The Ingrams and Their Secrets

Chapter One

Now

My day starts promptly at six in the morning. From my bed, I can hear the sounds of my masters' breaths. Slowly in and out of their bodies. Lord Elias is always deeper and slower. Lady Charlotte's has always been softer yet with more purpose. I don't wake them immediately. Instead, I prepare the house for the day.

I dressed in my pristine uniform. It had become a hassle to replace them, even with the internet making things convenient. No, it isn't for a costume party or something unmentionable. It is for work. Never did I think black tailcoats would be considered so unusual.

Now, things are not as detailed as they once were. In the past, I would wake earlier and work more. But in my mornings now, I merely have to prepare breakfast, lay out their clothes, and send them off on their way—whatever that may be. Once breakfast was on the table, I went to wake them. Into the foyer, up the grand staircase, and to the left.

"My lady," I whispered, opening her bedroom door. "Breakfast is prepared. It is time to wake up."

Just like always, she groaned from her sleep. She blinked at me with her silver eyes. "Thank you, Sam." Her voice was hoarse and gruff. She cleared her throat and sat up. "Will you prepare my clothes as I eat?"

"Of course, Madam," I said.

She always asked this, yet it was always my duty. At first, I would help her dress first—and the Lord as well. But since it was no longer inappropriate to eat in "pajamas" they decided to push back their dressing time.

I left her room, trusting her to navigate to her own dining room. Moving to the right wing of the manor, I knocked on Elias' door. Two raps followed by his own groan of permission.

"Good morning, Master," I said. "Breakfast is prepared and waiting for you on the table. Lady Charlotte is already on her way downstairs."

"Very good, Sam." He moved his dark hair from his face—I wish he'd let me cut the unkempt mess of it. "I assume my clothes will be ready when I return."

"Of course, Master."

Always.

He nodded and rose from his bed, allowing me to help him into his housecoat. Without another glance, he shuffled off, toward the stairs. In his closet, I brought out his suit for today. On the bathroom door, I hung his black pants and coat, blue tie, white shirt—in their respective order. Over his black dress shoes, I laid a pair of black socks and set them gently by his reading chair, where he would sit to shove his feet into them.

As I made my way to Charlotte's room, my ears picked up the sound of silverware and pleasantries as the couple spoke across the table.

For Charlotte's day, I hung out her light blue blouse and cream cardigan with a pair of fitted black trousers. I laid black socks over her heeled black boots.

Returning to the dining room, Charlotte looked up at me with a smile. "It's delicious, Sam. Thank you."

"It's always delicious," Elias said, but it wasn't a compliment. "Why must you live life in this routine of politeness." His lips tightened before he spoke again. "He knows you're sorry. Sucking up to him doesn't make it easier for any of us."

Charlotte hid her wince well. "Pardon me for being kind. It's the least I can do. In case you've forgotten, this wasn't my fault—it wasn't even my plan to begin with." Her jaw tightened. "In fact, it was your idiocy that got us into the situation—"

"My idiocy?" Elias blurted. "We would've never needed that plan if you didn't end up starving on the streets." Elias turned to me, but his coldness was always directed at Charlotte. "You should've never brought her here that night."

Charlotte hadn't cried about those weeks spent in the grueling streets of the city since she'd gotten her revenge on Nathaniel Warton. Even so, Elias never brought it up because even he had been horrified by the state of her.

This was the first time he'd spoken of that night in such a harsh manner.

"Yeah," she hissed. "Maybe he shouldn't have." She rose from her place at the table and stormed out of the room. Leaving the coldness in her wake. I didn't hear a sniffle until she reached the stairs.

Elias glared at the eggs on his plate.

"That was harsh," I said, picking up Charlotte's dishes. "Pushing her away might very well be the biggest mistake you could ever make, Master."

"I'm not pushing her away," he snapped, his eyes finding mine. "She's my wife."

"You forget that marriage today is not as permanent as it once was." I carried Charlotte's mess from the room, through the swinging door, and into the kitchen.

Elias cursed to his breakfast, probably imagining that night himself.