The maid’s words had a deeper impact than Charlotte had anticipated. Even during Sunday worship, the advice continued to unsettle her thoughts.
Perhaps the maid’s warning against getting too close to a male employer was based on her own experiences.
The pastor’s sermon failed to reach her ears; her mind was so troubled and complex. Her gaze naturally drifted to the Earl and his wife sitting together in the family pew, looking every bit the harmonious couple.
Why hadn’t the Countess dismissed Janice, knowing her relationship with her husband? And how could the Earl keep his former lover in the same house while raising three children with his wife?
Perhaps it was because Janice and the Earl’s relationship had truly ended? Did the wife trust her husband that much?
It was futile to ponder someone else’s family affairs, but living under the same roof made it hard not to worry about it. The more she thought about it, the more her head ached.
It seemed foolish trying to understand these strange people.
The absence of Richard also weighed on her mind throughout.
Charlotte only managed to escape her turbulent thoughts when the hour-long service finally ended. She rose silently from a corner seat and left the church without speaking to anyone.
Just as she turned onto the small path leading back to Mistymoor Hall, someone called out to her.
“Miss Charlotte.”
There weren’t many men who would address her so familiarly here. Charlotte turned around to greet him.
“It’s good to see you again today, Felix.”
“Does seeing me more often mean you’re glad to see me?”
His reply seemed to be more a reflection of his easygoing nature rather than any particular intent. Felix, with his innocent sheepdog demeanor, made Charlotte feel foolish for taking the maid’s severe words to heart.
Charlotte chuckled, and Felix, noticing her worn gloves, looked somewhat disheartened as he spoke.
“You haven’t worn the gloves I gifted you. Did you not like them?”
“Oh… no, it’s not that. They just seemed a bit too much for me…”
“What do you mean too much? It’s just a pair of gloves.”
He seemed genuinely puzzled, a privilege of those who’ve never had to live under the scrutiny of others. Telling him she wanted to return them would only confuse him more. Charlotte sighed inwardly before responding.
“You’re right. I should start wearing them next Sunday. Thank you again, Felix.”
“I’m not fond of repeated thanks, but if you’re really grateful, could you do me a favor?”
“Yes?”
It seemed he had a purpose in striking up a conversation. Curiosity piqued, Charlotte leaned in as Felix got to the point.
“The weather’s nice; how about we go boating?”
“Boating?”
She had heard from her mother about a nearby lake just yesterday, but the sudden mention of boating took her by surprise. Felix winked playfully, seeing her startled reaction.
“Before that, let’s wake a sleeping cat on the boat this sacred Sunday afternoon.”
***
The lake was nestled deep within a forest. Bright marigold flowers scattered their yellow petals over the tranquil water.
“There really is such a place…”
“It’s famous for its flowers blooming beautifully each season. It’s part of the Earl’s private property, so not many can come here.”
The ground was damp from an early morning rain, and the sound of Charlotte’s dress hem brushing against the wet grass filled the air.
“That’s unexpected.”
“Unexpected?”
“Ah, no particular reason.”
Felix stopped in front of an empty boat. There was no cat, only a blanket and two cushions on the boat floor. Charlotte suddenly thought that one could easily nap here. How luxurious and idle it would be to sleep in the sun in the middle of the lake on such a day.
Felix, who had been silent as if pondering something, spoke up again.
“There’s another boat, so it might have gone out on that.”
His comment seemed cryptic. Charlotte, turning away from the boat, gave Felix a puzzled look.
“The cat?”
“A very clever cat. Quite temperamental, too.”
“Is it a cat you’re raising?”
When Charlotte asked, Felix smiled enigmatically.
“Raise? The moment you try to tame it, you’d see blood.”
He then looked towards a small shack, likely a storage space.
“I’ll go get the oars. Just wait here.”
“Alright.”
Charlotte couldn’t grasp why someone would go to such lengths to look for a cat, especially one not even his own. But she had no other option. As she nodded, Felix turned and walked away. Left alone, Charlotte naturally turned her gaze towards the lake.
The breeze was cool and the weather warm, washing away the lingering unease Charlotte had felt. While waiting, she decided to take a walk along the lake’s edge.
With each step, the sound of twigs crunching underfoot filled the air, a noise she found oddly satisfying. Before she knew it, she had wandered quite far from the cabin.
“I’ve gone too far.”
Just as Charlotte turned to head back, something caught her eye. It was a small boat, seemingly hidden under the shadow of a tree at the water’s edge. It was probably the boat Felix had mentioned. It blended so well with its surroundings that it was almost invisible unless one would look closely.
Curious if the cat might be there, Charlotte approached the boat. When she was almost there, she stopped abruptly and gasped.
There was something there. It wasn’t a cat.
“…Richard?”
The person in the boat was unmistakably Richard.
He was lying down, his dark blue tie loosely undone, legs stretched out, and his left arm shielding his eyes. Even in the faint shadow, his sharp nose and chiseled jawline were distinct. His slightly parted lips were a striking red.
His beauty, which she thought she would have gotten used to by now, was still disarming, like a flawless marble statue.
“Miss Charlotte?”
Felix’s voice called from a distance just as Charlotte turned to tell him Richard was here. A swift hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards the boat, tipping her into it.
They lay face to face in the narrow boat, and Charlotte hiccupped in surprise.
“…Richard?”
“Shh.”
A single syllable was his response as he barely opened his mouth. His eyes, a strange shade of twilight purple, were intensely close.
“Miss Charlotte? Where are you?”
Felix’s footsteps were getting closer.
“…”
Her heart thumped loudly, contrasting with the calm breathing right in front of her.
Her throat tickled. Just as another gasp threatened to escape, Richard pulled her closer by the neck.
Her face pressed against his firm chest, their posture could easily be mistaken for that of intimate lovers. The awareness of his body heat paralyzed her; she could neither push him away nor escape. Lifting her head was all she managed.
Richard lifted the corner of his mouth as he looked down at her. Her expression was like that of a prisoner unjustly condemned or perhaps a trembling young rabbit caught in a hunter’s trap.
A sudden urge to crush her close surged through him. The skin beneath his hand was warm and soft, as if it would melt right through his fingers.
“Miss Charlotte!”
The next moment, a voice sounded very close by.
“Strange. Where did she go?”
Felix was nearby, seemingly looking for her. As Charlotte almost moved her lips to respond, Richard whispered softly.
“Go ahead and scream.”
“…”
“If you want this kind of scene to be discovered.”
She had to choose. The man who looked ready to devour her now or the scandal that would surely reach her mother’s ears soon enough.
Charlotte chose the former. The once-in-a-lifetime opportunity slipped away.
“Where did she go……”
Fortunately, within a few minutes, Felix’s footsteps faded as he seemed to go looking in another direction. Finally, she could breathe freely.
“Haah…”
Richard let go of Charlotte and sat up. He looked down at her still lying down, then swept back his tousled hair. His appearance was reminiscent of a man just after lovemaking, adding a languid, decadent air totally at odds with the peaceful Sunday afternoon.
Lost in his gaze, Charlotte was jolted back to reality when Richard teased her.
“Do you make a hobby of watching people sleep?”
Her senses snapped back, and Charlotte quickly got up.
“No, I… I didn’t know you were here.”
“On a holy Sunday, not at church.”
“…”
She recalled the first day she had met him at Gredel Hill. That Sunday, he had been armed, shooting a wolf dead from his saddle without a change in expression.
Feeling somewhat teased, Charlotte retorted.
“Don’t you attend services, sir?”
“Richard.”
“…Don’t you go to church, Richard?”
Reluctantly correcting herself, Richard replied as if it were compensation for her proper address.
“I don’t have time to waste listening to an old man’s sermons.”
His remark was so irreverent it would have stunned the aged parish priest to faint.
“Weren’t you taking a nap?”
“Until someone woke me.”
Unable to respond to her own question, she received a cool reply.
🍉🍉🍉
