Even in the dim I could tell he was handsome. His tight curls were cropped close, even closer on the sides and the back, and edged carefully along the hairline. He had cheekbones like smoothed stone, a nose wide and symmetrical, laugh lines that seemed to worship the smile they graced. And if his rich brown skin was as angelic in daylight as by the simple highlight of a candle, I was almost afraid I wouldn’t survive the next few months.

He was beautiful, and it suddenly struck me that maybe he would care that I wasn’t.

“Andromeda?” The man pushed a few scrolls aside and stood. “Welcome. Come, sit.”

“Will others be joining us?” I asked.

“Soon, I hope. But it’s all right, we can start without them.” He gestured to the table of steaming food. “You must be hungry from your journey.”

I approached the table, stopping an appropriate few feet away. He wore a silver amulet around his neck, similar to mine—thin and flat with all the usual etchings and colorful thread wraps one would expect on an all-purpose amulet. He was wiser than Peggy, at least.

We stood like that for a few long seconds, his warm smile slowly slipping to stiff and polite, and I suddenly realized that a respectable man didn’t just presume to touch a woman he didn’t know. I stuck out my hand, and he shook it gently, and then I sidestepped defensively, my muscles tight but ready to act as he … pulled out my chair for me. I swallowed, my face warm with embarrassment. You’re not on the streets anymore. No one wants to attack you. No one wants to take your things. I quickly sat, bowing my head so he wouldn’t see my blush, and let him push my seat in. I even managed to hold still as he placed a wool blanket across my shoulders.

“We’ll have to attend to our own needs tonight.” The man—who had to be none other than Mr. Rochester—took his seat again and shifted a small basin in front of me. I held my palms over it silently as he poured water over them. “There aren’t many servants, despite the size. Not many people are willing to work for a cursed household.”

Servants. I’d never even had a mother. But I nodded politely as he handed me a small towel. “I’m adaptable.”

“Good. You never know what will happen in this— Oh.” He looked a little surprised, and then there was that dazzling smile as I shifted the basin in front of him. Guests didn’t normally wash the hands of the host, but we had limited options. “Thank you.”

I washed his hands, he dried them, and then he prayed over the food.

“I hope you don’t mind my asking,” Mr. Rochester said, “but why is it that Jember didn’t send you away with a reference letter?”