Chapter 10
The household had been unsettled since word spread that a guest was arriving, though no one spoke of it directly to Eleanor.
She felt it instead in the way servants moved through the entrance hall with sharper urgency than usual, and by the way she tried to listen in on conversations to learn just who was to visit, even though it solved nothing.
By the time she stood beside the butler in the entrance hall, she had been told only that a visitor of importance was expected, though no further detail had been offered, and Alexander had remained silent on the matter entirely.
Thornton gave a final instruction to a footman before the carriage wheels came to a stop outside.
“Prepare yourself, Your Grace,” he said calmly. “He has arrived.”
Eleanor kept her posture composed, though her attention sharpened as the doors were opened.
“Who exactly is it?” she asked quietly, though Thornton only nodded slightly in response, offering nothing further.
“I am afraid that is for the duke to explain,” he replied, his tone even but deliberately closed. “They were companions, and His Grace thinks highly of him, but I should not say anything more than that.”
Eleanor wished, briefly, that Thornton’s role was to be loyal to her rather than her husband. That was only for a moment, however, for then the doors opened fully, and the man stepped down.
Eleanor’s breath caught so sharply that she immediately lost focus of everything around her.
Her voice failed her before she could form a thought, and when she finally managed to speak, it came out fractured and unsteady.
“No…that cannot be…”
Julian Sinclair looked up at the sound of her voice, and for a brief moment, his own composure faltered completely.
“Eleanor?” he said, his tone breaking through the formal distance he had clearly intended to maintain.
Alexander stepped forward from somewhere Eleanor had not seen immediately.
“Do you know him?” he asked.
Eleanor forced herself to breathe, though her gaze remained fixed on Julian.
“Yes,” she said quietly, before correcting herself under pressure. “I mean…I did, but it was a long time ago.”
Julian’s eyes did not leave her as he spoke again. “I did not expect to see you here.”
“Nor I you,” she said, before immediately regretting the sharpness of it.
Alexander’s gaze shifted between them. “Explain,” he said simply.
Julian let out a slow breath before answering, though his attention flickered back to Eleanor as he spoke.
“We knew each other,” he said. “It was years ago.”
“There is nothing to explain,” she said at the same time, though even she did not sound convinced by her own words.
Julian stepped closer then, ignoring the tension entirely as if it belonged to another conversation.
“Eleanor,” he said again, more softly.
“Do not,” she said immediately, her voice sharpening as she took a step back. “You have no right to be here.”
The words hung between them, and for a moment, Julian said nothing at all.
“I have sometimes wondered what it might be like to see you again.” He sighed. “I was not expecting it to feel like this.”
Eleanor laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
“How exactly did you expect it to feel?”
Before he could answer, his hand reached for hers. It was not forceful, only familiar in the worst possible way, as though his body had not forgotten what her words were trying to deny.
“Eleanor,” he said again, “look at me.”
“I am looking at you,” she said, though her voice trembled as his fingers closed around hers.
The contact hit her with immediate force, collapsing years of distance into a single sensation she could not defend herself against. Her eyes shut involuntarily as memory surged forward without permission, dragging her back into something she had long since buried.
“No,” she whispered under her breath, though it sounded less like refusal and more like a warning.
When she opened her eyes again, reality returned sharply enough to make her pull her hand away in one abrupt motion.
“Do not touch me,” she said, her voice low but unsteady as she stepped back fully.
The silence that followed was heavy, stretching between all three of them without resolution. Mercifully, Thornton’s voice eventually cut through it.
“Tea has been prepared in the parlor.”
No one responded at first, but movement eventually resumed out of necessity rather than willingness.
In the parlor, the space felt too confined. Eleanor sat rigidly at the table, aware of Julian at one end and Alexander beside her, both men watching her in different ways. Julian broke the silence first, and his tone was carefully controlled.
“I did not come here expecting this,” he said, looking directly at Eleanor.
Alexander’s voice followed immediately.
“And yet you are here.”
Eleanor placed her teacup down, and it was firmer than she planned.
The clink of porcelain against the saucer felt too sharp in the quiet room, and Eleanor found herself focusing intently on the act of pouring, as though the precision alone might anchor her in something steady.
Her hands trembled slightly as she lifted the pot, though she tightened her grip and forced herself to continue without comment, aware of Alexander seated beside her and the weight of his attention even without looking directly at him.
Suddenly, Julian cleared his throat in what seemed to be an attempt to change the subject altogether.
“The war did not end without its share of satisfaction,” Julian said, lifting his cup slightly as though in toast. “There were victories worth remembering, at least.”
Alexander did not respond immediately, his gaze still fixed forward in a way that made it unclear whether he was choosing silence or simply withholding something. Julian continued after a brief pause, attempting again to draw him into the conversation.
“You were there for it,” he added, a faint smile appearing as though to soften the subject. “You know as well as I do what was achieved.”
“It is not something I wish to dwell on,” Alexander replied at last.
Julian exhaled lightly, as though accepting the boundary, though he did not fully let it drop.
“Of course,” he said, shifting slightly in his seat. “Still, it is strange to sit here and speak of it as though it belongs to another life entirely.”
The conversation faltered after that, settling into an uneven rhythm of half-finished remarks and brief, awkward silences that never quite resolved themselves.
Julian attempted to redirect the tone more than once, speaking of trivial matters such as his journey, the weather, and the condition of the roads leading to the estate, though each attempt landed flat against the weight of what remained unspoken.
Occasionally, his gaze would go toward Eleanor as he spoke, but she remained carefully composed, offering no encouragement and no visible reaction beyond polite stillness. He was not there for her. He was there because he had been in battle with her husband, and that was how it would remain.
Eleanor kept her attention fixed on the tea in front of her, though she was also still aware of Alexander beside her.
His gaze did not waver from her for long at any point, and she could feel it tracking even the smallest shift in her face, as though he were attempting to understand something that Eleanor had not grasped herself.
Eventually, Julian set his cup down with a quiet exhale, the earlier attempt at ease finally giving way.
“I should not intrude further upon your household this evening,” he said, rising from his seat. “I will go and see to my things, and allow you both some peace.”
Alexander did not move.
“You are excused,” he replied evenly.
Julian gave a slight bow, though his eyes lingered on Eleanor for a moment longer than was comfortable.
“Eleanor,” he said quietly, before stopping himself, as though reconsidering whatever he had intended to add.
Instead, he simply turned and left the room.
Eleanor exhaled at once, the breath she had been holding releasing before she had fully registered it.
The relief was immediate and instinctive, though it did not ease the tension that remained in the room.
If anything, the silence that followed felt heavier than before, as though his absence had only sharpened what was already present between them.
Alexander stayed seated at first, but his gaze remained fixed on her with an intensity that made the air feel tighter with every passing moment.
Eleanor kept her eyes lowered toward the tea service, focusing on the small, careful movements of her hands as she straightened the cup and saucer that no longer needed adjusting.
The awareness of his attention pressed against her steadily, and when she finally looked up, she found that he had not softened in the slightest.
There was nothing openly accusatory in the way he was looking at her, but there was something in it that told her he was unhappy with her.
“So you knew one another,” he said at last.
Eleanor hesitated, then adjusted the teacup on its saucer once again.
“Yes,” she said quietly, though the simplicity of it did little to explain anything at all.
“And you did not think that was worth mentioning?”
“You say that as though I knew who was to arrive,” she replied, keeping her tone controlled despite the tension rising in her chest. “Besides, it was a long time ago. It has no bearing on anything here.”
“Does it not?” he asked.
“No,” she said, though even she could hear the strain beneath it.
The silence that followed stretched until it became difficult to endure. When he spoke again, his tone had cooled and become much more distant.
“See that you are prepared for tomorrow’s arrangements,” he said evenly, rising from his seat. “I will not have anything distracting you from your duties.”
“There are no distractions,” she replied, though her voice was quieter than before.
Alexander did not respond immediately. Instead, he looked at her for a moment longer, as though weighing something unspoken, before turning away.