Charles still had not moved from the doorway but to be shoved past by Henry on his way out. Sarah had her back to him, he could hear that she was crying but he did not go to her. A terrible thought has come to him. Was Henry the soldier Sarah had lost? Perhaps he had just stumbled upon her confessing this to him. Judging by Henry's response, he'd turned her down. Perhaps even reminded her of who her husband was, Henry was a good man like that. But Henry? All this time? Charles struggled to believe the theory completely.

"Sarah," he called to her but she did not respond, "I would speak with you, madam," he added. They had not spoken for nearly a week. Still she did not move.

"Sarah! I said come here!" He commanded.

"I am not a dog, Charles, nor am I a sailor," she stated quietly, her back still turned to him.

He hesitated a moment before swallowing his pride and going to her side. Her face was paler than it had been yesterday, her eyes were red and tears still clung to her eyelashes. How could she be beautiful even now? Charles felt a pull towards her, no matter that she loved another. Compassion won out as Charles reached to swipe at a stray tear, wondering if she would confess her woes to him, if not her heart.

"He is leaving her," Sarah hiccupped, still not meeting his eye and wrapping her arms around herself.

"Who?" he asked in confusion, another tear swiped aside.

"Amelia," she said, then began to cry harder, Charles reached out and took hold of her arms, swinging her to face him.

"And this saddens you?" Charles asked, keeping his tone gruff and distant as Sarah continued to wipe at the constant stream of tears.

"He asked me to..." she squeezed eyes shut and did not continue. Charles felt his gut clench in anxiety.

"Asked you to what?" He demanded impatiently. He watched Sarah talk a long breath to calm herself.

"The coward asked me to tell Amelia that he does not love her," Sarah finished, a bit of the sadness replaced by anger. Charles had not realized he'd been holding his breath until just then. He did not want to admit his relief at discovering the truth of the argument he'd stumbled upon. In a moment Charles had pulled her fully to his chest, pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and thought of the punishments he could promise upon Henry if only to make her stop crying.

"And you are grieved for Amelia?" He asked in a gentler tone now. Sarah gave a small nod.

"I am," she confirmed and the two stood in near silence for a moment. Charles wondering if perhaps he'd been unfair to her all along.

"Do you believe he ever truly loved her?" Sarah asked in a forlorn tone, finally looking up to meet his eye. Her expression was perplexed, but did not seem the expression of a woman tormented by her marriage.

"I know that he does still," Charles reassured her quietly.

"Then why would he do such a thing to her?" Sarah wondered aloud.

"The war still clings to him," Charles explained, "It will pass someday."

"He doesn't believe so," she argued and then, "He said that you would never come back from war either," she said and the comment hung in the air between them.

"Henry does not understand the advantage of a lovely wife to anchor a man to the present instead of the past," Charles assured her, swearing to himself that he would leave the war in the past for her sake as much as his own.

"I've had enough of this talk for today," Charles growled as he turned for the door, meaning to leave her there.

"At least Amelia can find love again."

"Unlike yourself," Charles finished for her in a dark tone, but Sarah turned to him easily, her face still guiltless.

"I was never promised such a thing," she reminded him with a weak smile, "I was promised a home and family and a title and husband," she added, "I have all that expected out of my marriage to Richard." His jaw clenched, could she truly be wishing for Richard now?

"But instead you are bound to me," he replied bitterly, she looked up at him with a sadness and intensity that he himself felt. Without another thought to the matter, Charles claimed her lips in a fearsome, searing kiss. He hurried his passion, holding her tightly, imagining that at any moment she might pull away from him. Instead he felt Sarah lift onto her tiptoes to further pursue his lips, and he rewarded her by simply lifting her off her feet to better press her to him. After a long minute the two broke apart.

"Tell me truly," he asked, "Did you plan to marry me all through the charade?" he asked only out of morbid curiosity, knowing that no answer she could give would ever truly displace her from a position in his heart.

"You were the last person I expected to marry," she told him plainly, and her words stung his pride even as the touch of her fingertips to his skin pulled him towards her again.

"My apologies for the disappointment," he retorted before leaving her in truth this time.