Chapter 23
Alexander had always believed himself capable of separating duty from emotion. It was one of the few things he had trusted about himself.
No matter what happened in his personal life, no matter what doubts or frustrations followed him, there had always been the endless list of responsibilities that required his attention and left little room for anything else.
Ashbourne did not care if he was uncertain. The tenants still required answers, the accounts still needed reviewing, and the staff still needed direction, so Alexander did what he had always done.
He worked.
“The eastern fields will need inspecting before the end of the week,” he instructed Mr. Fletcher, the steward, as they stood in the estate office. “The recent rain may have affected the drainage near the lower boundary.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“And have the repairs to the tenant cottages been completed?”
“The majority, yes. There are two remaining that require additional materials.”
“See that they are prioritized.”
The steward made a note. Alexander continued through the list, forcing his attention onto each matter as it was presented, yet no matter how much he tried, his thoughts kept returning to the same words.
Cordelia’s voice had followed him since their conversation. He hated that it had. He hated that the words had found a weakness he had not known existed, because now every interaction with Eleanor seemed to carry a new meaning.
“Your Grace?”
Alexander looked up to see that Mr. Fletcher was watching him carefully.
“I apologize,” Alexander said. “Continue.”
“You seem distracted.”
“I have a great deal to consider.”
“Of course.”
The older man’s tone was respectful, but Alexander knew him well enough to understand the concern behind it.
“I assure you, the estate is not suffering.”
“I was not referring to the estate, Your Grace.”
Alexander looked back down at the papers before him. Everyone around him seemed to see what he refused to acknowledge.
Something was wrong, and he had no idea how to fix it.
***
By midday, Alexander found himself unable to remain inside. The walls of Ashbourne had begun to feel too confining, every room holding reminders of Eleanor. He had no answer for her, not because he did not care, but because he cared too much.
He made his way toward the stables, grateful for the familiar sounds that greeted him. For a brief moment, the weight in his chest eased. Animals did not hide their feelings, and they did not force him to question every word and every silence.
Then he heard approaching hoofbeats.
Alexander turned, and his brief relief disappeared. Julian Sinclair rode into the courtyard, and the sight immediately brought back the tension he had been trying to escape.
But before Alexander could prepare himself for the usual confidence, the teasing remarks, or the careless smile Julian often wore, he noticed something else. There was concern in the man’s eyes, a seriousness Alexander rarely saw.
Julian dismounted and handed the reins to one of the stable hands before approaching.
“Alexander.”
“Julian.”
The greeting was polite, but neither man moved. Alexander studied him.
“What brings you here?”
Julian glanced briefly toward the house.
“I was just returning from a ride.”
“You seem troubled.”
Julian gave a faint smile.
“It is interesting that you should say that.”
“What does that mean?”
Julian hesitated. For once, he did not seem eager to provoke him. Alexander remained silent. The old instinct to dismiss him rose immediately, but Julian’s expression stopped him. There was no arrogance there, no amusement.
In fact, he was strangely genuine.
“I saw Eleanor earlier.”
The name alone was enough to make Alexander tense.
“Did you?”
Julian nodded slowly.
“She does not seem like herself.”
Alexander’s chest tightened. He hated how quickly the words affected him.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean she seems unhappy.”
The answer landed harder than Alexander wanted to admit. He immediately thought of Cordelia, of her accusations.
“I will not claim to know every last one of her feelings,” Julian sighed, “but I know Eleanor, and I know what she looks like when she is trying to convince everyone she is fine.”
Alexander followed his gaze. The windows of Ashbourne reflected the afternoon light, and somewhere inside those walls was Eleanor, the woman he had promised to protect and might have failed.
“I think,” Julian continued quietly, “that perhaps you should speak to her.”
Alexander looked back at him. The suggestion was unexpected.
“Why do you care what I do?”
“Because in spite of everything, I do care about her. I hope you do not make the same mistake I did.”
The honesty of the answer left Alexander silent.
“You look exhausted,” Julian said quietly.
Alexander gave him a guarded look.
“I am managing.”
“Are you?”
The question was not asked with his usual teasing confidence. Instead, Julian’s voice carried a softness that made the words feel almost sincere.
“I cannot imagine what this must be like for you. It cannot be easy to have everything you believed was settled suddenly become uncertain, and to realize that the person beside you may not feel the same way you do.”
Alexander stiffened.
“I never said I felt—”
“You do not have to. I have known you a long time, Alexander. You have never been easy to read, but I know when something is troubling you.”
Alexander looked away. He hated that Julian was right.
He hated even more that he wanted someone to understand.
“I do not know what to think anymore,” Alexander admitted after a moment.
The confession felt strange. He rarely spoke of uncertainty, not with anyone. Julian remained quiet, allowing him to continue.
“I thought I was doing what was right. When I married Eleanor, I wanted to give her security, and a position where no one could question her place in society. Now I wonder if I only gave her a different kind of cage.”
The words were painful to admit.
“What if she feels trapped?” he asked. “What if every day she spends here reminds her that she has no freedom? What if I have become exactly what I promised myself I would never be?”
“I cannot imagine you ever wanting to hurt her.”
“That does not mean I have not. A loveless marriage can become its own kind of punishment.”
For the briefest moment, something flickered in Julian’s expression.
“You have always been harder on yourself than anyone else, but perhaps you have noticed what I have noticed.”
Alexander looked at him.
“What is that?”
Julian hesitated just long enough that he sounded reluctant to speak.
“Eleanor has been unhappy for some time. I think anyone who knows her can see it.”
“That is not true.”
Julian raised his hands slightly.
“I am not saying she despises you. I am saying she has struggled. She has always been too kind to say what she truly feels. That has always been one of her greatest qualities.”
Julian paused.
“And perhaps one of her greatest burdens.”
Alexander felt a coldness settle in his chest.
“What has she said to you?”
The question escaped before he could stop it. Julian looked away briefly. Nothing about the movement suggested hesitation. It suggested restraint, as though he were reluctant to betray a confidence.
“I do not wish to cause further pain between you.”
“Julian.”
The warning in Alexander’s voice was unmistakable. Julian sighed.
“She has not spoken cruelly of you. She has only admitted that this marriage has not been easy.”
Alexander’s jaw tightened.
“What else?”
Julian looked back at him.
“She misses the life she thought she would have. She misses feeling wanted.”
Alexander stared at him.
“And you have been comforting her?”
Julian’s expression softened.
“I have tried to.”
Anger stirred beneath Alexander’s confusion.
“Why?”
“Because I saw someone struggling. You may not believe me, but I do not wish to see Eleanor unhappy. I have known her for too long to allow her to be hurt.”
The mention of their history was deliberate. Alexander was certain of that, though he did not know quite why Julian would make a point of it.
“And your feelings for her?”
Julian was quiet for a moment. Then he gave a small, almost sad smile.
“Alexander, that was a long time ago. I cared for her deeply once. I will not deny that, but I am not the foolish boy I was before.”
He looked toward the gardens.
“I do not want to take her away from you. I only want her to be happy. That is why I have encouraged her to see that she does not have to force herself into a life that brings her no joy.”
A chill ran through Alexander, and he could not stop the rage from bubbling up.
“You encouraged her to leave?”
“Not leave. Not exactly. You have misunderstood what I am saying.”
“Have I?”
“Yes. I have not told her to leave her home and marriage. I only suggested that she be honest with herself, and that will be for the benefit of you both.”
Alexander’s hands curled into fists.
“What does that mean?”
“It means she has been trying very hard to convince herself she can accept this marriage. She has been trying to make herself content because she does not want to disappoint you, and that is no way for either of you to live.”
Alexander felt as though the ground beneath him had shifted.
“No.”
Julian looked at him sadly.
“I know it is difficult to hear.”
“No,” Alexander repeated more firmly. “You are wrong.”
Julian did not argue. Instead, he simply looked at him with understanding.
“I hope I am. I truly do.”
Alexander looked toward the house again, toward the rooms where Eleanor lived. She had cried in front of him and asked what was wrong, only for him to walk away, and he could not begin to put into words how wracked with guilt he was because of that.
The possibility that Julian’s words were true made something inside him ache, because if Eleanor had been pretending all this time, then he had not protected her after all. He had only trapped her more carefully.
Julian placed a hand briefly on his shoulder. It was a gesture of friendship, but it felt wrong.
“I am sorry, old friend.”
Alexander looked at him.
“For what?”
“For the fact that sometimes doing what is honorable means accepting that someone you love may be happier without you.”
The words lingered. Alexander did not answer, because he did not know whether he was angry at Julian for saying them or terrified because some part of him believed them.
He had spent his entire life trusting his own judgment.
He had survived battlefields because he knew how to read situations, how to distinguish truth from deception, and how to make decisions when there was no room for uncertainty.
Yet standing in the stable yard with Julian beside him, Alexander felt that certainty slipping away.
Julian knew Eleanor. That was the part he could not ignore. Julian had known her before she came to Ashbourne. He had known the girl Eleanor had been. He was someone she had trusted, the person she had once cared for.
And Alexander? He had only known the woman who arrived at his estate carrying expectations, fears, and a lifetime of disappointment.
“What if you are right?” Alexander asked quietly.
“I do not want to be.”
“But what if you are? What if I have convinced myself that I was giving her a better life, when all I have done is ask her to sacrifice the one she wanted?”
Julian remained silent for a moment.
“You said she has struggled.”
Julian nodded slowly. “She has.”
“And she never told me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I cannot say for certain. Perhaps it was because she did not wish to hurt you.”
Alexander frowned.
“That does not make any sense.”
“Does it not? Think about Eleanor. She has always been considerate of others. Even when she is suffering, her first thought is often how her pain might affect someone else.”
Alexander said nothing, because he knew that was true. He had seen it. Eleanor apologized when she had every right to be angry with him, and she softened her words even when she had been hurt.
“She may have believed,” Julian continued, “that telling you the truth would make you feel as though you had failed her.”
Had she thought that? Had she looked at him and decided she could not trust him with the truth?
“I thought she was happy.”
“Did she tell you that?”
Alexander hesitated. She had not, not exactly. She had never said she was happy, but she had never claimed the contrary either.
“She seemed happy.”
Julian gave a faint, sad smile.
“There is a difference between someone being happy and someone being grateful.”
Eleanor was certainly grateful. He had seen that. Had he mistaken that gratitude for happiness?
“I do not know what to believe.”
Julian watched him carefully.
“You do not have to decide anything today.”
Alexander looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you should not punish yourself. You have always carried responsibility for everything. You take every burden and convince yourself it is yours to manage, but sometimes loving someone means recognizing when you are the reason they are unhappy.”
“I never wanted that.”
“I know. That is why I am telling you this.”
Alexander, in spite of everything, was grateful to have a friend who was willing to be so honest with him. Most people were afraid to, given his position in society, but not Julian. He needed him around, even if he challenged him more often than he might have wished.
“You are my friend,” Julian continued. “I do not wish to see you suffer.”
Alexander looked away. The word felt complicated, because Julian was the one person who could understand what he was feeling.
“You believe I should let her go. Is that what you are trying to say?”
Julian was quiet for a moment, then he sighed.
“I believe you should give her the choice.”
“Do you think I have not?”
“Have you?”
The question was impossible to argue against.
“You married her because she needed protection. You offered her a home, you gave her security, but did you ever ask what she truly wanted?”
Alexander felt the answer before he admitted it.
He had not, because he had assumed that safety was enough, as long as such a practical arrangement could remain untouched by emotion. But somewhere along the way, he had begun wanting more, and he had never stopped to consider whether Eleanor wanted the same.
“She deserves happiness,” Julian said quietly. “And if she cannot find it here…”
He let the sentence trail off. He did not need to finish it—Alexander understood. The silence stretched between them. Every doubt he had tried to suppress seemed louder, and the thought of him having missed every possible sign that she needed him was unbearable.
If Julian was right, then Alexander had spent weeks fearing losing Eleanor while never realizing she had been longing to leave.
And the cruelest part was that he could not even blame her for it.