Chapter 11 #2
Another lady followed, then another. One by one, those who had quietly turned their backs on Eleanor now offered polite, albeit quiet, greetings beneath the shelter of the Hartley name.
The difference was unmistakable. Nothing about Eleanor had changed, only the family standing beside her, but it had made all the difference. She felt Gabriel glance down, satisfied that all was as he had said it would be.
The musicians began assembling for the opening set, and Gabriel turned toward her.
“May I?”
For the briefest instant, she almost smiled.
“I believe you are obliged.”
“I suppose I am.”
He led her onto the polished floor. The first notes filled the ballroom as they took their places opposite one another. It had been six years since they had danced together, since she had imagined every dance might lead somewhere beautiful.
The figures began. Gabriel’s movements were as steady as she remembered, his hand warm as it briefly enclosed hers before releasing it again. They crossed, turned, separated, and met once more, each step awakening memories she had tried very hard to bury.
“You remember it all,” he noted.
“I remember everything.”
The quiet answer escaped before she could stop it.
His eyes lifted to hers. For one suspended heartbeat, the ballroom disappeared.
There was only the music, only Gabriel and the awareness that they were dancing as husband and wife.
When his hand settled lightly at her waist during the final figure, she found herself looking up at him exactly as she had years ago.
He was already looking at her. Neither spoke.
Neither needed to. Around them, the whispers had begun to fade, even though they were still unmistakably there.
People saw a husband attentive to his wife, and a wife whose hand rested naturally in his.
They saw ease where there had once been scandal, which was precisely what they needed.
By the time the music ended, several conversations had already turned elsewhere. For a fleeting, dangerous moment, Eleanor allowed herself to believe they looked exactly as they should have looked all along—happy.
The illusion shattered when the master of ceremonies announced the next set. A murmur rippled through the crowd near the entrance, and heads turned. Eleanor followed their gaze to see that Julian Marbury had entered, as though he had every right to command the room.
His evening clothes were impeccably cut, his smile easy.
He greeted acquaintances with warmth, accepted their congratulations on inheriting his title, and moved effortlessly through the crowd, charming everyone who crossed his path.
He looked nothing like a man trying to steal a child from her mother.
“I thought he had returned to London,” Gabriel muttered.
“So did I.”
Their eyes met briefly. Neither liked what that meant. Julian had not come merely to visit. He had settled there, which meant he was close enough to cultivate allies, and to shape every conversation in the very society Eleanor was trying to reclaim.
As though sensing her gaze, Julian looked across the ballroom. Their eyes met, and his smile widened. He crossed the room at once.
“Mrs. Hartley,” he said, bowing with impeccable courtesy. “How delightful to find you looking so well.”
Eleanor’s stomach tightened. “Lord Marbury.”
“I trust married life agrees with you.”
Gabriel stepped forward before she could answer. “My wife has no wish to discuss her private affairs.”
“Of course not.” He turned back to Eleanor. “Fortunately, I came only to request the honor of the next dance.”
“I believe my wife—”
“It is quite all right,” Julian interrupted pleasantly, drawing the attention of several nearby guests. “Surely there can be no objection to something so innocent as a dance.”
Every eye seemed to settle on them. To refuse publicly would create precisely the scene Julian wanted. Eleanor felt the trap close around her. Very slowly, she looked at Gabriel.
The muscle in his jaw tightened, which told her that he knew it too. With the whole ballroom watching, there was no graceful escape.
“I would be honored,” she heard herself say.
Julian offered his arm with another charming smile. As Eleanor placed her trembling fingers on it, she caught Gabriel’s eye one last time. The concern she found there stayed with her long after Julian led her onto the dance floor.
The music began again. Julian guided Eleanor into the first figure, his smile pleasant enough that no one watching would have guessed how tightly her fingers had curled against her fan.
“I confess,” he said lightly, “I had not expected to congratulate you so soon.”
“There is no need to congratulate me.”
“No? I should have thought marrying Mr. Hartley was exactly what you wished for all those years ago.”
They separated with the figure before meeting again.
“I have always admired my husband,” she replied.
“I am certain you did. I mean, if you did not, you might have married another—well, of course…”
“I fail to see how that concerns you.”
“It concerns everyone who knows him. He has spent years sacrificing himself for others. First for his brother, then for the estate, and now for you.”
Eleanor’s chin lifted. She knew what he was inferring, and it was working, but she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that. The next turn of the dance carried them briefly apart, and when they came together again, he lowered his voice.
“I wonder whether you have noticed,” he commented, “the way he watches Lady Hartley.”
Eleanor frowned. “Cassandra is his sister.”
“By marriage. They have become remarkably devoted over the years. Then again, I suppose they had little choice. Long illnesses have a curious way of binding people together. Endless nights beside the same sickbed, shared burdens and grief—by now, they must understand one another in ways few others could. It surprised me that Gabriel married at all. I assumed his affections were already occupied.”
“Enough.”
Her voice was quiet, but it carried enough firmness that the couple nearest them glanced over. Julian immediately smiled.
“My apologies. I spoke out of turn.”
The dance continued, but Eleanor scarcely heard the music anymore.
Gabriel was waiting where she had left him. The moment Julian returned her hand, Gabriel stepped forward. Julian bowed before moving away into the crowd as though nothing unpleasant had passed between them.
Gabriel looked down at Eleanor. “You have gone pale.”
“I am only tired.”
His eyes searched her face. “Did he upset you?”
She wanted to tell him. She wanted to repeat every poisonous word Julian had whispered. Instead, she managed a small shake of her head.
“It was a long evening.”
For a moment Gabriel looked unconvinced, then William’s physician, who had also attended the assembly, approached to ask after Sir William’s health.
“I will only be a moment,” Gabriel said quietly.
“Of course.”
He squeezed her hand almost absentmindedly before letting it go. She watched him cross the ballroom, but he did not go toward the physician.
Instead, he went toward Cassandra. Lady Hartley had been speaking with an elderly acquaintance near one of the windows. Gabriel reached her first, saying something Eleanor could not hear.
Cassandra looked immediately concerned. They stepped a little apart from the crowd, their heads bending toward one another as they spoke.
Gabriel’s expression softened, and Cassandra answered like someone who knew him too well to require many words. Whatever passed between them seemed entirely effortless.
Eleanor forced herself to look away. She knew better. She knew Cassandra was William’s wife. She knew Gabriel’s loyalty to his family ran deeper than most men’s.
Even so, the image lingered. They looked comfortable together, and a feeling she could neither justify nor entirely suppress settled heavily inside her.
The ball drew to its close at last. Guests began collecting gloves and shawls while servants brought carriages to the entrance. Julian intercepted Eleanor only long enough to offer a final bow.
“I wish you every happiness, Mrs. Hartley.”
“Good night, Lord Marbury.”
He leaned closer just enough that only she could hear him. “If I may offer one small piece of advice, you should ask your husband whom he truly pines for.”
Before she could react, he had already stepped away, smiling pleasantly at another guest as though he had said nothing more remarkable than wishing her a safe journey home.
When they returned, most of the servants had already retired, leaving only a few lamps burning in the corridors. Eleanor climbed the staircase slowly, one hand resting lightly against the polished banister.
The evening had exhausted her. She longed only to look in on Sophie before seeking the solitude of her own room.
As she approached the family wing, however, voices reached her from farther along the corridor and she stopped.
Gabriel stood outside William’s bedchamber. Cassandra stood beside him. The door remained closed behind them so as not to disturb William, and they spoke in low voices Eleanor could not make out.
Gabriel rubbed a weary hand across his face, and Cassandra reached out without hesitation, resting her fingers lightly against his sleeve. He looked at her then, saying something that drew a small, understanding smile from her.
For a moment neither moved. There was nothing improper there, only two people who had spent years sharing the same burdens. Eleanor knew exactly what she was seeing.
She also knew exactly what Julian had wanted her to see.
She slipped away before either of them noticed she had been there, and tried in vain not to let him win.