CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND NINETY SIX – THE WRONG UNIFORM

"It's utter madness, my love," he pleaded one evening as they stole a few precious moments together in a shadowed alcove. "Why would you leave all this behind? What possible hardships could you hope to escape?" Charlotte felt a pang of guilt as she met his beseeching gaze, so full of worry and bewilderment. How could she impart the bone-deep weariness that seemed to pervade her very spirit these days? The profound longing for a life removed from the relentless whirlwind of chaos? Instead, she simply laid a finger against his lips, willing him to silence with her eyes alone. Richard's brow furrowed, his features etched with concern and something deeper – a simmering anguish that tore at Charlotte's heart. For an endless moment, they simply held one another's gaze, a thousand unspoken words passing between them in the weighted silence. At length, Richard gave a resigned sigh, pressing his lips to her knuckles in a feather-light caress. "Very well, my darling," he murmured, his voice