Chapter 29
The warmth of the inn’s fire slowly returned the feeling to Eleanor’s hands.
She sat wrapped in a thick blanket, a cup of tea held between both palms as she watched the flames dance in the hearth. The events of the evening still felt impossible to comprehend.
Only hours earlier, she had been sitting in a carriage, believing she was leaving Ashbourne forever. It was as though she had blinked and then suddenly she was sitting beside Alexander, knowing they were going home together. The word still surprised her.
Home.
Across from her, Alexander rested in his chair, his own cup untouched as the innkeeper’s wife tended to the bruises on his face.
The fight had left its marks, but Eleanor found herself looking beyond them.
She saw the man who had chased after her through the storm, the man who had finally spoken the words she had spent so long longing to hear.
She saw the man who had chosen her.
The innkeeper eventually approached them, his expression hesitant as he glanced between them.
“Forgive my asking, Your Grace, but I believe half the village is wondering what happened tonight.”
Eleanor felt her cheeks warm. It was not difficult to imagine the stories already spreading—a duke and duchess arriving separately, soaked from a storm, followed by a violent confrontation in the yard, and Julian Sinclair departing in a state that left no room for polite explanation.
Alexander looked toward her. He was asking, silently, if that was a question that she wanted to answer. He did not decide for her. Eleanor placed her cup down carefully.
“It has been a difficult evening,” she admitted, and the innkeeper gave a sympathetic nod.
“I gathered as much.”
She glanced briefly at Alexander before continuing.
“My husband and I have both made mistakes. We entered our marriage carrying many things we never spoke aloud, and it has caused so much trouble.”
The words felt strange, but not painful. She had only said the truth, and it felt freeing, in part. Alexander lowered his gaze slightly, and Eleanor reached for his hand beneath the table.
“But we have learned from it all,” she continued with a smile. “We cannot change the mistakes we made, but we can choose what we do next.”
The innkeeper smiled gently.
“That is most wise, Your Grace.”
Eleanor looked at Alexander. The words were simple, but they meant everything. Alexander’s fingers tightened around hers, and she reciprocated. For so long, they had stood apart even when they were standing side by side.
They had allowed pride and fear to speak louder than affection, but not anymore. The innkeeper wished them a peaceful night and left them to rest, and Eleanor found herself smiling faintly as the quiet settled around them again.
“I believe we have caused quite a spectacle,” she murmured.
“I suspect we have.”
She glanced at his bruised face. Given how intense the altercation had been, she was surprised by how little damage had been done.
“I am sorry you were hurt.”
“I am more sorry that you believed you had to leave. You did not. I wish that I had made it so you felt that you could talk to me.”
Eleanor looked down.
“I was afraid. I thought if I stayed, I would continue hoping for something that would never come.”
Alexander was quiet for a moment, then he lifted her hand and pressed his lips against her knuckles.
“I should have made certain you never had to wonder. I should have told you sooner that I was falling in love with you.”
Her eyes stung with tears, but she saw that a small smile touched his face.
“I believe,” he continued, “we were both exceptionally determined not to say what mattered most.”
A quiet laugh escaped her. Later, when they retired to their room, there was no urgency between them.
They sat together by the small fire, speaking quietly about everything and nothing.
They discussed the estate, the garden, the fête they had hosted together, and the changes they wanted to make together.
For the first time, their future did not feel like a duty placed upon them. It felt like something they were building, and when Eleanor finally rested her head against Alexander’s shoulder, she felt the weight she had carried for months begin to ease.
“I used to think I was trapped,” she whispered. “Now I cannot wait to go to the one place that feels like home.”
His expression softened.
“I will spend the rest of my life making certain it continues to feel that way.”
The following morning, sunlight replaced the storm.
***
Eleanor watched the countryside pass through the window of the carriage Julian had taken her away in as they traveled back toward Ashbourne.
Alexander would be sending a servant back to reclaim the horse he had taken to bring her back. The roads were damp from the previous night’s rain, but the sky was clear, and golden light stretched across the fields.
It felt like a different world, and she reasoned that that was perhaps because she was a different person. When she had first traveled toward Ashbourne, she had wondered what kind of life awaited her there. She had feared becoming nothing more than a stranger in someone else’s home.
This time, she looked ahead and saw the estate in the distance with a feeling she had never expected.
It was one of belonging. Alexander sat beside her, their hands joined between them.
Neither of them needed to fill the silence.
It was no longer the cold distance that had once existed between them. Instead, it was peace.
When the carriage finally reached Ashbourne, the servants hurried forward to greet them. Eleanor noticed the surprise on their faces when they saw the duke and duchess step down together, standing as partners.
Alexander offered her his hand, and she placed hers in his.
Together, they walked toward the house. For the first time, Eleanor did not feel as though she was arriving at Ashbourne.
She felt as though she was returning home.
The moment Eleanor stepped into the entrance hall, she barely had time to remove her gloves before a familiar voice reached her.
“My lady!”
She turned just in time for Bessie to hurry across the hall, and for a moment the young maid simply stared at her, as though needing to reassure herself that Eleanor truly stood there before her.
Then she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her. Eleanor was caught completely by surprise, but she could not help laughing as she returned the embrace.
“Bessie!”
“Oh, Your Grace, you are truly here.”
The words came out breathlessly, and when Bessie finally stepped back, Eleanor saw that her eyes were shining.
“I have been so worried.”
A pang of guilt touched Eleanor’s heart. Suddenly, she felt selfish for what she had done.
“I did not mean to frighten you.”
“I know you did not.” Bessie quickly shook her head. “But when you left that letter, and then you were gone, I did not know what to think. I thought perhaps you would never come back, and that I was to blame for not forcing you to stay.”
Eleanor looked down briefly, remembering the heaviness she had felt when walking through the garden for what she believed would be the last time.
“I think that I needed to leave,” she explained. “Had I not, I never would have missed it here, nor would I have found the clarity that I did by leaving.”
Bessie looked between her and Alexander, who had remained nearby, giving them their moment. The young maid’s eyes widened slightly as she noticed the way they stood together.
Eleanor smiled. “What is it?”
Bessie immediately looked embarrassed.
“Nothing!”
But Eleanor raised an eyebrow knowingly, and the maid’s cheeks turned pink in an instant.
“I only meant that you look different. When you left, you looked as though you were carrying the whole world on your shoulders. Now you look as though someone has helped you put it down.”
The observation touched Eleanor more deeply than she expected. She glanced toward Alexander, who did not look away. Bessie followed her gaze and smiled to herself.
“I am very glad you came home.”
“I am glad, too.”
Bessie clasped her hands together, unable to contain herself any longer.
“And the garden has missed you terribly, too, as well as all of the servants who have been worried that they would be left to tend to it themselves.”
She spoke with such seriousness that Eleanor laughed.
“I am certain a garden cannot miss anyone.”
“That garden most certainly can. The roses have been waiting.”
Eleanor laughed again, a sound that felt lighter than it had in months.
“I shall have to see them.”
“You must.”
Bessie’s expression suddenly became more animated.
“And I must tell you everything that happened while you were away, although Mrs. Whitmore will insist I should not gossip.”
“Then perhaps you should not tell me.”
Bessie smiled. “Perhaps I should not, but I probably will.”
Eleanor shook her head, amused. There was something wonderfully comforting about Bessie’s familiar warmth.
After everything that had happened, after all the uncertainty and heartache, this simple moment reminded her that she had not only returned to her husband.
She had returned to her life, and a home where people had waited for her.
Bessie stepped back and gave a small curtsy, though her smile remained bright.
“Oh! And I have been meaning to tell you that people are still speaking of the fête that you hosted.”
For a moment, Eleanor looked toward the garden beyond the windows, then she looked back at Bessie.
“Still? It has been weeks!”
Her answer came without hesitation.
“Indeed. It has been the highlight of the year thus far, and you are being asked when you shall host again.”
“Then we shall have to plan for it.”
This time, when she thought of hosting, she did not think of proving herself worthy of Ashbourne. She thought of celebrating the life she had finally found there.
***