22. The Perfect Performance #3
The words were indeed too big for the room, too raw for the morning light.
Jason said nothing, for there was nothing to say in the face of such love and devotion. A single tear traced a path down his cheek, as devastating as the emotions swirling within his chest.
Mary nodded, understanding that no response was coming, that none was needed. She turned and left quietly, closing the door with barely a sound.
The room was silent again except for the clock, ticking on, indifferent. And the robin outside, still fluttering around the garden as if nothing else was more important than this.
* * *
The days that followed brought only more silence.
Five days passed in London, and Mr. Moore had not seen Kate once.
The absence was completely orchestrated.
A performance of normalcy that required precise timing and constant vigilance.
Each morning, he would inquire after Mrs. Moore-Sullivan’s schedule through Mary, learning whether she planned to work from home or visit the shipping offices.
If she intended to remain at the house, he would have to go out.
If she planned to go out, he would busy himself with correspondence in his study.
To the household staff, their separate routines appeared perfectly natural.
Wealthy couples often maintained independent schedules, and Mr. Moore had always respected his wife’s business commitments.
Jane and the other servants saw nothing unusual in Mrs. Moore-Sullivan leaving early for the offices or Mr. Moore-Sullivan taking lengthy meetings with potential investors.
Even Vikram accepted the explanation that both his protectors were simply very busy with important work.
“Will Mrs. Moore-Sullivan be joining us for dinner tonight?” Vikram asked on the third evening, as he and Mr. Moore reviewed estate accounts in the dining room.
“I believe she has a late meeting with the dock foremen,” Mr. Moore replied casually, though his chest tightened with the familiar ache that had found shelter in his heart now. “She mentioned the cargo schedules need urgent attention.”
Vikram nodded, returning to his studies with characteristic focus. The boy had no reason to suspect that Mr. and Mrs. Moore-Sullivan were orchestrating their lives to avoid any chance of encounter. Or at least, that was what the boy let on.
The performance extended beyond the household, though.
When Mr. Moore visited the shipping offices, he came only on days when Kate was absent.
When Kate attended social functions related to the business, Mr. Moore sent his regrets, claiming prior commitments.
To their business associates, they appeared to be a busy couple managing multiple enterprises with admirable efficiency.
But beneath the planned choreography, both were suffering.
Mr. Moore could see it in Mary’s worried glances, in the way the housekeeper mentioned that Mrs. Moore-Sullivan was taking her meals at her desk again, working until exhaustion demanded sleep.
He caught glimpses of Kate’s handwriting on business correspondence left on his desk—usually steady and precise, now showing the slight tremor of someone under considerable strain.
His own facade was wearing thin. The sleepless nights spent wondering if Kate had read his letter, if she would ever respond, if she was planning her next move, were beginning to show. Mrs. Bartley, the long cooker, had already commented a couple of times on his sudden thinness.
And Vikram had repeatedly asked him if he was feeling alright.
On the morning of the fifth day, Mary appeared in Jason’s study with a particular gravity in her expression that made his heart race.
“Another message from Mrs. Moore-Sullivan?” he asked, searching for every tiny reaction on her face.
Mary held up two pieces of correspondence.
“An invitation arrived this morning from Lady Rutledge. She’s hosting a summer garden party next Saturday—quite the social event.
All of London society will be expected to attend.
” She paused, studying his face. “Mrs. Moore-Sullivan has already read the invitation and… she’s sent a response. ”
Jason’s heart hammered against his ribs as Mary extended Kate’s note. The familiar handwriting seemed to blur before his eyes as he read:
Dear Husband,
As you can see from Lady Rutledge’s invitation, we are requested to attend her garden party next Saturday afternoon. The entire shipping consortium will be present, along with half the peerage. Our absence would be noted and remarked upon.
I find myself in the awkward position of requiring your escort to this event. Society expects to see Mr. and Mrs. Moore-Sullivan together, and I cannot manufacture a husband from thin air, much as I might wish otherwise.
If you are willing to endure an afternoon of pretense, I suggest we meet tomorrow during daytime to coordinate our…
performance. I trust you will take extra care with your toilette.
Some of the ladies present have uncommonly sharp eyes for detail, and I would prefer not to explain any… irregularities in your appearance.
Please respond through Mary with your decision.
Your wife in name, K. Moore-Sullivan.
Jason read the message twice, caught between relief and trepidation. Kate’s tone was formal, almost businesslike, but there was a dry humor underneath that reminded him of the woman he had met from the beginning.
She was asking him to appear in public with her, to maintain their charade before all of London society. It would be their first time together since Yorkshire, the first test of whether they could still convince the world of their matrimonial contentment while privately existing as strangers.
“She’s giving you a choice,” Mary observed quietly.
Jason folded the letter carefully. “No,” he said, “She’s giving us both one last chance to prove we can still perform our roles convincingly. The question is whether I’m brave enough to risk failing her again.”
But even as he spoke, he knew his answer.
Whatever the cost, whatever the risk of exposure or humiliation, he would not abandon Kate to face society’s scrutiny alone.
If she needed Jason Moore-Sullivan for one more performance alongside her, then Jason Moore-Sullivan would appear—flawlessly groomed, impeccably mannered, and utterly devoted to his wife.
Even if it broke Gina’s heart to do it.