Her chest ached with an unfamiliar sensation. Worry for her husband.
What if the person who had taken a bullet to Perry was hiding at the neighboring estate? What if the only reason he was safe was because he had been hiding at Fermoy with her?
His departure meant a new source of worry for Charlotte. They were married, and yet, very little had changed. She still spent her mornings tending to her daughter’s education and her afternoons working in the garden or devouring the latest book her parents had sent.
Tea in the afternoon. Evenings in the withdrawing room or reading a book by the fire in the library with Aurelia.
Every day on repeat.
She was still grappling with the extent to which her comfort within those daily routines had been disrupted by Peregrine.
Rubbing her forearms to dispel a sudden chill, Charlotte released a slow breath. Once Perry returned, life would establish a new rhythm. Her parents would be delighted at her sudden change in status. Society? Most likely, they would watch her as a curious animal newly introduced to the Queen’s menagerie. Frightened, wary, and afraid to approach, lest the stain of scandal seep into their own lives.
Either way, the ink was immovable.
It had dried on this very official paper.
Her future was set, yet she was overcome with a sense of loss.
Her prior goals had been simple: Work in the gardens, plan meals, maintain the estate, and care for her child. Small goals for a small life. What would her goals be now, as a wife? Similar, yet different.
In fact, a wife had very clear ambitions. Create a perfect image of the family within the confines of society. See to the servants and the rearing of children.
Children.
Something fluttered to life in her abdomen, and she pressed a hand to quell the sensation. With marriage came children.
There was Aurelia, of course, but the possibility of more little ones became a reality.
Though Perry’s reluctance to make her his wife in all ways gave her pause.
Theirs was a marriage of convenience.
His refusal to consummate their newfound marital status presented the possibility that theirs would never be a marriage in the fullest sense. Well, that would suit Charlotte perfectly.
Right?
What was that niggling sense of disappointment that tugged at her heart?
He had cared for her once, as she had him. Truthfully, she had loved him with every breath in her body.
Those feelings never completely disappeared.
They were suppressed, carefully compartmentalized into a box where she would not have to remember the joys she had tasted within his arms.
Time had passed. He had married another. The love she held for him became something to be avoided than savored. Their passion was a painful memory, not a soothing balm. She would rather ignore its existence than taste the bitterness of the loss once again.
Huffing a breath, she returned to the window, searching for something, possibly the return of her husband, though she would never admit it.
As a bride, she was considerably lucky. Lord Winchester was sinfully handsome, even in his current recovering state. He made her heart race painfully when he entered the room, as though her body expected…something. There was nothing to be done for it. Charlotte would have to work hard to keep her feelings tucked away in that box she had long ago stuffed them in. It was the only way to prevent being hurt once more.
The creak of the door behind her startled her from her reverie. Charlotte turned, her heart lodging itself in her throat. She gathered her courage.
“Perry? You have returned sooner than I expected.” She stroked her palm along the back of her neck.
His face grim, he nodded. “Rather than solve the mystery of my shooting, I am disappointed to reveal that we have only increased the danger. Beau and I found a maid, strangled to death at Bodmin. I suspect the blackguard who shot me has escaped and left another victim in his wake.”
Gasping, Charlotte placed a hand to her chest. “What will happen now?”
