Kurt didnt ring for Marley to help him get ready for bed after Blaine left him alone – too embarrassed to admit to her what did and didnt happen. His body too drained from the emotional turmoil hed been through, he took off his coat and his waistcoat and climbed into bed, stockings and all.

Kurt woke when he felt the sun on his face. It was only a single ray of warmth, but it was enough to do the trick. He opened his eyes, sticky and burning from crying himself to sleep (a habit he was beginning to despise). His body felt heavy and he didnt want to move, but he didnt want anyone to think him a layabout either. He rose slowly in search of a basin and water to clean up with. He looked about the room and noticed things had been moved – his clothes had been picked up off the end of the bed and put away (presumably in the standing wardrobe, as he had yet to check), and his trunks had been brought up from the carriage. On the table beside his bed was the basin he was looking for and a pitcher, which felt full when he picked it up.

Beside the pitcher, on the side of the table closest to him, lay his lavender nosegay.

Kurt turned his head left and right, searching the room for any other evidence that Blaine had returned at some point in the night, since none other but Marley would know of the nosegays significance, but nothing else seemed to point to his specific influence. It probably was Marley, helping the servants bring up his things.

He hoped it wasnt Matthew.

Kurt found a towel and washed up, unpacking the few items that hadnt already been hung up or put away, and then dressed for the day. Then he rang for his maid. It seemed to take her no time at all to arrive at his room, and he wondered how far removed her quarters were from his. She was dressed in the same striped cotton gown and white linen cap that the rest of the servants wore, along with the addition of a white apron. Her eyes looked tired. Kurt supposed she hadnt slept well with this being a new home for her, but her smile hadnt dimmed, and that gave Kurt comfort.

"Oh, Master Kurt…I mean, milord," she said with a shy smile, bobbing a curtsy when she saw him. "I thought youd never wake up."

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked, watching as she poured him a cup of coffee. "What time is it?"

"Its well past noon, Ma-milord," she corrected herself.

"Why did you not wake me?" Kurt asked with an edge of annoyance in his voice.

"Forgive me, milord," she said, smiling when remembering Kurts new title came more easily for her, "but Lord Anderson requested this morning that you not be disturbed."

"You spoke to Lord Anderson this morning?" Kurt asked, surprisingly a bit jealous.

"I did, milord," Marley said, adding milk and sugar to Kurts coffee. "He was up hours ago, and left right after breakfast. Oh…" She reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a folded note. "He bade me give you this."

Kurt took the letter and opened it. It wasnt a lengthy letter, and the wording was fairly dry.

Dear Kurt –

Gone on an errand of personal business.

Should be back this evening.

Lord Anderson

Kurt read the letter over again before folding it and putting it in his pocket.

Lord Anderson.

Not Blaine Anderson, or even simply Blaine. Lord Anderson.

The letter contained no closing sentiment, either. Kurt didnt expect for Blaine to sign the letter love, but sincerely would have been nice.

So, his husband had gotten up early and run off on personal business, abandoning Kurt in a household of servants who disliked him.

How pleasant.

Kurt looked around his overly large, dreary bedroom. Even with the drapes drawn back and the sunlight flooding the room, it felt like a prison – or a tomb.

Kurt needed to be out of doors. He needed the cheer of fresh air and sun.

"I think Ill go sketch in the garden this morn-or, this afternoon," Kurt said, drinking the last of his coffee and taking up his sketchbook and his charcoal pencil. "Become acquainted with the grounds and the flowers."

"Did you want me to come with you, milord?" Marley asked. Kurt smiled, hoping that her question was simply out of concern for him and not an indication that the other servants were treating her poorly.

"Id like to be alone for a bit," Kurt said. "I have a need to clear my head."

"As you wish, milord," Marley said, gathering up the cup and saucer, and giving Kurt another of her comforting smiles. "Just ring when you have need of me."

Kurt nodded as she left, missing the sunshine of her smile the moment she closed the door behind her, but Kurt did need a moment of quiet to make sense of his new life.

Kurt walked the grounds all through the early afternoon, retracing steps he had taken as a child, hoping to find some solace in recounting them, but it was the rose garden, as he had suspected, that he found the most soothing. The flowers he had seen from the carriage were even more incredible up close. The garden itself followed the path along the face of the property, and seemed to stretch on forever. Several pathways wound through it, with a fountain situated in the center, and a single bench constructed of smooth white marble. He ran his fingers over its cool surface and discovered words etched into the stone – For my dearest Rose.

"Rose," Kurt said out loud.

"Countess Rose Anderson, milord," a voice answered. Kurts head snapped up as a pair of brown eyes set into a wholly unpleasant face appeared from behind a hedge of centifolia roses. "The Great Earl had the bench installed after his wifes death."

Kurt narrowed his eyes at the man as he came closer.

"Matthew, am I correct?" Kurt asked, though he knew full well the mans name.

"Yes, milord," Matthew replied, stopping not far in front of Kurt and looking him over in a way that Kurt didnt want to allow. Kurt had hoped to become more acquainted with the servants, and somehow enter into the households good graces, which unfortunately included this man as well. Still, Kurt abhorred the way the man stared at him, as if a bottomless well of loathing dwelled right beneath the surface of his dark brown eyes.

"Did you ever meet the Countess?" Kurt asked. Kurt had met Blaines mother on numerous occasions, but their meetings had been so brief and insignificant that his memories of her had faded considerably.

"I did have the honor, milord," Matthew replied. "She was a remarkable woman, and she and the Great Earl were so much in love." Matthew put a strange emphasis on the word love as to make Kurt uneasy.

"I know little of Earl Gustave," Kurt admitted. "He was always away when I visited here."

Matthews face screwed up distastefully at Kurts words, as if they were somehow an insult to him. Kurt nodded at the servant and began to walk away, longing to put some distance between himself and the grudging man. He felt Matthews eyes on him, but it was the muffled sound of a laugh that gave Kurt pause.

"Im sorry," Kurt said, turning back to the inscrutable man, "have I done something to amuse you?"

"Im not seeing any limp," Matthew stated boldly, his eyes dropping down purposefully to Kurts behind, "and I know for a fact that Lord Anderson gives, he does not take, so I am guessing an uneventful wedding night, milord?"

"Pardon me," Kurt said, furious that this man had figured him out so easily and had the audacity to throw that in his face, "but that is none of your business."

"Actually, it is more my business than you realize, milord," Matthew said with a reckless smile, aware that Kurt could have him whipped for his insolence, but confident that none on the property would actually carry out the action if Kurt ordered it, not with Lord Anderson away.

"And why is that?" Kurt asked, not sure that he wanted to know the answer. He knew what took place in other households between masters and servants, and he was well aware that he had recently stepped into this already established hierarchy, of which he stood at the bottom of the pillar, despite his social status.

"Who do you think his lordship summons when you wont perform, milord?"

Kurts cheeks burned with shame and his eyes burned with tears, but he refused to give this contemptible ass the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

"Im not certain I understand what you are implying," Kurt replied, though he would have to be daft if the mans meaning wasnt perfectly clear, "but Ill be bringing the matter up with my husband."

Matthews confident smirk slipped a trifle, but he didnt seem too concerned with Kurts threat.

"See that you do, milord," Matthew said, ending the conversation with a mocking bow and heading off through the roses the way he came.

Kurt waited for him to be gone, for every trace of him to disappear behind the leaves and thorns, before he sat, shaking on the bench of white stone. He looked down at his sketchbook and turned to the page with the drawing of Adam wearing Kurts design for a suit that Marley had so much admired.

"Oh, darling," he whispered, tracing over the image of Adams face with his fingertips, fighting back a torrent of tears. "Can I change my mind? Can I run away with you now?"

He closed the book, held it tight to his chest, and gave himself permission to sob.

A month had nearly run its course, and every day was the same for Kurt. Blaine would away in the early morning on personal business, leaving Kurt to his own devices, which included walking and drawing and writing letters to his sister. Though he was devoted to writing to her daily, she was spotty herself at writing back.

Probably because her time was better occupied than Kurts.

On the days Blaine stayed at home, he remained locked up in his office, not coming out until dinner time, usually a brandy or two heavier before the soup course had begun.

Life in the country wasnt so exciting as Kurts life near the city had been, with all of its many diversions – some more fair and kind than others – but there was a quiet solitude about the manor house and its surrounding property. It was a sanctuary where nothing troubled him or touched him.

Well, almost nothing.

Matthew continued to haunt Kurts steps with his claims of an ongoing relationship with Lord Anderson, fueled by Kurts own reluctance at intimacy. Before, it had been simply a blow to Kurts ego, but now it was a thorn embedded in his heart. Kurt had loved Blaine once, and even with his many changes, Kurt had begun to picture himself falling in love with Blaine again.

He would need to if he was to survive this marriage.

Blaine didnt bring up the matter of sex with Kurt again after that first night, giving Kurt the freedom to retire to bed when he pleased, or leaving himself without so much as a goodnight.

All of this confirmed what Kurt had feared to be true.

Blaine had made his choice, and a mortified Kurt never broached the issue.

Dinnertime came on another unspectacular evening, but this time Kurt noticed Blaine staring at him from across the table. Kurt looked up several times and caught Blaines eyes staring in that same shameless way he had at his fathers house from across the ballroom.

"Is there something wrong, my lord?" Kurt asked, finding it hard to concentrate on his meal with those sinful eyes watching him.

"What is it that you draw, bent over that sketchbook of yours all day long?" Blaine asked, his eyes falling to the book seated beside Kurt on the table. Kurt jumped when he saw it, usually so careful to keep it hidden amongst his things when Blaine was around. It was like a diary to him, and he never meant for it to be discovered.

"This…" Kurt said, regarding the book anxiously as if it were some stolen item he was not meant to have. Blaine stood from his chair and rounded the table, and Kurt began to fret. "Its just scribblings, my lord. Nonsense drawings. Something to pass the time."

Blaine grabbed the book up off the table and began to flip through its pages.

"It is nothing, my lord," Kurt insisted, reaching out to retrieve it only to have Blaine snatch it higher and away. "Its…its private."

"Private?" Blaine asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Which is to say, its naught very good, my lord," Kurt stammered. "I would be embarrassed for you to see it."

"I dont believe that," Blaine said, "so you had best be careful, as the punishment for lying in my house is a sound spanking." Kurt was outraged by the suggestion at being spanked like a common brat, but it was incentive for him to sit back in his seat and bite his tongue. "Besides, for all the time and effort you put into these pages, you should be able to rival Rembrandt by now." Kurt wanted to preen at Blaines compliment, but it came at the price of having his privacy invaded, so he fumed instead. "I also remember that you were quite the artist once upon a time. Are you trying to tell me youve gotten worse since then?"

Kurt turned his face up to his husband, mouth agape.

"You remember that, my lord?" Kurt asked.

"Of course," Blaine said, captivated by Kurts drawings as he examined them one by one – the manor house, the rose garden, Rachel in her wedding dress, Marley serving Kurt his morning coffee. "I remember a great many things about you."

"Like…what?" Kurt ventured, curious what a man like Blaine Anderson might remember about him.

"Oh, I remember how fond you were of riding once you got the knack for it," Blaine said, turning the page. "I remember how much you loved to sew…"

Blaines eyes found the sketch of the suit Kurt had been working on before the wedding – the suit he had drawn on a likeness of Adam.

The one sketch Kurt had been praying Blaine would somehow overlook.

Blaine lingered on the image a frighteningly long time while Kurt sat, sweating beneath his clothes. Kurt couldnt imagine what Blaine must be thinking, but suddenly Kurt became irate that Blaine should be mad at all, especially considering his dalliances with the help.

Blaine closed the book with a heavy thwap and handed it back to Kurt, almost flinging the thing in Kurts lap. Blaine paced beside the table with that indelicate limp of his, and Kurt held his breath, waiting for his husband to storm off to his office and retire with his bottle of bourbon.

Without warning, Blaine grabbed Kurt by the wrist and yanked him to his feet.

"Wha-" the syllable slipped out of Kurts mouth, but Blaine was already pulling him away.

"Come along, husband," Blaine said. "I`ve let you mourn our marriage long enough."