"I'd be honoured, my lady."
Eleanor dismissed the other two women with generous compensation for their time, then turned to Mrs. Duncan. "I should warn you, I'm not used to being dressed. I've managed on my own for two years. I may be... resistant to help."
Mrs. Duncan smiled. "I've dressed Lady Egerton, my lady. I can handle resistant."
An hour later, Eleanor carried a tea tray into Aubrey's room. She'd told Mrs Williams she would continue bringing his afternoon tea. If she was honest with herself, she was beginning to enjoy his company since the day he’d responded with such enthusiasm to her… care.
Aubrey appeared to be writing correspondence when she entered, several letters spread across a portable desk balanced on his lap. He looked up at her entrance and smiled.
"Eleanor. Thank you." He set aside his pen. "Please, join me."
Eleanor set down the tray and poured his tea. One sugar. No milk. Forty-five seconds of steeping.
"I didn't prepare a cup for myself," she said when he gestured to the chair beside his bed.
Aubrey reached for the bell pull and rang it.
"My lord—"
"It's time you worked less and rested more," he said firmly. "Read more books. Took tea like a lady of leisure rather than a servant rushing between tasks."
Eleanor's hands clenched in her skirts. "I am not—"
A maid appeared at the door. "My lord?"
"Another teacup for Lady Madeley, please. And some of those biscuits Cook made this morning."
"Yes, my lord."
The maid disappeared, leaving Eleanor standing awkwardly beside Aubrey's bed.
"I've been thinking," Aubrey said, his tone conversational. "Would you like to use our family solicitor to manage the estate accounts? He's quite competent, and it would free you from that burden."
Eleanor's spine stiffened. "I don't find it burdensome."
"Perhaps not. But surely, you'd like to delegate some of the work?"
"I'll continue managing the accounts while I'm in residence," Eleanor said carefully. "But you may do as you like after I leave."
"Of course." Aubrey's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes that might have been disappointment.
The maid returned with Eleanor's teacup and a plate of biscuits. Eleanor sat stiffly in the chair, accepting the tea with a murmured thanks.
"I've also taken the liberty," Aubrey said, "of summoning the modiste. She'll arrive tomorrow morning to fit you for some new gowns. Ball gowns and walking dresses, if that's agreeable to you."
Eleanor set down her teacup carefully as her mind whirled with the sudden changes. "That's not necessary."
"For Christmas dinner—"
"I have a perfectly suitable dress for Christmas dinner."
"And for other occasions. One never knows when one might need a ball gown."
"I have no use for ball gowns," Eleanor said flatly. "I don't attend balls. I don't go anywhere that requires such finery. It would be a waste of money especially now when I’m leaving."
"It's my money to waste," Aubrey pointed out gently.
Eleanor stood abruptly. "Why are you doing this?"
