The Bitter Reality

Alger Gwendolyn was supposed to be too busy to keep an eye on her.

At least, that was what Eleanor had assumed. With Eiser gone, Alger had inherited the daunting task of sorting through six months' worth of neglected paperwork in his study. Surely, that would keep him occupied enough to leave her to her own devices.

Yet, to her dismay, Alger was anything but overwhelmed. He joined her for every meal, never once missing their scheduled breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. He even accompanied her for afternoon tea on the balcony, silently watching the sunset together. For three days, she had been forced to maintain the act—playing the part of an injured, fragile little sister, her every movement carefully measured, her expressions tempered.

During one such afternoon tea, Eleanor took a slow sip of her chamomile tea before setting her cup down with deliberate care. "Brother, do you not find my company dull?" she asked, watching Alger from the corner of her eye.