Chapter 10 #2
“Excuse me,” he said at last, and left the room without waiting for a reply.
Eleanor remained seated for a moment, the absence doing little to ease the tension that lingered in her chest. Eventually, she stood and left the parlor herself, seeking the one place in the estate that still felt like it belonged to her in any meaningful way.
She intended to draw for a while, hoping that it might distract her even if that was only temporary.
The garden was quieter than the house, though not entirely still.
The late light softened the edges of the estate, and Eleanor moved through the familiar paths with slow, measured steps as she attempted to steady her thoughts.
She paused near one of the beds she had been redesigning, and she took out her sketchbook as she reviewed her earlier notes for the upcoming ball.
Floral arrangements, pathways, and decorative structures filled the pages, and in spite of the issue at hand, she could not help but feel a sense of pride when she looked at her work.
Her focus wavered more than once, Julian’s presence still lingering in her thoughts, but she forced herself to continue, pressing her pencil to the paper.
It was only when a shadow fell across her that she looked up.
Julian stood a short distance away, having approached without her noticing. Before she could speak, he stepped forward and took her hand once again, this time without hesitation or question.
Eleanor’s breath caught immediately.
“Do not,” she said quietly, though there was no force behind it, only a warning.
He did not release her. Instead, he turned her hand gently in his and lowered his head, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss against her knuckles. The gesture was careful, almost restrained, but it carried too much familiarity to feel harmless.
When he finally looked up, his voice was quieter than before.
“You look well,” he said.
Eleanor withdrew her hand then, more firmly this time.
“That is not what you came here to say,” she replied. “And yes, I am very well.”
“Perhaps it is not,” he admitted with a faint laugh, though he did not elaborate further. “I am pleased that you are well here. I must say, I did not expect to find you here like this.”
“And what exactly did you expect?” she asked. “It is not as though nobody knows that I am the duchess now.”
“I had not heard about that. I had expected you to still be in your family home.”
Eleanor closed her sketchbook slowly.
“Then you will have to adjust your expectations,” she said.
Julian did not respond immediately; he only watched her for a moment longer as the distance between what had been and what remained firmly divided.
Eleanor pulled her hand back fully, the gesture sharper than she intended as she stepped away from Julian, her pulse quickening in a way she could not immediately control.
The air between them felt too charged, too full of things neither of them had chosen to name aloud, and she turned slightly as though to put distance between herself and the moment before it could deepen any further.
It was at that exact moment that movement at the edge of the garden caught her attention.
Alexander was standing there.
Eleanor straightened at once, forcing herself to appear composed, though she knew immediately that she was too late. The flush in her cheeks betrayed her before she could properly steady herself, and she felt the weight of Alexander’s gaze lock onto her.
His attention moved between her and Julian in a single controlled sweep, sharp enough that it made the space between them feel suddenly smaller. He stepped forward, his voice cutting through the quiet air.
“What is going on here?” he asked, the question controlled but edged with something far more dangerous beneath it.
Eleanor opened her mouth to answer, but no words came immediately, her thoughts still tangled from the exchange she had just left behind.
Julian did not speak either, and instead he shifted his attention toward Alexander.
The tension between them sharpened further before it was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching along the gravel path.
A servant appeared at the edge of the garden, pausing briefly as though sensing the atmosphere, before speaking carefully.
“Your Grace,” the servant said. “Dinner is ready in the dining room.”
The words broke what had been building between them without resolving any of it. Alexander did not immediately respond, though the set of his jaw suggested the interruption had not eased anything.
Eleanor lowered her gaze slightly, suddenly aware of how tightly her hands were clenched, and how difficult it had become to breathe evenly. Julian stepped back a fraction, and an uneasy silence followed as the servant withdrew, leaving the three of them standing there.
Eleanor felt the weight of it settle more heavily than before, and as she turned slightly toward the house, a quiet, sinking feeling formed in her chest that she could not explain even to herself.
If Alexander knew of their past, it would inevitably cause a divide in some way, and there had been enough of that.
Her heart felt heavier than it had when she first arrived, and she hated that she had to keep the reason for it a secret from her husband.