They glared at each other in tense silence.
Then Aubrey looked away first. "You are right," he said, his voice hoarse. "I have no right to comment on your behaviour. I apologise."
The apology shocked Eleanor into silence. She studied his face—the tension in his jaw, the way his lips were pressed into a thin line.
"You seem quite recovered if you have the energy to concern yourself with my propriety," she observed.
Aubrey's eyes snapped back to her face. "I am in considerable pain, I assure you."
"Perhaps you are delirious then. Hallucinating. I should reduce your laudanum dose."
"You will do no such thing—" He stopped, seeing the glint in her eyes. "You are joking."
"Perhaps." Eleanor moved to the bedside table and checked the laudanum bottle with exaggerated care. "Or perhaps I am quite serious. It can be difficult to tell with wives who have been ignored during the entirety of their marriage. We develop dark senses of humour."
"Eleanor—"
"Lady Madeley," she corrected.
"Lady Madeley." Aubrey's voice was quieter. "I repeat... you are right. I have no grounds to object to your dinner plans. I was... out of line."
"Yes," Eleanor agreed. "You were."
"And you should not reduce the laudanum."
Eleanor suppressed the urge to smile. "No?"
She moved toward the door, then paused. "I shall return before midnight. Try not to work yourself into an apoplexy over my shocking impropriety in the interim."
"I shall endeavour to control myself," Aubrey said, and there was something that might have been amusement in his voice.
Eleanor left before she could examine that too closely.
As she descended the stairs, she realised her heart was beating faster than usual. And that for the first time in three days, their interaction had felt almost... normal.
Almost like a conversation between two people who didn’t resent each other.
She did not know what to make of that.
Chapter eight
Possession
Aubrey lay in the silence after Eleanor's departure, staring at the ceiling, his mind churning.
Steven Kedleston.He was someone close, trusted, who could visit without raising suspicion.
The name tasted bitter in his mouth, but Eleanor's denial had seemed so genuine.
Aubrey shifted against the pillows, wincing at the pull in his hip. Had Rose been mistaken? Or had she purposely… No, he would not doubt Rose. Rose had loved him, had wept in his arms but had been driven away by threats and money.
Aubrey was still working through this logic when the door flew open without ceremony. Mr Davies hovered in the background, looking apologetic.
"Aubrey! Good God, man, you look dreadful!"
Robert Wavell strode into the room with his characteristic lack of awareness for appropriate visiting hours or the privacy of invalids. He wasdressed for travel, his greatcoat still dusted with road dirt, his cheerful face ruddy from the cold.
"Robert." Aubrey tried to push himself up, failed, gave up. "What the devil are you doing here?"
