Morrison bowed, showing a glimpse of excitement. "Consider it done, my lord. I shall go now and return in time to dress you for the luncheon."
"Make haste, and don't tell Lady Madeley. Let it be a surprise."
"Very good, my lord." Morrison moved toward the door with newfound purpose.
Aubrey sat alone, smiling, at the satisfaction of knowing that in three hours, Eleanor's face would light up upon the orphans’ arrival.
And that, Aubrey thought, was more endearing than all the remarkable talents she possessed.
Eleanor
Eleanor stood before her mirror while Mrs. Duncan fastened the last button on her new dress—the soft green silk that Madame Laurent had delivered just that morning, finished ahead of schedule as a Christmas gift.
It fit perfectly. The bodice hugged her small frame without overwhelming it, the skirt fell in elegant lines that made her look taller somehow, and the colour brought out the grey green of her eyes in a way her usual practical dresses never had.
"You look lovely, my lady," Mrs. Duncan said, stepping back with satisfaction. "Truly lovely. His lordship will be speechless."
Eleanor's stomach fluttered. "His lordship will be in bed, as he should be."
"Still, my lady. It's nice to look beautiful for one's husband." Mrs. Duncan's eyes were warm. "Especially if he's seeing you from bed."
Eleanor smoothed the silk to hide her blush, then made her way downstairs. The orphans would arrive within the hour, and there were still a dozen last-minute details to manage. She needed to check that the dining room was properly arranged, that Cook had everything under control, that the gifts were—
She stopped short at the entrance to the grand hall.
A tall man stood near the centre of the marble floor, his back to her, leaning heavily on two canes. Dark hair, broad shoulders, wearing the grey jacket and burgundy waistcoat she'd admired on him before.
Her husband.
Standing.
"Aubrey?" Eleanor's voice was pitched with concern. "What are you doing? You shouldn't be standing. You'll hurt yourself."
He turned carefully, using both canes for balance, and the smile that spread across his face when he saw her made Eleanor's pulse quicken.
"Eleanor." His voice was rough, reverent. "You look…"
He didn't finish the sentence. Instead, he took two clumsy steps toward her, and when she instinctively moved closer to help him, he caught her around the waist with one arm and kissed her.
Not chastely. Not tentatively. But with thorough, deliberate passion that made her head spin and her knees weak.
When he finally pulled back, his lips moved to her ear, his voice a low whisper that sent heat flooding through her entire body: "You look so beautiful I'm reconsidering this entire luncheon. Perhaps we should let Mrs Williams and the staff handle everything while I take you upstairs to bed."
Eleanor's face burned scarlet. "Aubrey—"
"I'm completely serious." His mouth found the sensitive spot just below her ear, making her gasp. "You in this dress. Me finally able to stand. A perfectly good bed upstairs. The children wouldn't mind a slight delay—"
"You're too disabled to handle me," Eleanor blurted out, then immediately pressed her hands to her burning face as she realised what she'd said.
Aubrey pulled back, his blue eyes wide with a mixture of delight and shock. "I beg your pardon?"
"I didn't mean… I meant you're injured. You shouldn't exert yourself." Eleanor was stammering now, mortified. "Dr Fielding said no strenuous activity."
"Did you just suggest I'm too disabled to bed my own wife?" Aubrey's voice was caught between laughter and outrage. "Eleanor Egerton, I am simultaneously impressed and utterly aghast at that statement."
"I'm simply concerned for your recovery."
"I'll have you know that certain activities can be accomplished while lying perfectly still." Aubrey's eyes were dancing now, his grin wicked. "With the right encouragement. And from what I experienced last night when you touched me—"
