Chapter 21
The morning after the fête arrived quieter than Alexander expected.
Ashbourne had returned to its usual rhythm, the excitement of the previous day replaced by the familiar sounds of servants moving through the halls and the steady responsibilities that came with managing an estate, yet despite the calm surrounding him, Alexander felt anything but settled.
He had spent much of the night awake, not because of the guests or the success of the fête, nor because of the endless compliments he had received about the gardens. None of that had mattered to him much, for he was not going to take pride in what he had not done.
Instead, he had been unable to sleep because of Eleanor.
The image of her dancing with Julian had remained with him long after the music ended.
He had tried to dismiss the feeling it caused, tried to convince himself that it was nothing more than irritation or misplaced pride, but he knew better.
It was jealousy, and he disliked how deeply it affected him.
Alexander walked along the near promenade, following the path that bordered the gardens.
His footsteps were softened by the damp earth beneath his boots, the morning rain leaving the grounds cool and fresh.
The scent of roses lingered heavily in the air, mingling with the fragrance of newly opened flowers that Eleanor had spent months cultivating.
Normally, the sight would have brought him some measure of peace, but that day his mind refused to be quiet. Every thought returned to the same question.
What did Eleanor truly want?
He had spent so long believing their arrangement protected them both. She had needed security, and he had provided it. He had needed a wife to fulfill his obligations, and she had agreed to the terms without complaint. It had been simple.
Except nothing about Eleanor had remained simple.
He had watched her smile at another man, and he had realized, far too late, that he wanted to be the reason for that smile. The thought made him stop briefly. He had no right to want such a thing; that was what troubled him most.
Eleanor had never deceived him. She had entered their marriage knowing exactly what he offered. If he suddenly wanted more from her and she did not want the same, then the fault lay not with her but with him. He had built the walls between them. He had insisted on distance, on boundaries.
And he could not be angry that she had learned how to live without crossing them. Alexander continued walking, though his thoughts remained unsettled. He was so distracted that he did not immediately notice the approaching voices until they reached him.
“Your Grace!”
He stopped. The voice alone was enough for him to know he wanted no part in what was to be said.
Alexander turned and found Lady Cordelia approaching along the path, accompanied by her maid and another lady from society.
She was the woman who had once been expected to become the Duchess of Ashbourne, the same woman who had shattered that future before he could ever decide whether he truly wanted it or not, and he had spent many hours wondering what she thought about it all, for he had never asked it.
And of all the people he might have encountered that morning, she was the last he wished to see.
“Lady Cordelia.”
Her smile appeared immediately.
“I am so pleased to see you. I hope I am not interrupting your walk.”
“You are not.”
Her gaze moved briefly beyond him toward the gardens before returning to his face.
Alexander wished that she was more upfront with her words, for already he knew he was to face a battle that he wanted no part in.
He was civil with the lady, for it was easier that way, but that did not mean he enjoyed their interactions, especially when she was always so reluctant to speak clearly of what she wanted.
“The fête was a great success. You must be so proud of yourself.”
The words were pleasant, but Alexander knew Cordelia well enough to recognize when something was hidden beneath them.
“Indeed, I am.”
“And your wife must be very pleased.”
There it was, the reason for the conversation.
“She is. I am most proud of her too”
Cordelia’s smile softened into something that might have appeared sympathetic to anyone who did not know her.
“I confess, I have been curious about her. I would love to know more of the lady that managed to drag you down the aisle. She must be quite remarkable to have made such an impression on Ashbourne in so short a time, too.”
It was a compliment, but one that carried something else beneath it. Alexander studied her, trying to decipher what she meant without having to ask her, for he wanted the conversation to be done with sooner rather than later.
“You seem very interested in my wife.”
Cordelia gave a small laugh.
“Oh, do not mistake my curiosity for anything unkind. I only wonder about her.”
“And what are you wondering?”
Her eyes flickered with amusement.
“Many things, as with every other person that lives here. After all, what sort of woman could inspire such devotion from a man who was once so determined never to marry?”
“Devotion is a strong word.”
“Is it?” Cordelia tilted her head. “I only meant that you appear different. I tried to tell you as much at the fête, but you were not listening. You hardly ever listen these days. Instead, you always seem to be thinking about the same thing.”
“I am not certain I understand.”
“Perhaps that is because you have not noticed it yourself.”
Alexander remained silent. Cordelia stepped slightly closer, lowering her voice as though sharing something private.
“You always seemed so certain of what you wanted, Alexander,” she whispered as her eyes moved briefly toward the gardens. “And yet here you are, married to a woman who spends her days tending flowers and charming villagers. That is not exactly what one envisions when they think of a duchess.”
There was a faint edge to the words, and Alexander recognized it immediately.
“Be careful, Cordelia.”
“Careful?”
“You are speaking of my wife. Remember that.”
For a moment, something unreadable crossed her face. Surprise, he considered, or even disappointment, but it was not long at all before the familiar smile returned.
“Of course. I mean no offense, of course. I suppose I am predisposed to speak to you the way we once did, but then you have changed since then. Perhaps I ought to do the same thing. In any case, I truly do hope that you are both happy.”
“We are.”
“Good. I would hate for a fellow lady to choose someone that did not make her happier than she ever thought she could be.”
Alexander knew better than to believe she was being completely honest, but he also knew that Cordelia’s words bothering him had less to do with her and more to do with the doubts already taking root inside him.
Because beneath the irritation was a question he could not silence. Had Eleanor truly chosen him, or had she simply accepted the life he offered because she had nowhere else to go?
And if that was the case, did he even deserve anything more from her?
“How is your wife this morning, by the way? Events can be overwhelming, after all.”
It was an innocent question on the surface, the sort of thing one might ask another acquaintance in passing, yet Alexander knew Cordelia too well to believe there was nothing beneath it. She had always possessed a talent for disguising criticism beneath carefully chosen words.
For a moment, he hesitated. He disliked that he hesitated at all. Eleanor was his wife, so the answer should have been simple, and yet he had avoided her that morning, so he did not know.
“She is well,” he replied at last.
Cordelia watched him closely, too closely, and then a faint smile touched her lips, and Alexander immediately disliked it.
“How reassuring.”
The words were pleasant, but there was something sharp beneath them.
“She seems to have adjusted remarkably quickly,” Cordelia continued. “Though I suppose one must adapt when circumstances demand it.”
“I am not certain what you mean.”
Cordelia gave a soft laugh.
“Oh, Alexander. Surely you cannot pretend you do not understand.”
Her maid and companion had moved a short distance away, leaving them enough privacy for the conversation to appear harmless to anyone observing. Cordelia stepped closer.
“Marriage is a difficult thing when two people enter into it for duty alone.”
Alexander remained silent. He knew exactly where the conversation was going, and scolded himself for allowing it to begin in the first place.
“And even more difficult,” she continued, “when neither person expected affection to be part of the arrangement.”
Alexander wondered how it had been noticed by someone that he had tried so hard to keep at a distance before even he himself had seen it. Not only that, but it made him realize that Eleanor had to have noticed his feelings, too, and if she had not said anything…
Cordelia noticed, of course. She had always been skilled at finding weaknesses.
“Such marriages can be terribly draining,” she said softly. “Living beside someone who feels like a stranger, performing happiness for society while knowing there is nothing deeper beneath it, it is all far too much for anyone to bear.”
Alexander’s jaw tightened. The image she painted was one he refused to accept, for that was only how things had been at the beginning of his marriage, before Eleanor had entered his life more fully.
He wanted to dismiss Cordelia. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that Eleanor was not trapped and their marriage was not empty. He wanted to protest that what existed between them was something far more complicated than Cordelia could understand, but the words did not come immediately.
And that silence disturbed him.
“I imagine it cannot be easy for her,” she added.
Alexander looked at her sharply.
“Do not presume to know what my wife feels.”
The response came quicker than he expected. Cordelia’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
“There is the defensiveness again.”
“I will not allow anyone who does not know my marriage to assume anything, and assumptions are all you have made.”
“Is that so?”
Her question was quiet, more curious than mocking. That made it worse. Alexander looked away toward the gardens, refusing to acknowledge that the most infuriating part was not that Cordelia had spoken; it was that she had given voice to doubts he had already been carrying.
He hated that Cordelia’s words had found a place to settle.
“She does not strike me as a woman who is easily broken,” Alexander said finally.
Cordelia studied him.
“No, she does not. It is certainly an admirable trait.”
There was something strange in the way she said it. It was almost like she was showing her approval.
“But even the strongest people can become tired of fighting,” she said with a sigh. “And when that happens, there is nothing that can be done to fix it.”
Alexander’s gaze returned to her. For a moment, he saw not the woman who had grown up beside him, but someone attempting to reopen an old wound because she knew exactly where it was.
He stepped back slightly.
“This conversation is over.”
Cordelia smiled faintly, seeming to sense the uncertainty she had created and, rather than allowing the conversation to end, pressed forward.
“If you truly cared for her,” she said quietly, “you would not keep her bound to a life that brings her no happiness.”
Alexander turned back toward her. The words were spoken gently, and that made them far more dangerous, as he could not simply claim to be angered by what she had said because of her tone.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Do not misunderstand me. I am not accusing you of cruelty. I know you, Alexander. You have always been a man of honor, for better or for worse. You would never intentionally hurt someone, which is why I cannot imagine you would wish for a woman to remain in a marriage where she feels trapped. It is not like you, and I cannot help but wonder why you are allowing it to happen.”
A cold weight settled in his chest. For a moment, he simply stared at her. He should have dismissed it; he should have laughed at the sheer absurdity of it and told her she was utterly clueless. After all, Cordelia did not know Eleanor.
She did not know the conversations they had shared, the moments of understanding that had begun to form between them, and the quiet ways Eleanor had changed Ashbourne simply by being there.
She had no right to decide what existed between them, yet the certainty in Cordelia’s voice unsettled him. He thought back on all of the times he had been watching his wife, looking for a sign that she felt something, be it positive or negative.
He had never been able to come to a conclusion, because one moment she seemed perfectly happy with her life, and then the next he swore that it was only resignation that he saw.
Alexander’s thoughts tangled together. When they had spent time together, had she been trying to tell him she was unhappy? Had she been trying to tell him she regretted their marriage? The uncertainty was unbearable.
Cordelia watched him carefully.
“If you are the man I always believed you to be,” she continued, “then you will not allow pride or duty to keep her somewhere she does not wish to remain. You are an honorable man, but perhaps it is time that you remember that sometimes doing the honorable thing means letting go.”
Alexander looked away so that she would not see him grimacing. If Cordelia was right, then the honorable thing was not to hold onto Eleanor. It was to release her.
The thought left him feeling strangely hollow. He looked away, unable to find an answer, because how could he defend himself when he was no longer certain what he was defending?
“I think this conversation has gone on long enough.”
His voice was colder than he intended. Cordelia’s eyes searched his for a moment, but this time she did not stop him.
“Of course.”
Alexander offered a brief nod before turning away.
He walked back toward the house without looking behind him.
The garden paths he had crossed moments before seemed different.
The roses that had filled the air with their scent no longer brought him the same sense of peace, and the beauty Eleanor had created only reminded him of the question he could not escape.
Had she brought life to Ashbourne while quietly losing her own?
The words followed him with every step. He wanted to tell himself that Cordelia had only spoken out of bitterness, that she had no understanding of his marriage or his wife, but the doubt had already taken root.
And even though it was the very last thing that he wanted to happen, Alexander wondered if the greatest kindness he could offer her was not asking her to stay.