Is he thinking of me at all? Or has he returned to his wicked ways?
* * *
Victor stood in the doorway of Charlotte’s bedchamber and stared at the untouched room with growing irritation. The curtains had been drawn open by the maids that morning, allowing pale sunlight to spill across the neatly made bed and embroidered cushions she favoured. Her faint lavender scent still lingered in the air, soft and maddening all at once. He could not comprehend how one woman’s absence had managed to infect the entire house.
He stepped further inside despite himself. Her shawl still rested carelessly over the chair beside the hearth, and one of her books remained abandoned upon the side table as though she might return at any moment. Victor picked it up absently before setting it down again with a sharp exhale. The silence in the chamber unnerved him more than he cared to admit.
“This is absurd,” he muttered aloud.
Yet he remained there another full minute.
Victor rubbed a hand over his jaw and looked toward the empty bed once more. Only several nights ago Charlotte had lain tangled in his arms, flushed and smiling sleepily at him while speaking about utterly ordinary things. Now the house felt cold despite the warm morning outside. He disliked how aware he had become of every place she was not.
A knock sounded softly at the partially open door. Victor turned to find his grandmother standing there with Hannah hovering protectively behind her. Elizabeth studied him with far too much knowing in her gaze for his comfort.
“There you are,” she said gently. “I had wondered where you vanished to.”
Victor straightened immediately. “I was merely looking for… a document.” Elizabeth’s brows lifted in clear disbelief. “In Charlotte’s room?”
Hannah quietly excused herself and disappeared down the corridor with impressive speed. Victor almost envied her escape. Elizabeth stepped slowly into the chamber and smiled sadly at the untouched bed.
“The house feels quieter without her,” she said.
Victor looked away stiffly. “It is only for a few days.”
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. “And yet you look as though someone has died.”
Victor stiffened hard at the words.
His grandmother immediately regretted it. “Oh darling, I did not mean.”
“It is fine,” Victor interrupted quietly.
Elizabeth moved closer and rested a fragile hand upon his arm. “You love her very much.” Victor nearly laughed at the simplicity with which she said it. “There is no shame in that.”
Love.
The word twisted unpleasantly in his chest.
Victor looked toward the window before speaking again. “Attachment only leads to grief.” Victor swallowed tightly. “And then what remains?”
“Oh, Victor.” She squeezed his arm carefully. “That is not a reason to avoid loving people,” Victor said nothing. “Loss hurts because love existed in the first place.”
He turned away sharply before she could see too much in his face. How long before Elizabeth was gone too? How long before the manor became empty once more and silence swallowedhim whole again? He had survived his parents’ deaths only by hardening himself against everyone else afterward.
Charlotte has somehow undone years of that work without even trying.
Victor suddenly felt trapped inside the room. “I am going into town,” he announced abruptly.
Elizabeth sighed knowingly behind him.
“I have business to attend.”
She patted his arm again. “Of course you do.”
As he strode downstairs moments later, he already hated himself for the guilt clawing at his chest. His grandmother was trying so hard to make him happy. Charlotte was trying too. Yet every step closer to loving them felt like stepping toward disaster.
Mr. Baxter met him in the foyer. “Shall I have your horse prepared, Your Grace?”
