Hurt clutched its fist around Henry’s chest and squeezed. “I didn’t.” Another untruth. He knew about her circumstances, but crushing guilt overwhelmed him, alongside the debilitating desire to do something to save her. If only he knew what.
“Why not?” Her voice was huskier than usual, but there was nothing accusing in her tone, merely curiosity.
“I don’t know.” He buried his hands in his pockets. “I felt as though asking after you was… inappropriate, somehow.”
“Why?” She quirked her head to the side to consider him. Her youthful form wrapped in mourning clothes stuck him as darkly hilarious; why was this bubbly young woman dressing up as an aging widow? “We were friends.”
We were friends, but are we still?“I-I don’t know. I’m sorry.” Henry cleared his throat. “What will you do?”
Ellie looked down at the black satin gloves covering her trembling fingers. “Ashby’s nephew—I keep forgettingheis Ashby now—recently married and wants to take the house in town as soon as possible.” She shifted in her seat. “I’ll be taking the dowerhouse at Pendleton Hall.”
Pendleton Hall, Ashby’s sweeping estate on the southern border of Derbyshire, was renowned for its hunting grounds and infamous for its complete neglect of its tenant farmers.
“Would you enjoy living on the grounds with your nephew?” he asked, his tone cautious.
“I can’t say it would be a delight to keep his company. Besides, I am twenty-four. There is not much to do at a dower house in the country, even if I prefer books to people.”
Henry smiled, the ache in his chest fading as she soothed it. “Ellie, I—”
“We should go inside,” Ellie interrupted. She bit her lower lip as she considered him for a moment more, then gave him a weak smile.
He took in her pallid demeanor, her sloped shoulders, and her placid expression, and a lump grew in his throat.She needed me and I wasn't there.“But we—”
“I can’t be seen socializing, Henry.” Hearing his name on her lips made warmth bloom in his chest, even as she pushed him away with her words. “I’m still in half-mourning.”
Henry followed her into the church, giving her a quick nod as she settled into a row in the back. As he continued to his family pew near the front, an idea took root in his mind.
He wasn’t there when she needed him, but perhaps he could make it up to her now.
Happy chatter and the chorusing of bells rang over the square, daring anyone within hearing distance to be melancholy. It was Christmas, after all, and even those in mourning could celebrate it.
Ellie kept to the side of the courtyard as carriages lined up to take their masters back to their luxurious homes. After spending a lifetime trying to avoid unwanted attention, mourning had given Ellie yet another method of escape. No one wanted to acknowledge a young widow, even on Christmas.
Goosebumps rose on Ellie’s skin and she pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. Her shivers had nothing to do with the weather, but more to do with the man currently striding out of the church.
HerHenry, as she still thought of him, even though they had not corresponded since Ashby’s death.
HerHenry, with whom she had barely exchanged a dozen words since that night two years ago, the night when he kissed her, only a week before she married. When she still hoped he would be able to save her from her fate. And despite the pain of the last two years, the abject loneliness and abandonment, Henry took up a significant portion of her heart, and she doubted his hold on her could ever change.
Her eyes followed Henry as he moved with grace through the revelers, shaking hands and bussing cheeks, leaving a wake of warmth behind him.
How she envied him. His ease and comfort, his confidence in his own abilities and place on this earth. Everyone wanted to be in his orbit, to count him among their friends. After all this time, could she still do the same?
Ellie winced at the bitter taste of resentment in her throat. Henry, the person she felt closest to despite spending a mere handful of days in his presence, had left her when she was at her weakest, when she had most needed him.
Ellie’s eyes scanned the line of black carriages for the Ashby crest. So long as she resided at Ashby House, she was entitled to use the earl’s carriage. At least until the new Ashby changed his mind.
She hated living at the whim of another person. She had done so with her father, and he had forced the marriage to Ashby. Now her scoundrel of a nephew, whose greatest accomplishment to date was being expelled from Cambridge for letting a herd of goats into the chancellor’s gardens, controlled her future. The decision of a man to cast her aside had left her widowed and about to be exiled to the country at the age of twenty-four.
To hell with him. To hell with all of them.
“Ellie!”
Her scowl dropped as she turned to see a figure moving towards her through the drifting flakes. Her heart leapt at the sight of him. Would she ever stop having such a reaction to him? “Ellie,” Henry repeated when he reached her side, breathless and pink-cheeked. “I thought you had left.”
She smiled blandly. “Not yet, but I must be off. You’ll give my regards to your family?”
“Don’t leave yet,” he said, stepping closer. Her breath caught, his presence making her feel momentarily weightless. “I’ve missed you.”
