Part 1: The Stranger with the Earl's Eyes
The wind moved like a whisper through the dry trees, scattering dust along the footpath outside the small, cracked house that Jenny would never miss. The morning sun hadn't risen fully, but its pale gold hue washed gently over the earth, giving the day a quiet sadness. Jenny sat silently on the edge of the wooden stool, hands clasped tightly in her lap. The room smelled faintly of damp mats and ashes from the small fire that had died at night. Her small bundle sat beside her, all she owned wrapped in worn fabric. The house behind her groaned with silence. No one came to see her off. Not her aunt, who had barked orders and curses all her life. Not her cousins, who had mocked her behind closed doors. No one had even said goodbye. A sudden sound broke through the stillness: hoof beats. They grew louder. She stood. A dark carriage pulled by two strong horses came into view, its wheels creaking slightly as it rolled to a stop in front of the house. The driver descended without a word and opened the carriage door. From it stepped a man. Jenny froze. The morning light struck his figure just enough to show his polished boots, a tailored black coat, and the controlled, elegant way he moved. His face was expressionless, but his features were unforgettable. Chiselled jawline, high cheekbones, and a mouth that looked like it hadn't smiled in years. His hair was deep black, combed back in waves that refused to be tamed. But it was his eyes, grey and gleaming like silver blades, that held her most. Devilishly handsome, she thought involuntarily. Not the soft kind of handsome from books. The kind that made your breath hitch and not always in a good way. He glanced around the place. Disgust flickered in his gaze. "Are you Jenny?" he asked flatly. She nodded, unsure if she should curtsy or speak. "I am Cavenham. The Earl." The word sat heavily in the room. Earl. "My parents arranged this years ago with yours," he added. "I came as promised." She blinked. Promised felt like such a strange word. He looked her up and down, not in lust, but in assessment. His tone remained formal, distant. "Bring your things. The carriage is ready."
Part 2: The Carriage and the Contract
The ride was quiet for nearly an hour. Jenny sat across from him, her bundle clutched like a shield. The carriage rocked gently, the sound of wheels rolling against stone roads filling the silence. She could barely look at him, though she felt his presence like heat. "Why me?" she asked finally. His eyes lifted. "Because our parents agreed. My father was a friend of yours. When your family died, he felt it was his duty to honour the bond." She digested that. "Do you want this?" "No," he replied, without cruelty, without hesitation. "But duty and want rarely align. You will be my wife. That's settled." Her throat tightened. "But you don't know me." "I don't need to." He returned to looking out the window. Jenny stared at the side of his face, wondering if the coldness in him was protection or punishment.
Part 3: One Room at the Inn
Rain began to fall as night came. The coachman pulled into a small country inn nestled among pine trees, its windows glowing orange with firelight. Inside, the innkeeper looked apologetic. "Only one room left, my lord," the man said, glancing nervously between the earl and Jenny. "I'll take it," the earl replied before she could protest. Jenny's heart sank. The room was small, dimly lit by a single candle on the bedside table. A large bed took up most of the space, with a modest chair and a screen in the corner. "I'll take the chair," he said, removing his coat. "You may take the bed." Jenny stood awkwardly, unsure whether to undress, cry, or run. He noticed her hesitation. "You're safe, Jenny. I may be cold, but I'm not cruel." She nodded silently, slipping behind the screen to change into the nightgown one of her relatives had thrown into her bag last-minute. When she lay in the bed, facing the wall, she listened to the silence between them. It was thick with things unsaid. He did not snore. She did not sleep. The space between them was miles wide, even in a single room.
Part 4: Vows in the Morning Mist.
At sunrise, they arrived at a quiet chapel nestled at the edge of a sleepy town. The vicar was waiting with papers, ready to perform the special license wedding quickly, legally, and bondlessly. Jenny wore a simple gown someone had sent ahead. Her hair was tied back. Her hands were cold. "I take thee, Jennifer, as my lawful wife," the earl said with the same tone one might use to agree to a treaty. She repeated the vows in a voice that trembled slightly. A ring was slipped onto her finger. No kiss. No music. Just signatures on paper, and then, they left.
Part 5: The Other Woman
The mansion loomed in the distance like a shadow against the sky, large, grand, but without warmth. When the carriage stopped at the front, servants gathered. But it was she who stepped forward. The woman. She was stunning. Skin like dark velvet, lips full and painted red, eyes sly and golden. Her dress clung to her like it had been poured. "Welcome," she said sweetly to Jenny. "I've heard so much about the... bride." The earl said nothing. He didn't correct her. He didn't send her away. Jenny's heart sank. She was not the only woman in this house. And she would not be the first in his heart.