"There's still time for him to escape," Avon agreed cheerfully.
Aubrey threw a cushion at him.
As the afternoon dissolved into the comfortable chaos of male companionship—brandy flowing, insults traded, outrageous stories told—Aubrey found himself only half-listening. Part of his mind was already planning how to introduce Eleanor to these fools, how to show them what they were all missing by clinging to their bachelor ways.
They thought she'd bewitched him.
Perhaps she had.
But if this was witchcraft, Aubrey never wanted to break the spell.
Eleanor
Eleanor approached the drawing room with the tea tray, her new gown in royal blue silk draped elegantly over her figure. She'd dressed carefully for this meeting with Aubrey's London friends.
As she neared the door, a voice carried into the corridor—Aubrey's voice, warm and certain:
"I prefer the term 'in love.'"
Air seemed to abandon her.
In love.
The tea tray trembled in her hands.
She composed herself, counted to ten, then swept into the room.
The effect was immediate.
The three unknown gentlemen looked up—and their expressions shifted from casual interest to surprised appreciation. But Eleanor barely noticed them. Her attention was caught and held by Aubrey, who had turned at her entrance and gone utterly still.
His gaze travelled over her from the elegant upsweep of her hair to the way the royal blue silk draped across her shoulders and waist, and the naked admiration in his eyes made heat bloom across her skin. His lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he looked as though he'd forgotten his friends were in the room.
Eleanor felt herself flush, warmth spreading from her cheeks downher throat.
"Gentlemen," Aubrey said, his voice slightly rougher than usual, his eyes never leaving her, "may I present my wife, Lady Madeley."
The three men scrambled to their feet with varying degrees of grace.
"Lady Madeley," the tallest one said, executing a bow. "Lord Waverly, at your service. We've heard... much about you."
"Nothing good, I hope," Eleanor said lightly, setting down the tea tray. "I do so hate to disappoint expectations."
Waverly blinked, then grinned. "Oh, I like her already."
"Lord Cartwright," a dishevelled gentleman announced. "Delighted to make your acquaintance. That's quite a stunning gown, if I may say so."
"You may," Eleanor replied, "though I suspect you would have said so regardless of whether I granted permission."
Cartwright laughed outright.
The third man, whose cravat looked as though it were strangling him, bowed with mathematical precision. "Avon, my lady. We apologise for arriving early. We couldn't bear to think of poor Madeley languishing in the countryside without proper companionship."
"How thoughtful," Eleanor said, pouring tea with practiced ease. "Though I confess, he's seemed rather... occupied lately. Haven't you, darling?"
She glanced at Aubrey as she said it, and the heat in his gaze intensified. His friends noticed.
"Occupied," Waverly repeated slowly. "Yes. I'm sure he has been."
