Episode 6

Tabitha gazed out through the large barred window at the gardens below. The day was drawing to a close, and the rain that had started again after her arrival had finally stopped, giving way to a dark, cloud-filled sky. She could hear the stormy sea, its furious waves crashing heavily against the rocks. Shivering, she pulled the silk shawl tighter around her shoulders. She reached for the bell and rang for the maid. Minutes later, the maid entered to close the window and light the lamps.

Tabitha seated herself in front of the fireplace on a satin-upholstered chair with green and blue stripes. The temperature had dropped, and the logs burning in the hearth sent orange sparks flying into the air. Though they shared the same house, Tabitha barely saw Devereux. The only time they were truly close was during dinner when, impeccably polite, he joined her company with an almost theatrical composure. On these occasions, he was cordial but distant, always maintaining a barrier that made her uncomfortably aware of his presence and, simultaneously, his emotional absence.

He always waited for Tabitha to retire to bed and, presumably, fall asleep before coming to the room. She had never known what their hosts thought of such peculiar behaviour. Perhaps they assumed it was a mark of chivalry, an effort to preserve her privacy, or perhaps they had already noticed the unresolved tension lingering between them.

However, Tabitha knew there was no privacy in sharing a room, not even when he made a point of keeping his distance. Many times, she pretended to sleep just to listen to the soft sounds of his steps across the room. It was in those moments, when he thought she was deep in slumber, that Devereux seemed a little less rigid. The slight creak of a chair, the rustle of fabric as he prepared for bed, and sometimes even the sound of a heavy sigh laden with something she couldn’t decipher. But during the day, the few hours they spent together were truly torturous. At times, he was unbearably cold, making it clear he would rather be anywhere else. Other times, however, she felt the weight of his gaze on her—that piercing look as if he were trying to read something in her soul that even she didn’t know.

I don’t know which is worse, Tabitha thought as she adjusted the dress that always seemed tighter when he was near. His coldness or the way he looks at me, as if I were a puzzle he’s determined to solve.

The week had been the most challenging of her life. Mrs. Granger, usually a reassuring presence in the house, had been called away to assist a cousin in labor. As for Mr. Granger, he spent most of his time in the fields, overseeing the harvest and other estate matters. That left Tabitha and Ethan alone more often than she cared to admit—something she ought to dread, but somehow, also longed for.

At that moment, a sound interrupted her thoughts. The door to the room opened slowly, and she shuddered involuntarily before raising her eyes to find Devereux at the threshold. He looked tired, his shoulders tense, and his gaze clouded by thoughts she couldn’t guess. Yet for a moment, his eyes softened, and she saw a shadow of something deeper—pain, desire, and frustration. With an almost inaudible sigh, he stepped inside and approached the fireplace. The sound of the poker stirring the embers broke the tense silence of the room.

“You’re awake,” he remarked, casting her a fleeting glance as he poured a bit of brandy into a crystal glass. “Are you cold?”

Tabitha hesitated before answering, “A little.”

He nodded and returned to his seat by the fire, the flickering light dancing over his angular features. Tabitha knew there was more to be said, something that desperately needed to escape her throat. She took a deep breath, summoning her courage.

“Lord Devereux, we need to talk. This situation… it cannot go on.”

He raised an eyebrow, his face adopting a slightly mocking but weary expression.

“Ethan,” he corrected. “I’ve told you to call me Ethan. We are ‘married,’ after all. It wouldn’t do for you to address me like a stranger, Tabitha. It would raise suspicions.”

She refused to be intimidated, her tone remaining firm.

“As you prefer, Ethan. But you know perfectly well that’s not what I mean. I’m referring to this… lie, this charade. Pretending we’re married, sharing a room, keeping up appearances for others…”

He leaned back, rubbing his chin with an expression that teetered between annoyance and restraint. When he spoke, his voice was firm but controlled.

“I’ve already explained why we’re in this situation. It’s necessary. I don’t like repeating myself, Tabitha.”

She caught the tension in his words, the frustration he tried to mask. But it only made her more determined.

“Necessary or not, I’ve seen no danger this week that justifies us continuing with this. The only threat I see here… is you.”

The provocation didn’t go unnoticed. He set the empty glass down with more force than he intended, the sound echoing in the room. His eyes, dark as storms, locked onto hers. For a moment, Tabitha thought he might ignore her, but instead, he stood abruptly and crossed the space between them.

“Threat?” he repeated, his voice low and charged with emotion. “I, who have behaved like a damn saint around you?”

Instinctively, Tabitha wanted to retreat, but she forced herself to remain where she was, her head held high with determination.