A Royal Secret

CHAPTER SIX

A ROUTINE; one so frequently practiced in the past six weeks, it had become memorized. She woke up every morning to the sound of movements in her room as the maids worked silently in the dim light to prepare her bath and place her clothes on the dresser.

Once the maids exited her room, she would scramble out of bed and bathe herself before the maids return to do it for her. The maids would always appear displeased by her decision to help herself to a bath and her own clothes, but she would dismiss them with a wave of her hand, knowing full well she couldn't have them serve her in that manner, lest she risked the possibility of the mark on the back of her head being revealed. She would instead request for breakfast and would be duly served in her bedchamber.

After breakfast, she would spend the rest of the morning in her bedchamber, seated upon a settee, doing nothing but staring at the vast lands outside her window.

Luncheon would then be brought to her in her room, but dinner would be served in the dining area. She would change out of her day dress and into one of the lovely dinner dresses found in Miss Rose Cartridge's luggage, and would then descend the stairs to the dining room where she would spend the next half hour listening to the silent scrapings of cutlery against the plate.

Jeffery Hendrix was always the first to excuse himself from the room with a small bow of his head, right after he had reminded her of her freedom in his home to demand for whatever she wanted. She would spend the next few minutes listening to the sound of his heels against the marbled floors until it faded completely. Then, she would rise to her feet, gently run her hands down her skirt, straighten and return to her bedchamber.

There was the occasional visit of the dressmaker that added to her routine. Mrs Troop, an elderly woman with a set jaw and a perpetual frown on her face. Chara was told by one of the maids that she was the best dressmaker in town, even if she was anything but accommodating.

Chara would stand for hours while the dressmaker poked her with pins and needles, neglecting to acknowledge her hissing and wincing while she was being fitted for a wedding gown. She would then return to her vacated settee, sore from Mrs Troop's visit, and her daily routine would progress from there.

Today however, her routine was set to take a rather dramatic turn.

Staring at the black steaming liquid in her cup, she sighed; it was to be the day of her wedding to a man she did not just know nothing about, but to a man who knew nothing about her true identity. The fear of being caught in her deception still clung to Chara, despite how long she had been on the estate. Jeffery had shown no signs of suspicion of foul play, but she still could not put her wandering mind at ease, especially because she had failed to glimpse Spencer, her partner in this heinous deception, since the day they arrived the estate.

She took a sip of her coffee; the heat stinging her lips a little before searing down her throat with much difficulty, because of the lump that was clogging her throat.

Sighing softly, she replaced the cup on the tray full of sandwiches, and rose to her feet; it would be pointless trying to eat considering how nervous she felt. She turned her attention to the armoire and pulled out the wedding dress. She slipped out of her nightdress, folded it neatly, and placed it in the armoire, before slipping into the wedding dress. Reaching behind her, she found the ends of the laces of her dress and expertly worked to tie them into a perfect bow. Once the bow was tied and the dress secured to her form, she made her way to the dresser and stared at her image in the mirror. It was an image she could barely recognize; one altered by time and circumstances. No longer did large brown eyes stare back at her, or skin cling so dreadfully to bones. She was far from beautiful, but an inch from ugly.

The gold satin dress was a perfect compliment to her tanned skin. Her bosom, left on display by the low-cut neckline of the dress, made her feel slightly desirable, even if she knew this was not the case. Chocolate brown hair fell to her shoulder blades, framing her now rounded face.