Aubrey's eyes were squeezed shut, his breathing shallow and laboured. Eleanor could see the tension in every line of his body, the way his jaw was clenched so tightly the muscle jumped.
"Eleanor," Lady Egerton said, her voice cold and clipped.
"Lady Egerton." Eleanor kept her voice neutral, though her heart was racing. "To what do I owe this... visit?"
"Your husband has been injured."
Eleanor's gaze flicked to Aubrey, then back to her mother-in-law. "I can see that."
"Thrown from his horse three days ago. The doctor has attended him. Nothing broken, the injuries are... significant. Severe." The countess’ lips thinned.
Eleanor's eyes flicked to Aubrey, trying to gauge how "severe" from his grey face and the way he couldn't seem to find a comfortable position against the cushions.
"He requires constant nursing care," Lord Egerton added, his moustache bristling. "Round the clock attention. Intimate care that a servant cannot provide."
The way he saidintimatemade Eleanor's stomach clench. What exactly had happened in that fall?
"He's been staying with us," Lady Egerton continued, "but we're leaving for France in a fortnight to visit your sister-in-law. And there's no one suitable to provide the level of care he needs." She paused meaningfully. "He has a wife. A home. This is where he belongs."
"Father," Aubrey's voice was rough, pained, "you can't leave mehere."
Despite the suffering, her husband managed to find the strength to object to her presence. As if her existence was worse than his pain. Eleanor's hands clenched in her skirts.
"I'll hire a nurse," her husband began.
"No woman will provide the level of care you need, and you've made it abundantly clear you won't accept a male attendant." The earl's voice was implacable. "You have a wife. She will care for you."
Aubrey's eyes opened, wild with something that looked almost like panic. "Mother, please—"
"This is not a discussion." Lady Egerton's tone cut through his protests. "You've spent these years sulking like a child, living in London, pretending your marriage doesn't exist. Well, it does exist. She exists. And now you're going to stay here and sort out whatever mess you've made of your life."
"You can't leave me here." There was real desperation in Aubrey's voice now. "She’s the reason I’m miserable. I can’t possibly live here with her.”
Ice settled in her veins as Eleanor stared down at her hands. She’d known her husband despised her, that he’d loved another woman before he was forced into this marriage. But she’d never been so directly rejected by him.
Her vision blurred slightly. Two years of pitying looks and whispered gossip. Two years of wondering what she did wrong, what made her so unlovable that her own husband fled rather than spend a single day with her.
And she'd finally made peace with it. Finally accepted that she would spend her life aiming to be useful at St. Catherine's. And now he dares—DARES—to act as though being left in her care is a fate worse than death.
Eleanor's nails bit into her palms through the fabric of her skirts.
“I cannot possibly recover here. She'll make me pay for it. Every day. Every moment I'm helpless." Aubrey tried to push himself up, winced, fell back.
He was certainly making it tempting, she thought darkly.
"This is what you deserve," Lady Egerton said flatly. "You've treated her abominably. You've made a mockery of your marriage and embarrassed both families. If she chooses to make you suffer while she nurses you back to health, that is between the two of you. We wash our hands of it."
"I'll be murdered in my sleep—"
"Don't be dramatic." The countess spun around with a swoosh of her gown and moved toward the door.
Aubrey's head turned toward her. For the first time since entering, he really looked at her. His eyes were dark, feverish, and filled with something between resentment and fear.
"You don't want me here," he said flatly.
"No," Eleanor agreed. "I don't."
"Then tell them."
