Anne

As we arrived at the castle in Elderwood, we were greeted warmly by Marilyn's mother and aunt. "Oh, dear Anne, you've been an indispensable help throughout the wedding preparations, my love," she exclaimed, her voice laced with genuine admiration and gratitude, as she clasped my hands in hers.

Her words, infused with warmth, shifted to Elliot, who stood just behind me. "Greetings, Lord Pollard," she addressed him, her tone reverent. "Aren't you a fortunate gentleman, indeed? You've truly won in life to have Lady Anne as your lovely wife," she complimented Elliot, much to my embarrassment. A flush of color warmed my cheeks at the unexpected praise, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease when she referred to me as his wife. Despite our growing bond during the journey to Elderwood, the title felt oddly unfamiliar and out of place.

Elliot cleared his throat, seamlessly slipping into the role of deception as he placed a reassuring hand on my back. "I certainly am, Mrs. Smith," he affirmed with practiced ease. "I offer my gratitude to the heavens each night for blessing me with such a remarkable woman. Indeed, I count myself fortunate," he continued, his words flowing effortlessly.

My heart fluttered at his confident delivery, and I stole a glance upward, meeting his gaze. Despite the charade, a flicker of uncertainty lingered in his eyes beneath the veneer of his smile. It was a subtle moment of vulnerability, swiftly concealed behind a facade of composure. As our eyes locked, I couldn't help but marvel at his adeptness at deception. While I struggled with nerves, he remained composed and collected, his demeanor unwavering. It left me wondering—what hidden depths lay beneath his calm facade, and what experiences had molded him into such a skilled actor?

Marilyn's aunt, Mrs. David's soft chuckle interrupted our shared gaze, drawing our attention away. She grinned warmly at us, her eyes sparkling with affection. "Ah, aren't you two just lovely," she gushed, her words dripping with genuine admiration. "I've always said it—you both make the finest couple in town. Lord Elliot is truly a fortunate man," she continued, her praise extending to me as she turned her gaze towards me.

"You, Anne," she addressed me directly, her tone filled with sincerity, "are equally blessed to be wedded to such a caring and handsome man," she added with a smile, her words carrying a warmth that enveloped us both. Her kind words were like a gentle embrace, reaffirming the connection that had blossomed between Elliot and me, even amidst the pretense of our fabricated union. "I just wish that my Bethany finds a fine gentleman like you, Lord Elliot," she added with a soft sigh, her voice tinged with a wistful longing.

Mrs. David is infamous as the town's resident gossipmonger, her reputation preceding her like a dark cloud over Silverhelm. Known for her insatiable curiosity and penchant for weaving tales out of thin air, she's the lady most folks try to avoid like the plague. Her predatory eyes seem to scan everyone and everything, ever on the lookout for the next juicy morsel of information to spread around town.

I had been forewarned about her by her own niece, Marilyn, who cautioned me never to divulge any secrets in her presence. Marilyn's words echoed in my mind like a warning bell, reminding me of the potential danger lurking behind Mrs. David's seemingly innocuous facade.

In her presence, Elliot and I trod cautiously, acutely aware of the delicate web of deceit we had woven around our fake relationship. It irked me to no end that whenever our paths crossed, I'd inevitably catch her scrutinizing me with those calculating eyes. I'd offer her a polite smile, all the while inwardly bracing myself for the possibility of her uncovering the truth about our charade. The fear of her uncovering our carefully guarded secret loomed over me like a shadow, a constant reminder of the perilous game we were playing.

As for her daughter, Bethany, I've had the pleasure of meeting her only once. To put it delicately, she's quite an intriguing individual. However, I couldn't help but notice a certain air of pretentiousness about her demeanor. Her mother, Mrs. David, takes great pride in showcasing Bethany's beauty and talents to all who will listen—a fact that has never escaped my notice.

While I can appreciate a mother's pride in her offspring, something is disconcerting about Bethany's behavior. Whether it's her apparent arrogance or her overly enthusiastic admiration for Elliot, I find myself unsettled in her presence. Like many others in Silverhelm, she subscribes to the belief that Elliot and I are husband and wife. Yet, despite this supposed marital bond, she makes no effort to conceal her admiration for him when I'm around—a fact that I find rather distasteful.

Elliot offered a respectful nod and a tight-lipped smile in response to Mrs. David's words. "I certainly hope she finds herself matched with a truly remarkable man, Mrs. David. Please know that my sincerest blessings are with her," he replied with unwavering politeness.

Following our exchange, we were ushered into the castle where we would be residing. To my dismay, it became apparent that we would be sharing the living quarters with Marilyn, Joseph, and a host of their close friends and family. This arrangement meant that Elliot and I would not only be sharing the castle but also our sleeping quarters. The prospect of sharing not just the bedroom but perhaps even a bed with Elliot left me feeling uneasy.

As the castle attendants guided us to our assigned room, I stole a glance back at Elliot, who trailed behind me. I couldn't deny feeling a twinge of nervousness, and I suspected he might be experiencing the same. Given his position, the weight of apprehension likely bore down on him even more heavily than it did on me. Yet, true to his nature, Elliot remained a master at concealing his emotions behind a facade of composure.

We were escorted to our quarters, nestled on the first level of the castle. As we stepped into the room, we were greeted by a breathtaking view of the lake that sprawled behind the castle—a serene backdrop for the impending wedding festivities. The scene was nothing short of picturesque, with the tranquil waters reflecting the vibrant hues of the surrounding foliage. I found myself enchanted by the prospect of strolling along the lake's edge, soaking in its natural beauty.

Our room exuded a sense of spaciousness, with ample room to accommodate more than one bed if needed. However, a single, grandiose bed adorned with exquisite pearl-white bedding dominated the space, commanding attention with its sheer size and elegance. The attached bathroom was a welcome luxury, a rare find that added to the room's allure and convenience.

In addition to the bed and bathroom, the room boasted a range of amenities designed for comfort and functionality. A closet provided ample storage for our belongings, while a fireplace promised warmth and coziness during chilly evenings. A charming dressing table beckoned, adorned with mirrors and grooming essentials, while a pair of inviting chairs and a small table formed a cozy nook for intimate conversations or quiet moments of reflection.

The walls of our quarters were adorned with an eclectic array of artworks, each adding its own unique charm to the space. Meanwhile, a soft carpet underfoot lent a sense of warmth and comfort, completing the ambiance of our newfound sanctuary within the castle walls.

After the servants departed, leaving Elliot and me to our own devices, a moment of silence enveloped the room as we took in our surroundings. I observed Elliot, noting the subtle tension in his demeanor as his eyes roamed the space, evidently searching for a semblance of privacy that remained elusive. A weary sigh escaped my lips as I felt the pull of the enchanting vista beyond the window, beckoning me with its tranquil allure.

With a gentle sweep of the curtains, I gazed out at the serene landscape, allowing the beauty of the scenery to momentarily distract me from the reality of our shared accommodations. It was in this quiet interlude that Elliot finally broke the silence, his voice carrying a soft timbre as he addressed me.

"Your... Princess Anne," he began, his words laced with a tentative uncertainty that mirrored my own hesitance. I turned to meet his gaze, finding him standing near the door with an air of respectful deference, his hands poised before him in a gesture of deference.

"Once the castle has fallen into slumber," he continued, his tone respectful and measured, "I shall graciously vacate the room to afford you the rest you deserve." With a dignified bow, he affirmed his commitment to honor the boundaries of our shared space, his words carrying a silent reassurance amidst the uncertainty that lingered between us.

I placed a hand behind me and took measured steps toward the center of the room, my gaze narrowing as I regarded Elliot. "Hmm," I mused, coming to a halt. "And where do you intend to go?" I inquired, my tone tinged with curiosity.

Elliot's resolve remained steadfast as he met my gaze. "I shall determine that in due time," he replied with unwavering determination.

I scoffed incredulously, unable to suppress a hint of frustration. "Elliot, considering the watchful eyes around us, slipping away will only lead to trouble," I pointed out, gesturing toward the closed door. "Mrs. David, in particular, has a knack for prying into matters that don't concern her. If you were to vanish at night and reappear in the morning, she'd be the first to notice. Do you truly wish to risk such scrutiny?"

My words hung in the air, laden with the weight of caution. "I, for one, am not inclined to take such chances. So, could you please dispense with the formalities and simply go along with our arrangement? It's just for a week. Let's try to make the best of it and maintain our composure," I implored, my tone a blend of urgency and exasperation. After a brief pause, during which I could sense him contemplating my words, Elliot finally relented. With a resigned sigh, he nodded in acquiescence, acknowledging the wisdom in my argument.

We were on a tight schedule, with dinner with everyone looming just a couple of hours away. Before we could join the gathering, we needed to freshen up and change into more suitable attire. I offered Elliot the opportunity to use the bathroom first, but he politely declined, suggesting he had matters to discuss with Joseph—a pretext I suspected was merely to give me some privacy.

As Elliot excused himself from the room, I felt a twinge of relief. The thought of bathing and changing with him present would have been undeniably awkward. With his departure, I could proceed with my own preparations without reservation.

It took me the better part of an hour to don my attire—a luxurious maroon silk taffeta dress that draped elegantly over my frame. As I stood before the mirror, drying my hair with a towel, my gaze wandered momentarily to the window. There, I spotted Elliot standing alone by the lake, his silhouette framed against the serene backdrop. Was he simply admiring the view, or perhaps waiting for me to finish changing?

A pang of guilt washed over me as I watched him, realizing the sacrifices he made for my sake. While my father had hired him to ensure my safety, I couldn't help but feel responsible for the disruption his presence caused in his life. It was as though I had put his own aspirations on hold, making every interaction uncomfortable and strained.

As I observed Elliot standing by the lake, his posture serene against the backdrop of the shimmering waters, my attention was drawn to a figure approaching him—a vision in pearl-white attire. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized her: Bethany David.

Squinting my eyes, I scrutinized their interaction intently. Bethany's animated gestures and bright smile contrasted sharply with Elliot's composed demeanor as she tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to her with a polite smile, nodding along as she spoke, though the specifics of their conversation eluded me from my vantage point at the window.

Despite the passage of time, their exchange showed no sign of abating. Bethany's effusive chatter continued unabated, and Elliot remained a captive audience, his demeanor unfailingly courteous. A sense of unease gnawed at me as I watched, a growing apprehension fueled by the realization that their prolonged interaction could draw unwanted attention to our fabricated relationship.

With a furrowed brow, I resisted the urge to give them privacy, my instincts warned me against allowing Elliot and Bethany's rapport to flourish unchecked. After all, we were meant to uphold the charade of husband and wife, and Elliot's dalliance with Bethany threatened to unravel our carefully constructed facade.

Minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity as Bethany's ceaseless chatter persisted, punctuated only by brief interjections from Elliot. Entranced, I had long abandoned my task of drying my hair, my focus entirely consumed by the scene unfolding outside the window.

Suddenly, as if sensing my scrutiny, Elliot's gaze shifted from Bethany to me, and I recoiled instinctively. Caught in the act, I felt a surge of embarrassment wash over me, my cheeks flushing crimson with self-consciousness. Despite his calm demeanor, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was keenly aware of my watchful eyes upon him.

Quickly retreating from the window, I sought refuge in the mundane task of drying my hair, hoping to divert attention from my indiscretion. Yet, the weight of embarrassment lingered, casting a shadow over my composure as I grappled with the awkwardness of being caught in the act of spying on Elliot.

A soft knock on the door disrupted the silence, and I tensed instinctively, recognizing it as Elliot's subtle signal. Anxious anticipation gripped me, but I resigned myself to the inevitable. With a resigned sigh, I granted him entry, bidding him to come in.

The door creaked open, and Elliot stepped into the room, his presence commanding yet respectful. A courteous bow accompanied his entrance, followed by a fleeting glance in my direction. His eyes briefly flitted over the attire I had chosen before swiftly retreating.

With a courteous yet hesitant tone, he broached the subject at hand. "We are expected to join the others for dinner shortly. If you've finished with the bathroom, may I have the opportunity to freshen up?" His words were laced with politeness, revealing his desire to adhere to propriety while also attending to his own needs.

With a strained smile, I assented, "Of course, Elliot." His acknowledgment was punctuated by a brief pause, during which our eyes inadvertently locked. In that fleeting moment, there was an unspoken exchange, a hint of uncertainty lingering between us. He swiftly broke the connection, diverting his attention to the task at hand.

I observed quietly as he selected his attire, opting for a towel and his usual ensemble of linen shirts and trousers. Yet, his movements faltered momentarily, a subtle hesitation betraying his usual composure. His gaze flickered towards me, and in that instant, he made a decision. Discarding the navy blue garments, he reached for a matching set in a deep maroon hue—a color mirroring my own attire.

A muted chuckle escaped my lips as I watched him prepare, a flush of warmth coloring my cheeks at his subtle gesture. It was a small detail, inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, yet it spoke volumes about the lengths we went to maintain our facade.

As I applied a natural lip color, crafted from the essence of beetroot and safflower, the sound of the bathroom door creaking open drew my attention. I turned to find Elliot lingering in the doorway, his demeanor tentative yet resolute.

Before I could utter a word, he spoke up, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty. "Lady Bethany and I engaged in a courteous conversation. Rest assured, there were no prying ears nearby," he reassured me with a brief pause, his eyes meeting mine in a moment of sincerity.

With that, he retreated back into the confines of the bathroom, leaving me to ponder his words in the wake of his departure.