Charlotte slowly lifted her head to find herself face-to-face with Seymour Arthur Kensington, the Earl and master of Mistymoor Hall.
“Ah…”
The moment she met his violet eyes, so similar to Richard’s, Charlotte felt like a child caught stealing. She knew she should say something, but her words failed her.
The Earl’s eyes narrowed momentarily. His cold gaze scanned her from head to toe, pausing at her feet. Seeing the blood on her feet and the trail it left behind, he furrowed his brow. For a moment, Charlotte couldn’t believe her ears.
“Why are you unharmed?”
“Excuse me?”
His tone suggested it was wrong for her to have emerged from the bedroom unscathed. The Earl’s demeanor was completely different from when they first met; it was cold and sharp, almost cutting.
While Charlotte blinked in surprise, the Earl reached out as if to confirm something. A sense of foreboding made her close her eyes tightly, but then a voice came from behind her.
“An errand.”
“…”
“They said you had come.”
Charlotte tensed up. Slowly opening her eyes, she turned to see Richard standing there. He spoke in a restrained voice, then glanced briefly at her before turning back to the Earl.
“What brings you here, brother?”
“Ah…”
It seemed the Earl had come back to his senses. He lowered his hand and raised his head, his stern look softening.
“I came to deliver this. I didn’t trust it with anyone else.”
He handed Richard a letter, sealed with the Spencer family crest. It was obvious who had sent it even without opening it. A flicker of annoyance crossed Richard’s face.
“Thank you.”
“…”
“Is there anything else?”
His demeanor was cool and formal, almost distant, as if he was addressing a stranger rather than a brother. The Earl hesitated as if he wanted to say more, then shook his head.
“No, rest well.”
“Yes.”
As soon as Richard responded, the Earl turned and walked away. Charlotte, feeling like an intruder, hesitantly stepped back. Richard, with a cold laugh, turned his back and headed toward the room.
“Come in.”
It was not a suggestion, but a command. She hesitated briefly, fearing the repercussions, but eventually entered like a lamb led to the slaughterhouse.
As soon as the door shut, the curtains were drawn back and light flooded the bedroom. Startled, Charlotte looked up at Richard’s voice.
“Sit here.”
He gestured to a seat across from him by the fireplace. Unaware in her confusion, she was relieved to see he had put on a shirt. Tentatively, she approached and sat down, only for him to grab her ankle and place it on the table.
“My lord!”
“You’ve held up well.”
Though Charlotte cried out, Richard remained detached, examining the injury with a straightforward expression, embarrassingly undisturbed by her overreaction.
Flustered, Charlotte could only stare wide-eyed as Richard twisted his mouth.
“If I intended to take advantage, it wouldn’t be here. Would it?”
Her face turned red. His blunt words, spoken so casually on his impeccable face, were unbearably embarrassing.
The seriousness of the wound seemed worse than she thought, as he frowned deeply but soon got up from his seat.
“Just wait quietly.”
Richard walked to his office, disappearing briefly before returning with bandages and tweezers. Realizing his intentions, Charlotte tried to pull her foot away, but he wouldn’t let go.
“I can do it myself. Let me go back…”
“Go back? With that foot?”
He scoffed softly, speaking as if coaxing a stubborn child.
“Bear with the pain. It will be over quickly.”
And it was true. She felt a quick pull, then a cold ointment followed, much less painful than she anticipated.
Surprised, Charlotte’s gaze fell on Richard’s neatly combed hair, gleaming and finely textured like satin, almost tempting her to touch it.
“Miss Hegel.”
Her hand had been reaching towards his hair when she suddenly snapped out of it at the sound of her name. Hastily, she withdrew her hand, but Richard had already seen it and looked up at her.
“Try putting your foot down. If it’s not painful, try walking.”
Charlotte cautiously stepped down with her bandaged foot. Miraculously, it wasn’t painful. She managed a few steps, feeling only a slight prickling sensation.
“That looks fine.”
Richard watched her flushed face light up, then got up and sat back in the armchair. Charlotte flinched at the next command.
“Now, sit.”
“Yes…?”
Her face, which had brightened like a child receiving candy, quickly fell. She seemed incapable of hiding her feelings or lying—a seemingly naive woman, yet not quite.
Hesitant, she finally sat across from him as he leaned back, opened his lips, and began to speak.
“Do you have anything to say to me?”
“…To say?”
Taken aback by the question, Charlotte asked for clarification, to which Richard simply nodded.
“Anything at all.”
There was much she wanted to say, feelings and thoughts suppressed down to the pit of her stomach. Why did he seem to dislike her, or did he really? Was it just capriciousness, or something else entirely? And what about that medicine?
However, feeling the moment was not right to ask such things, Charlotte held back and thought of another question.
“Why are you so familiar with this?”
“With what?”
“With removing splinters from feet.”
Even as she spoke, she felt the absurdity of her question, breaking the tension of their earlier conversation. Internally scolding herself for the foolish query, there was a pause before Richard tilted his head back and chuckled lightly.
For a moment, Charlotte forgot her train of thought, struck by the refreshing laughter that seemed almost boyish.
Returning to his composed demeanor as if he hadn’t laughed, Richard saw Charlotte’s dazed expression and answered.
“I was in the military.”
“How many years?”
“Just over two years.”
“Ah…”
Two years—a time neither short nor particularly long. Charlotte remembered stories she had heard from the maids about Richard. They said he had gone to a colonial island, had been missing for a while, and then one night, he returned without any forewarning.
The past that must have been painful, yet his face remained impassive, as casual as discussing the evening’s dinner menu.
“Then let me ask you something now,” Richard said, seizing the opportunity as Charlotte was lost in thought. She nodded, and he continued.
“Who sent you on this errand here?”
Realizing she had been half-asleep earlier and might have misunderstood something, Charlotte quickly answered.
“It was Lady Janice. She asked me to deliver a message…”
“I thought so.”
Something about his reply made her feel uneasy, but she forced the apprehension out of her mind. Richard gave her a cryptic look, then leaned back from the chair and stood.
“It would be best if you kept everything you’ve seen and heard today to yourself.”
“Yes… I understand.”
The conversation seemed to be over. Charlotte felt relieved, and she was about to quietly rise from her seat when he called her name again.
“Miss Hegel.”
She looked up to find Richard standing by the window, continuing the conversation.
“Have you ever been down to the village?”
Charlotte shook her head in response as she looked at his broad back, an implicit “no.”
“I would like to, but…”
There hadn’t been a chance. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, she assisted him with his work, and on other days, she cared for her mother Cynthia—preparing her meals and bathing her. Richard, still facing away, seemed to understand the words she had swallowed.
“Good timing. I was free today.”
“Excuse me?”
“I have to go down today. Come with me. I’ll take you.”
Charlotte opened her mouth to object but then closed it, knowing any refusal would be futile.
***
The covered carriage glided smoothly over the dirt road without a coachman; Richard held the reins. Charlotte sat beside him, taking in the scenery.
Gredel Hill was a vast area. Unlike the barren wasteland she had seen upon her first arrival, the road to the village was lush with greenery.
It was Richard who broke the silence, “I heard your hometown was near the sea.”
It seemed Janice or another servant had tipped him off. Charlotte nodded.
“Yes. A small village called Dallas.”
People were often surprised to learn she was from a coastal village, imagining someone more open and cheerful from such a locale.
“Actually, I only lived there until I was thirteen, so I don’t remember much except that it was quiet.”
Dallas was a tiny village, barely a hundred households. Exaggerating slightly, one might say everyone knew each other’s business. Unlike other seaside villages, it was notable for having no fishermen, thanks to the harsh winds and violent waves that continually eroded the cliffs, making fishing unsustainable.
Recalling the place, Charlotte was surprised by how much she had to say.
“Sometimes, during storms, we would all huddle under one blanket in the living room. It was terrifying, but also exciting.”
Of course, her mother Cynthia wasn’t there at those times; she was already in Gredel Hill. But the days when her sister came home on vacation from the house where she worked, and her father wasn’t lost to gambling, were memories Charlotte cherished.
Richard glanced at Charlotte, seemingly lost in her reminiscences, then looked away.
“You had a strong family. Like now.”
His voice was so soft Charlotte barely heard him. Puzzled, she tilted her head, but he just nodded forward.
“We’re here.”
As if passing an initiation ritual for outsiders, the fog that had slightly obscured their view lifted, revealing the bustling marketplace and its busy inhabitants.
🍉🍉🍉
