"Someone had to." Eleanor kept her voice neutral. "Your steward sends quarterly reports, but the day-to-day management of the household requires oversight."
She saw surprise and perhaps shame flicker across his face.
"I see," he said quietly. "Yes. Thank you. I would like to review them."
Eleanor nodded and turned to leave but found herself hesitating. There was something she needed to know, something that had haunted her since their nuptial.
"My lord," she said, not turning around. "May I... may I ask you something?"
"Of course."
Eleanor forced herself to turn and face him. "Your lover. What was it about her that made her so special?"
Aubrey's face went carefully blank. "I do not see how that is relevant."
"I need to know." The words came out more desperately than she would have liked. "I have wondered for two years what I did wrong.What was so terrible about me that you could not even try to make our marriage work. I would have understood if you had refused the matrimony entirely. If you had fought your parents, broken the betrothal, accepted the scandal. But you married me. You stood before God and witnesses and made vows. And then you punished me for it. Every day. Every moment. And I need to understand why."
Her voice was shaking now, but she could not stop.
"What was so extraordinary about her that you could not find even the smallest measure of courtesy for your own wife?"
The silence that followed was crushing.
Aubrey's jaw worked. Finally: "She was... kind. Gentle. She loved me for who I was."
"And you believe I could not have done the same?" Eleanor's throat felt tight. "You never gave me the chance to know you, let alone love you."
"Because you destroyed any chance we might have had by displaying your character." The words left him before he could think twice. "You threatened her, told her that if she did not leave London, you would ruin her and her family. That you would tell everyone she had compromised herself with me, that she was a scheming servant trying to trap a viscount. You promised her that no respectable family would ever employ her again."
Eleanor felt the blood drain from her face. "What?"
"And that was not all, was it?" Aubrey continued, his voice hard. "You had a lover since finishing school. You threatened to drag her name through the mud while protecting your own secrets."
"I—" Eleanor's mind was reeling. "My lord, I have never—I have no idea what you are talkingabout."
"Do not lie to me—"
"I am not lying!" The words came out sharp and desperate. "I have never met her. How could I have threatened her when I did not know she existed until after the wedding? I do not even know her name. Never wanted to put a name to the woman who kept my husband from me."
Aubrey stared at her. "That is impossible. You knew about her."
"I knew nothing!" Eleanor hugged herself, needing the comfort. "My parents told me I was to marry Viscount Madeley. That was all. I did not know you were in love with someone else. I only discovered it when servants in this household talked."
She turned away from Aubrey's shocked expression, pressing her hands to her face, fighting for control.
"I was at my parents' estate in Somerset from the moment our betrothal was announced until three days before the wedding. Ask your own parents. They visited us there twice."
Behind her, Aubrey said nothing. She could feel his gaze on her back, could sense his confusion, his turmoil.
"I do not..." His voice was hoarse. "I do not know what to believe."
Eleanor laughed—a bitter, broken sound. "Of course you do not. It would be inconvenient to discover you were wrong."
"Eleanor—"
"Lady Madeley." She forced herself to turn back, to meet his eyes. "I think... I think it would be best if we discussed more practical matters. I shall be leaving after Christmas. Moving to St. Catherine's Orphanage permanently. You will need to decide whether you wish to hire someone else to manage the household accounts, or whether you will oversee them yourself."
The change in Aubrey's expression was profound. "Leaving? You are leaving the estate?"
