James leaned closer. “Look at me.”
She hesitated.
“Eleanor,” he said. “Please.”
She lifted her gaze.
Everything else fell away.
“I am not angry because you danced with another man,” he said softly. “I am angry because I did not want you to.”
Her lips parted. “That sounds dangerously like jealousy.”
His silence served as his response, and Eleanor gave a shaky laugh. “At least you somewhat admit something.”
The music ended.
Applause rose around them.
Eleanor stepped back, her expression unreadable, then lowered herself into a deep, elegant curtsy. Dramatic. Perfect.
The crowd sighed as one.
James stood frozen.
Eleanor straightened, met his eyes once more, then turned and walked away.
Guests began to move. Cloaks were fetched. Carriages summoned.
James remained where he was, the echo of her warmth still in his hands, dread curling tight in his chest.
For the first time that evening, the room felt unbearably large.
And utterly empty without her.
CHAPTER 24
Morning arrived with an uncomfortable clarity.
James had not slept.
He lay awake through the small hours, staring at the ceiling as the house settled around him. The ball replayed itself relentlessly, not in music or movement, but in Eleanor’s face as she turned away from him. The way she bowed. The way she left him standing there while the room applauded.
He had meant to fix it.
He had only made it worse.
By the time daylight filtered through the curtains, Eleanor was already awake. Or at least gone. When he descended for breakfast, she was not there. The table was laid. The food untouched.
Mrs. Hargreaves did not comment. That, somehow, was worse.
Eleanor passed him once in the corridor later that morning, her expression cool and remote, her greeting formal enough to sting.
“Your Grace.”
The words cut deeper than any raised voice could have.
James spent the day attempting to work and failing entirely. Papers blurred. Names meant nothing. Every quiet corner of the house felt heavier without her presence in it.
