix.
~*~
Lord Kensington visited the following afternoon unannounced.
Chara hurriedly changed out of her morning dress and into a suitable green visiting dress before making her way to the parlor, where Lord Kensington awaited her.
"Rose." He smiled, arms outstretched as she approached. She returned his smile and walked into his embrace. He kissed both her cheeks. "It has been an agonizing few days without the sight of you."
She giggled, truly flattered by his words. "Indeed, I can say the same about you, my lord. Forgive me; I was simply unable to come last evening."
He nodded. "And forgive my rudeness for showing up unannounced. Come, sit with me." He led her to the couch and settled beside her.
"Perhaps I must have some tea brought in?"
He shook his head. "I had lunch before coming. Where is Jeffery?"
Reminded of Jeffery's desertion, she glanced down at her hands. "He is away on business, my lord."
He clucked his tongue. "I can only imagine how riddled you are by boredom. My son, as anti-social and boring as he is, sought to keep a vibrant young lady like you, alone and away from the rest of the world. Well, I shall not stand for it. You know what? If you are not busy tomorrow evening, then I must request that you escort me to Lord Williamson's ball."
"I—" She hesitated, for his invitation came as a surprise.
Chara knew how Jeffery felt about his father and immediately knew she should decline his offer. Still, she didn't want to. The older gentleman had requested her presence because he cared about her and wanted to spend time with her, unlike his son, she thought bitterly.
She nodded. "I will be delighted, my lord."