"What if they're... doing something criminal?" The words sounded ridiculous even as I said them.
Roy gave me a skeptical look. "Criminal?"
"Robbery? Blackmail?" I ventured, though I didn't truly believe it. Clark wasn't capable of hurting anyone—not physically, at least.
"I doubt that."
"Then what do you think?"
Roy considered this. "I suggest you go to sleep and speak with Lord Langton tomorrow. You're the person he respects most here. He might give you some answers."
The person he respects most?
"What do you mean?"
Roy hesitated, clearly torn. "Please tell me," I urged.
Finally, he relented. "When Lord Langton faces a tough decision, he often asks the staff, 'What would Lady Langton do?' or 'What would Lady Langton think?' In his way, I think he cares about you."
His words took me by surprise. I would never have admitted Clark cared for me. But maybe... just maybe... there was a glimmer of respect.
I went to bed with a swirl of mixed emotions, trying to sleep but failing. I lay there, straining to hear the faintest sound of his return. The night stretched on in silence.
***
I woke up with a fierce determination to uncover what was going on with Clark. His behavior last night had been more than suspicious, and I'd had enough of his secrets.
Throwing back the covers, I stood and opened the curtains. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a golden glow over the horizon. I congratulated myself on waking up so early; Grace, my maid, wouldn't arrive until eight. A glance at the clock confirmed it was just past five. Too early to summon her, so I prepared myself and made my way downstairs to the dining room.
It was empty, as expected.
A servant appeared, and I ordered breakfast. "Has Lord Langton eaten yet?"
"No, my lady. He usually breaks his fast at six," the servant replied.
Perfect. I'd be here first.
Right on cue, at precisely six o'clock, Clark entered the dining room. He looked slightly disheveled, his eyes still puffy with sleep and his hair charmingly tousled. Whatever urgent matter had called him away last night must have kept him out for hours.
When he saw me, his lips curled into a faint smile. "Good morning, Whitewood. Up so early?" His voice was raspy with sleep, carrying an unexpected softness. Something twisted in my stomach. There was an undeniable charm to him when he was like this—vulnerable, almost boyish.
Don't get distracted, Roselyn. Remember your mission.
"Where were you last night?" I demanded, my tone sharp and accusatory.
He rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn, then sat down. "There was an urgency in the village." He began filling his plate with eggs, offering no further explanation.
"What kind of urgency?" I pressed, not letting him off the hook.
He sighed, clearly exasperated. "Whitewood, please. It's too early for an interrogation."
"No," I shot back. "You're keeping secrets, and it's driving everyone crazy." It's driving me crazy, I wanted to add.
"A: I'm allowed to have secrets, darling. I'm a grown man. And B: I'm not keeping any. There's nothing for you to worry about."
I resisted the urge to slam my head against the table. Why was he being so infuriatingly evasive?
"Is this about a woman?" I blurted out.
His expression shifted to one of mild offense. "No," he replied firmly. "I'm not that kind of man."
"Then where do you always disappear to?"
He held my gaze for a moment, his eyes unreadable. "Why do you care?"
His question echoed in my mind. I had no quick retort. Why did I care? Knowledge was power, and right now, I was powerless. But was that the only reason? Was it just curiosity? Or was there something else—something more unsettling?
"Never mind," I sighed, standing up from the table. He was right. Why should I care? It was none of my business.
As I walked away, a foolish part of me hoped he'd call out. No, wait. I can explain. Please stay. But the room remained silent.
***
Defeated, I walked to the library, carrying three books destined for the village shelves along with the manuscript of my novel. Without a word to anyone, I set off, the crisp morning air a refreshing balm against my frustration. The sun shone gently, casting golden hues over the landscape. It was an exceptionally beautiful late August morning, and as I walked, my anger toward Clark began to ebb away. There was no practical point in being mad at him. I could simply pretend he didn't exist and continue my days as I had before his arrival.
"Good morning, Lady Langton," Mrs. Fox greeted warmly from behind the librarian's desk as I entered. Two young girls were just leaving, each clutching a book. I recognized the titles, and my heart swelled with pride—the once-forgotten volumes were finally being used.
"Good morning, Mrs. Fox," I replied with a smile. We exchanged pleasantries, and she eagerly shared news of the library's recent activity.
"I haven't counted the visitors, but there have been so many," she said, placing the new books I'd brought onto a shelf. "We even had a few visitors from other villages. Word must be spreading quickly."
Hearing this filled me with joy. "Thank you again, Mrs. Fox. None of this would have been possible without you."
She waved off the compliment, though her smile betrayed her pleasure. "Honestly, it's been a bit of a dream come true for me, having a job like this."
"I brought something else today," I said, setting the thick manuscript on her desk. She eyed the stack of papers with curiosity.
"Is this... your novel?"
"Yes. It's another project I've been working on for the past year," I explained, my voice tinged with nervousness. "I wanted to ask if you'd be the first to read it. Of course, only if you're not too busy with library work."
Her response was immediate. "It would be an honor, Lady Langton."
Sharing my work with someone felt terrifying, but I trusted Mrs. Fox.
"I'd appreciate any feedback you have," I added, my voice softer. "I'm still unsure if it's good enough to publish, so please be honest."
"Of course. I'll give you my honest thoughts."
"Thank you."
We continued chatting about books and the library, the conversation flowing easily. I silently thanked Mrs. Fox for not broaching the subject of the new Lord Langton or marriage.
I was at peace when I left the library. That calm stayed with me—until I returned home and discovered what Clark had done.