Frankenstein, What a strange choice of literature she picked, yet amazingly accurate.
He thought to himself. He saw himself as a monster, but he doubted that she, or anyone else for that matter, noticed that side of him as he kept it hidden from the world. Even Mars had only seen it a few times in his seventy years of service.
He watched her silently for a few minutes before realizing how strange it was for someone from the White Chapel slum to be able to read. Just the fact that a small part of the female
ton
could read was a miracle. Most women, no matter whether they were high or lowborn, did not have such time for such frivolities.
He found himself wondering, and not for the first time, where she came from and who she really was as he walked over to his desk and pulled out his ledger to work out the household accounts for last month.
He had worked on the accounts for a few hours when he decided that enough was enough. He closed the ledger for the night and watched her. She was still deep within her book, he noticed with a grin, noting on how she was twirling a strand of raven black hair around her finger idly.
She mindlessly adjusted her dress as she turned the page, then seeming to realize that he watching her she looked at him as he sat behind his desk.
"Are you enjoying the book, Ma chère?"
"Yes, the idea she is relating of the loss of innocence is intriguing," then realizing she had said too much she blushed and looked at her feet.
He raised an eyebrow at the grasp of the literature she had and he walked over to her sitting next to her on the settee moving her hair behind her and kissed her neck, "There is more to you than meets they eye isn't there, chère?"
She looked at him, "You could say that Darien," her tone indicated that she did not wish to continue this line of conversation as she resumed reading her book.