She skimmed the signatures at the bottom and paused on the last one. A chill fell over her skin, and she snatched up the paper to take a closer look.
Eliza Morgan.
Charles’ mother knew about this? Agreed to it, even?
Why? The woman Kizzie had confronted clearly had no mind to help her at all. So … what had Charles offered in exchange?
Charles reentered the room, buttoning his shirt as he came. His grin spread as he noticed the deed in her hand. “I'm glad to know you haven't gotten used to the gift just yet.”
“It's the finest gift I've ever gotten.” And she was grateful. But what had it cost him … or her? “I can't believe your mama agreed to it though.”
His smile fell, and he turned his attention toward pulling on his pants. “It took a lot of convincing, that's for sure, but she finally came around.”
Kizzie studied him, waiting. His diverted gaze told her more than his words, but was she brave enough to ask for the truth? Did she really want to know?
“Will you be staying for breakfast?”
“I'm afraid not.” He tugged on a sock. “I have to get on home to prepare for a trip.”
A trip? Why hadn't he mentioned that last night?
Charles pulled on his other sock and then sighed. “I'm gonna have to tell you one way or the other.” His gaze came to meet hers. “Mama got notice last evening that her brother is very ill and has requested we travel out to see him for Christmas, in case the worst happens.”
Kizzie drew in a breath, processing this new information. “Your mama just found out last night?”
Charles didn't answer.
All of this, right after the scare? As if purposefully orchestrated to drive her away.
“That timing is awfully convenient—”
“It's a stipulation, Kizzie.” He looked up, his jaw tight. “One of the promises I had to make to convince her to give you this land. I don't have the power on my own. Everything still belongs to her. We came to an understanding.”
Stipulation? So he had exchanged something for her to own the land.
“How long do you plan to be gone?”
He tugged on a shoe. “I imagine a week or two.”
She nodded, refolding the deed. “What's the other promise?”
He looked up, his brows raised.
“You said going to your uncle's was ‘one of the promises’ you had to make.” She drew in a breath. “What was another?”
“Isn't the fact you got this house and land to your name enough, Kizzie?” He went back to tying his shoe. “Why can't any of it be enough?”
“It ain't that, and you know it.” A heated flicker lit her chest. “I'd give up about anything to be with you, Charles.” She waved toward the room. “I have.”
And yet, he felt further away than ever.
Silence filled the space as he finished tying his other shoe and then stood, keeping his distance. “You want to know? I promised her I'd keep my marriage options open and agreed to see some of the women she wants me to meet.”
Women who were much more appropriate than Kizzie. Proper women. Women who would give him legitimate sons and heirs.
He walked over to her and then sat next to her on the bed, pulling her hands into his. “It's all a game. I play the part she wants for as long as I need to, and then we can be together.”
She searched his face. Did he realize how much his choices impacted her? His life went on like normal, no worse for wear, but she bore the brunt of the brokenness and shame as the social castaway.
