A laugh escaped Ellie before she could hold it back. Henry’s face darkened for a moment. “You’re joking, aren’t you?” she said.
“I’m not.” He shifted his feet. “I can gather inspiration for my exhibition, while you see the art. Both of our problems—” He snapped his fingers— “solved!”
“How—why—Henry, that’s foolishness.”
“I will tell friends I’m taking a jaunt to the continent.” His eyes were sparkling, hopeful, as he gesticulated. “You can do whatever you wish, as no one is watching your movements anymore.”
She winced at the unintended slight. Aside from her rapidly deteriorating mother and the man standing across from her, precious few people would miss her in London.
Henry continued, unphased. “We meet in Cardiff, and from there, a ship departs twice a week for Rome. We board the ship as husband and wife and continue to exist as such until we return two weeks later. You go to London, I go to the Cotswolds to nurse my hangover, and no one will be the wiser.”
Ellie gaped at him. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.” He looked almost hurt. “This can work, Ellie. No one from England is traveling to Rome this time of year. It’s not at all uncommon for couples to have separate rooms, so it needn’t be awkward.” He gave her a half smile, the cheeky partial grin that exposed a dimple and made her heart melt. “It would be fun, Ellie. We can have a proper adventure together.”
Ellie paused before speaking again, knowing if she mentioned the most noteworthy barrier, he may change his mind, but it wouldn’t be right to simply ignore his commitment. “But what about Miss Brightling?”
Henry drew back a moment, his expression shuttering. “She won’t have to know.” Guilt pressed at Ellie’s insides, but Henry chuffed her on the shoulder. “There’s nothing to even tell her about, El. We’re friends, nothing more.”
She let out a low laugh. “This is madness, Henry. What if we were caught?”
He shrugged lazily. “We can work the details out if that comes to pass, but it won’t. What are the chances of anyone seeing us?”
He was annoyingly correct. Most of London fled to their country estates this time of year. No one even thought about going to dry and hot locations like Italy.
“Come on, Ellie,” Henry said, nudging her chin with soft knuckles. “Have some fun. I’ll take care of you, I promise. You deserve an adventure.”
She pressed her lips together. “All right, I’ll do it.”
He grinned and hugged her tight, spinning her around as she squealed and demanded to be put down. “You won’t regret this,” he said, planting a chaste kiss on her forehead.
Ellie felt as though electricity had touched her skin and fought the urge to lift her fingers to her brow, to see if it was indeed hotter than the rest of her body. “But you must behave, Henry. I’m trusting you.”
Henry grinned, and she warmed as though the sun was shining on her. “Oh, El, trusting me is a terrible idea.”
Chapter 5
Four years, six months earlier
Eleanorstaredatthefacade of Fensworth House with her heart in her throat, knowing who waited behind the doors. The man whose handsome face she had not forgotten. When she last stood outside the elegant London townhome, she was being shuttled into a carriage with Henry’s soiled jacket around her shoulders. Would he even remember her after a year?
From her vantage point on the sidewalk, Eleanor saw gentlemen milling about in the foyer as she waited for her mother and father to exit their carriage. Eleanor dreaded having to stay by her mother's side all night, as her mother struggled to keep her mind rooted in the present reality.
The Marchioness of Warwick’s eccentricities—forgetting the names of her maids or losing her train of thought mid-sentence—morphed from adorable quirks to signs for concern as they occurred more frequently. One Tuesday morning the past spring, Ellie found her mother sitting alone in an unhitched carriage at dawn, waiting for a ride to church. She needed frequent reminders of where she was, of people’s names and relations, in order to stay calm.
Ellie’s brother Victor stood stiffly by her side, checking his watch every few minutes, as though counting down to his return to Paris. He had left for France as soon as he reached his majority, promising to return immediately upon finishing his studies to assume his role as the heir of the marquessate. An age difference of seven years meant the siblings had never been close, but Ellie felt his absence like a leg had been removed from a chair, the lack of his stability leaving her off-kilter and insecure.
“Are you going to wait on the sidewalk all night?”
Ellie huffed. “Yes. With Mama as she is, it will be dreadful. Freezing to death seems the preferable option.”
Victor winced, then flipped up the collar of his coat. Apparently he preferred the sidewalk to the ballroom as well. “I’ll mind her tonight. You should dance, mingle with friends.”
“You don’t wish to do the same?”
“No,” he said in a rush before nudging her shoulder with his. “I get enough of that in Paris. This night can be for you.” He gave her a half smile. “Enjoy the freedom while you have it.”
Anticipation bubbled in her veins as Victor linked her arm with his and guided her into the welcome warmth of Fensworth Hall. Ellie slipped her spectacles from her pocket and onto her nose, and the blurry visions came into sharp focus. Lord Henry leaned against the balustrade, chatting with two gentlemen. Pristine black formalwear only made his face more strikingly handsome. He threw his head back in laughter, his broad grin transforming his sharp features into something preternaturally beautiful, a visage properly belonging to the angels above or the devil below.
