"Done." Aubrey said it without hesitation. "I'll write the check today."
Eleanor's hands stilled on his chest. "That's... that's incredibly generous."
"And I have another thought." Aubrey caught her hand gently, stilling it against his skin. "What if we invited the children here? For dinner? And gave them gifts? Made it a real celebration?"
Eleanor stared at him, her heart suddenly hammering so hard she thought it might crack her ribs. "You want to host the orphans? Here?"
"Why not? We have space. We have resources. And—" His smile was soft. "I've seen your face when you talk about those children. You love them. So, let's give them a Christmas they'll remember."
Something inside Eleanor broke open—all the careful walls, all the protective distance she'd been maintaining. Before she could think, before she could stop herself, she threw her arms around Aubrey's neck.
"Thank you," she gasped against his shoulder, tears streaming down her face. "Thank you, thank you."
Aubrey's arms came around her immediately, pulling her close despite the awkward angle, despite his injuries. One hand cradled the back of her head while the other pressed against her back, holding her against his bare chest.
"Eleanor," he whispered into her hair. "My Eleanor."
She was crying in earnest now—messy, grateful tears that soaked his skin—because she was pressed against his bare chest, his arms around her, nothing between them but her dress and their rapidly thinning self-control.
They held each other like that for a long time, Aubrey's arms strong around her, both of them breathing hard.
"I'll write as many checks as you want," Aubrey murmured against her hair, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "For anything. Everything. If it means keeping you in my arms like this."
Thewords broke the spell. Eleanor pulled back, suddenly aware of how improper this was. How she could feel every defined muscle of his chest against her body. How his arousal was now unmistakably evident between them.
"I should…" Eleanor scrambled off the bed, nearly knocking over the basin in her haste. "I should summon Morrison. To dress you. You'll need proper clothes if you're going to sit in a chair today."
"Eleanor—"
But she was already at the door, pulling it open, her face burning. "Morrison! Lord Madeley requires assistance!"
The valet appeared almost instantly, as though he'd been hovering nearby.
His eyes widened in horror at the scene before him: his master, naked from the waist up and clearly aroused, the bed linens in disarray, Lady Madeley flushed.
"My lord," Morrison said faintly. "I see you require... assistance."
"Yes," Aubrey said, not taking his eyes off Eleanor. "Though I was rather enjoying the assistance I was already receiving."
Morrison's face went scarlet. "I shall... I shall fetch proper attire. Immediately."
He fled, leaving Eleanor and Aubrey alone once more.
"Eleanor," Aubrey said softly. "Don't leave. Not yet."
"I must." Eleanor couldn't meet his eyes. "Morrison will be back any moment, and I need to…"
"Think?" Aubrey supplied gently. "About what just happened?"
"Nothing happened," Eleanor said, too quickly. "I was simply overcome with gratitude. For the donation. For the invitation to the children. That's all."
"Of course." Aubrey's smile was knowing. "Nothing at all."
Morrison returned at that moment, laden with clothing and wearing an expression of extreme suffering. "My lord, if you could perhaps... that is..."
He gestured vaguely at Aubrey's lower half, where the evidence of his arousal was impossible to ignore.
"Morrison," Aubrey said with amusement, "it’s nothing you haven’t seen."
