“What is it you think he does?” Emily had absentmindedly asked one of her handmaidens one day. It had been another uneventful breakfast.

No conversations were exchanged between the two and soon went their separate ways. But while he left she stayed behind a bit longer in her chair and let her mind wonder.

The poor handmaiden looked concerned, many of the servants had come to like Ms. Emily’s presence. Any worker lucky enough to stay with her had easily preferred serving her then Mr. Crump, much politer and soft-spoken compared to her much more abrasive husband, who’d fly off the handle at the slightest mistake he could find.

“I do not know, madam,” she had responded doubtfully. She did not know how to respond and Emily couldn’t blame her. She did not know what prompted her to even ask that question out loud to begin with. Perhaps she was simply venting out her thoughts.

No matter, tonight she’d possibly get to spend some more time with him as tonight was for one of his many well known parties.

—

Emily had grown to dislike parties and social gatherings like this.

Though she’d never been one for being in a setting with large sums of people prior, she’d find some swell of enjoyment by the end of the night. The same could not be said when she was at one of her husband’s grand events.

Everything felt planned out, who arrived, how they dressed, how they behaved, even how they danced. It was all to posh for her.

And afterwards was when Alistair would act the strangest to her, he’d disappear randomly from the party and she’d not see her for the rest of the night until the party was long over and she was in her chambers, often long asleep and woken up to the sound of the door opening to him entering and requesting her to awaken.

And then to fulfill his desires for the rest of the night.

But something else she didn’t like about these parties was the strange disappearances.

Often a guest would randomly vanish from the party and not be seen the next day, or ever again.

The coincidence that some of those people who would go missing, the last person she’d see them speaking to was, in fact, her husband.

That wasn’t lost on her either.

However as she felt smothered by tonight’s abundances of guests, she squeezed through in an attempt to find him.

And when she did she was meet with quite the sight, he was off to the side in the corner of the front mansion’s entrance.

But he wasn’t on his own, he was holding a conversation with somebody.

A another woman.

A young socialite that Emily was faintly familiar with and the way he seemed to smile and go along with the conversation made a uncomfortable feeling emerge from the bottom of her stomach at the sight.

She wanted to interrupt, to intervene. But if she did there’d be possible repercussions. Perhaps his anger — his wrath.

She simply slunk back into the crowd. And decided to slip away from the crowd perhaps she’d go back to her chambers early. Not that anyone here would notice.

—

She wasn’t surprised to hear the door to the bedroom creaking open. No matter how quiet he tried to make it she knew he’d wake her up eventually so she’d save him the trouble.

“Did tonight’s festivities suffice?” She asked tiredly, as she sat up.

He didn’t seem surprised upon seeing her already awake and staring at him, he kept his stoic expression.

“It was acceptable,” was his only response.

She had noticed how he was not wearing his overcoat instead choosing to have it sling over his arm as he held it close.

He moved around the room as if he were an innocent man not having his wife staring at him with something clearly behind her eyes. As if he hadn’t done anything wrong.

She was aware of the routine and what would come next — he slung into bed, resting his chin on her shoulder and she felt the light feather-like kisses trailing down her. She shivered.

But stopped before it could continue, she abruptly turned her head to look at him the sudden jerk made him pull back and look surprised for a moment.

“Did that young lady not satisfy you enough, I presume?” She asked, attempting to sound stern and have her anger come through.

Alistair remained unfazed “what are you speaking of?”

“I saw you, the both of you at the ballroom speaking, you smiling at her,”

He stared at her for a moment, Emily wondered what he’d do next. Perhaps he’d admit to something but then he’d follow it by saying some such excuse, saying he didn’t mean it, or it was a moment of weakness.