Chapter 8 Possession
Chapter eight
Possession
Aubrey lay in the silence after Eleanor's departure, staring at the ceiling, his mind churning.
Steven Kedleston. He was someone close, trusted, who could visit without raising suspicion.
The name tasted bitter in his mouth, but Eleanor's denial had seemed so genuine.
Aubrey shifted against the pillows, wincing at the pull in his hip. Had Rose been mistaken? Or had she purposely… No, he would not doubt Rose. Rose had loved him, had wept in his arms but had been driven away by threats and money.
Aubrey was still working through this logic when the door flew open without ceremony. Mr Davies hovered in the background, looking apologetic.
"Aubrey! Good God, man, you look dreadful!"
Robert Wavell strode into the room with his characteristic lack of awareness for appropriate visiting hours or the privacy of invalids. He was dressed for travel, his greatcoat still dusted with road dirt, his cheerful face ruddy from the cold.
"Robert." Aubrey tried to push himself up, failed, gave up. "What the devil are you doing here?"
"Heard you'd taken a spectacular tumble in Hyde Park. Thought I'd stop by and see if you'd managed to break your neck." Robert pulled up a chair without invitation and sat, studying Aubrey with undisguised curiosity. "You haven't, clearly, though you look like death warmed over. What happened?"
"I fell off my horse."
"Yes, I know that much. The rumours are flying, you know. Some say you were drunk. Others say you were racing. Lady Avon's nephew swears you were attempting a jump that would kill a sane man." Robert grinned. "Which is it?"
"None of those." Aubrey shifted, pain lancing through his hip. "I was... distracted."
"Distracted enough to nearly kill yourself? Must have been quite the distraction." Robert's eyes gleamed with interest. "A woman?"
Aubrey said nothing, which Robert correctly interpreted as confirmation.
"Ah. The mysterious Rose, I assume? Still pining, are we?" Robert shook his head. "You really should give that up, old boy. The girl took the money and left. Time to move on."
"She did not—" Aubrey stopped himself. "Why are you here, Robert? Surely you did not come all the way to Hertfordshire just to insult my romantic attachments."
"Of course not. I'm on my way to the family estate.
Mother insists on having the entire clan gather for Christmas this year.
All my brothers, their wives, their squalling children—absolute nightmare.
" Robert grimaced. "I'd much rather be in London.
There's a party at the York's on the fifteenth that promises to be delightfully scandalous. But duty calls and all that."
"So you stopped here to complain to me about your family obligations while I lie here unable to walk?"
"Precisely!" Robert slapped his knee cheerfully. "Misery loves company and all that. Though I must say, your situation seems considerably worse than mine. How long are you trapped here?"
"Three weeks at minimum before I can bear weight. Six before I can walk properly."
Robert whistled. "In this house? With your estranged wife?" He laughed. "That must be awkward."
"You have no idea."
"Is she caring for you? I can't imagine Lady Madeley is pleased about this arrangement. You've not exactly been an attentive husband."
Something akin to guilt washed over him. "She is... managing the situation."
"Well, she would, wouldn't she? Terribly proper, your wife. Bit of a bluestocking, if I'm honest." Robert settled more comfortably in his chair. "Ran into her in town a few months back. She was with that Kedleston fellow—you know him, surely? Steven Kedleston, neighbours with your estate here?"
Aubrey rubbed his temple to hide the irritation. "I am aware of who he is."
"Right, right. Well, they were discussing something dreadfully dull.
Orphanage accounts, I think? Or perhaps parish budgets?
I stopped listening after the first minute.
Nearly put me to sleep standing there." Robert shook his head.
"Can't imagine how Kedleston stands it. Though I suppose he's rather dull himself, so perhaps they suit. "
"They were alone together?" Aubrey heard himself ask. "In London?"
"Hmm? Oh, no, there were others about. Some committee meeting or other.
Lady Madeley had organised it, apparently.
She's revolutionized the parish charity, from what my mother says.
Has them running like a military operation.
" Robert laughed. "Mother's terrified of her, actually.
Says your wife has a way of looking at accounts that makes grown men and women squirm. "
Aubrey blinked. "Your mother is terrified of Eleanor?"
"Well, not terrified precisely. More... respectfully wary.
Lady Madeley doesn't tolerate inefficiency, apparently.
" Robert stretched his legs out. "Anyway, the point is, she spends all her time with ledgers and orphans.
Can't imagine she has time for anything improper, even if she wanted to.
Which she doesn't seem to, based on how she talks. All duty and propriety, that one."
Something in Aubrey's chest loosened slightly. "I see."
"Though Kedleston's been carrying a torch for her since they were children, everyone knows that." Robert said it casually, as though commenting on the weather. "Follows her about like a puppy when she's in company. Rather pathetic, really. But she doesn't seem to notice."
"She is dining with him tonight," Aubrey said, the words coming out more sharply than he intended.
Robert raised his eyebrows. "Is she? Well, that's not surprising. They're practically family, from what I understand. His mother and Lady Madeley's mother are great friends.
Family. Neighbours. Childhood friends.
Exactly what Eleanor had said.
But Rose had been so certain. Had spoken of Eleanor's lover with such conviction.
Could she have been deceiving him all along?
Perhaps Rose had been mistaken about the identity of Eleanor's supposed lover. Perhaps she had heard gossip about Eleanor and Steven Kedleston and assumed it meant more than it did.
That was possible but unlikely. Unless she had misinterpreted innocent friendship as something more scandalous.
Yes. That made sense.
Aubrey felt his certainty settling back into place. Rose had not lied. She had simply been mistaken about certain details. The core truth remained: Eleanor had wanted Rose gone and had threatened her family.
"You've gone very quiet," Robert observed. "Are you in pain? Should I call for a servant?"
"No. I am... thinking."
"Dangerous occupation in your condition." Robert stood, brushing off his coat. "I should be going. Mother will have my head if I'm late for dinner. But I'm glad you're not dead, old boy. Would have been a terrible waste."
"Your concern is touching."
"Isn't it?" Robert moved toward the door, then paused. "Oh, I’m hosting a New Year’s Eve dinner. Come. Bring your wife."
After Robert left, Aubrey lay in the darkness, trying to sort through his thoughts.
He did not care about Eleanor's relationship with Steven Kedleston. He did not.
Aubrey had married her under duress, had never wanted her, would never want her. What she did with her time, who she dined with, was no concern of his.
Except...
Except he was still her husband. And she was still his wife. And regardless of his personal feelings, he had a reputation to maintain. A position in society. A husband’s dalliance was tolerated, but a wife’s?
If Eleanor were to conduct an affair openly, that would reflect poorly on him. On his family. On their name.
It was not about Eleanor specifically. It was about principle and male pride. Yes, that was all it was. Nothing more.
Because caring about Eleanor beyond the basic territorial instinct of any husband would mean admitting he might have been wrong about her.
Which meant he’d been wrong about Rose.
And Aubrey was not ready to admit that.