He awoke to a hand on top of his face and a leg dangerously positioned toward his crotch. He had almost forgotten where he was and who he was with until he caught glimpse of the shining flaxen hair laid messily on the pillow tops. She looked like a mess while she slept, her mass of curly hair spread everywhere. Gently, Jonathan removed her hand from atop his face as she remained asleep. He turned away to get up, dressing himself properly as he his stare would temporarily settle on her sleeping figure. The sorrow that loomed over his head still reminded him of the events which occurred the night previously.

Quietly, he approached her at her side and nudged her awake only to answered with a groan.

"Not now Annie," she grumbled under her breath as the sheets were pulled over her head.

"Get up Charlotte, we must leave now," he coaxed her, his fingers raking through her hair. But of course, stubborn as she was, Charlotte remained under the covers.

"I suppose I'll have to drag you up then," he chuckled, a smirk appearing on his face.

She ignored him and rolled over yet again. With a sigh, Jonathan pulled the sheets from her hands and in a steady swoop, picked her up in his arms. She should've woken up but her eyes were still shut, her hand clasping onto his shirt now as if to believe it was the bedsheet.

"You leave me no choice." Jonathan proceeded to spin her about until her eyes fluttered open and she smacked him on the chest for picking her up and giving her a headache so early in the morning. Her complexion pinked immediately and she released herself from his arms. Her eyes darted his shirt, the white betraying his skin in the light which shone on the muscles that were hidden beneath. She averted her eyes quickly as she demanded for him to leave the room to dress properly. And he did, telling her that they'd eat breakfast quickly.

Charlotte watched him shut the door and she pinched her cheeks, scolding herself for being so foolish as to blatantly ogle him. As if in her damn mind she'd want to be held again, touched by such a bastard.

"Jonathan Lennox can choke on horse dung," Charlotte muttered under her breath as she got herself dressed.

The carriage ride was stuffy but quiet, neither spoke a word but every so often, Jonathan would catch Charlotte staring in his direction before she avert her attention elsewhere. It was only the flesh of her skin that betrayed her. He stifled a smile that attempted to grace his features. They were returning to his home, his proper home where he grew up. He wanted to show her the vast expanse of the Dukedom of Richmond. His grandfather had returned days ago to tend to his mother. She was a woman he tried to forget, not because he didn't love her but because of the ghost she had been reduced to. His mother, Jane lived with a broken heart ever since his good for nothing father had jumped ship with a wench he claimed to have love. They had set sail for the Americas, most likely Plymouth and along with his abandonment of his responsibilities, the man also brought along part of the family's fortune. Jonathan hated him.

"Will we arrive soon?" Charlotte mumbled, growing bored of the scenery and the silence.

"Soon." He watched her, her expression grim as no sign of life seemed to light her pretty face. He was sorry, truly, he didn't wish to torture her but it was too late to turn back. He loved her more than she knew and he intended to be righteous toward her.

"Good, then our company shall come to a halt," the words fell from her lips smoothly and coldly, with every intention of insulting him. He didn't say anything.

When the carriage pulled up to a vast estate, Charlotte's interests were piqued. It was lavish, perhaps even more lavish than her own home in Salisbury. Unlike her home which was encircled by lawns and trees, Richmond had flowers blossoming in shrubberies. She refused to let excitement appear on her face but she was very much curious and interested in this foreign place.

"Welcome home, Lord Lennox, welcome Lady Cecil," the butler said with a bow.

"Thank you Chadwick, how is my mother doing?"

"Very well my Lord, she's taken her walks with the Duke."

Charlotte had never heard him mention his mother before nor was she aware that he still had one. Her own mother was a figure she had never known, she had died shortly after Charlotte was born. Though her father didn't seem to have mourned much, his business had prioritized itself over his dead wife. In fact, for most of her life, Charlotte's father was only a looming presence who cared more about his wealth than the rest of his family. He wasn't a cruel man but simply indifferent. Perhaps that was why she had grown up without society's opinion of etiquette and respectable protocol.

"Please come this way Lady Cecil, I shall escort you to your chambers." The butler said as he gestured for Charlotte to follow.

"Thank you," she did her best to curtsey, quickly following the old man on his heels into the Richmond estates.

The hallways were long, decorated with hundreds of paintings and portraits on the walls. The color of the place was unsettling - depressing even, the brownish maroon of the paint looked pitiful and even the flowers in the vases looked sad.

"Your room, miss."

She caught her breath at the room, it was lovely. Unlike the corridors which looked like a prison, her room was light and airy. There were multiple windows that allowed natural sunlight as well as a balcony. Her bed was large, pale rose and lavender shades were draped around and even the bureaus and drawers were crafted with gold and painted in white. It was breathtakingly girlish but she couldn't help but admire it all. The room seemed to have been prepared specifically for her. And the thought made her blush, her head drifting off to the unbearable Jonathan Lennox and all his doings.

Dinner had been awkward to say the least as the long table only managed to situate three members. Charlotte, Jonathan and Cornelius, his mother's whereabouts were a mystery. While Cornelius attempted to make conversation, it was difficult to dispel Charlotte's grudge against his grandson. And the dinner ended as quickly as it had begun.

Off topic af but man, art school is hard and time management really matters in school and out of school. Despite being shoved with piles of work, I think I can survive - or at least I'm trying lel rip. But yes for those of you who didn't know ;) I'm doing art and write in my free time, the two work interchangeably which is awesome. But anyways, comment, vote, lemme know how your day! Until next week!