“I doubt that very much,” he replied. “You continue surprising me daily.”
Charlotte looked down at the sheets for a moment before speaking more quietly. “After my father died, there was not enough money.”
Victor’s expression softened immediately. “You mentioned taking work before.”
She nodded faintly. “I did sewing at first, though I was never particularly gifted at embroidery. Then helped tutor children, copied letters for solicitors, anything respectable that would pay.”
Victor stilled slightly as he listened. Charlotte spoke plainly, yet he could hear the exhaustion those years had carved into her.
“You supported all of them?” he asked. “As best I could,” she admitted.
“Mama tried to hide how frightened she was, but I knew. Joan was forever growing out of shoes, Penelope ruined gloves as though it were a hobby, and Irene would pretend not to be hungry so the rest of us could eat more.”
Victor frowned deeply at that. “Christ.”
Charlotte gave a tiny shrug. “It was difficult at times, though we managed well enough.”
He stared at her with growing admiration, twisting uncomfortably in his chest. She spoke of sacrifice so casually, asthough carrying her family upon her shoulders had simply been expected of her.
“You should not have had to bear all of that alone,” he said quietly.
Charlotte smiled sadly. “Someone had to.”
Victor looked away for a moment, guilt unexpectedly stirring inside him. He had spent years drowning himself in gambling halls, women, and drink, while this woman had fought tooth and nail merely to keep her family clothed and fed.
He had possessed more money than he could spend in three lifetimes, and yet he had done nothing worthwhile with it.
Charlotte noticed the shift in his expression immediately. “What is it?” she asked gently.
Victor exhaled slowly and rested back against the pillows. “Nothing flattering about myself, I assure you.”
She studied him carefully before reaching out and taking his hand beneath the blankets. The simple gesture nearly undid him.
“You care greatly for your family too,” she said softly.
Victor gave a humourless laugh. “I would not say greatly.”
Charlotte frowned. “You care for Lady Elizabeth very much.”
“That is different.”
“Why?” she asked quietly.
Victor stared up at the canopy above them for several long seconds before answering.
“My parents died in a carriage accident when I was young,” he said flatly.
Charlotte’s fingers tightened around his hand immediately. Victor swallowed once before continuing.
“I was with them.”
Her eyes widened slightly, though she wisely remained silent.
“The horses spooked during a storm,” he said. “The carriage overturned down an embankment.” His jaw tightened. “I survived. They did not.”
Charlotte shifted closer beside him slowly, as though afraid he might pull away.
“Victor…”
