She shook her head, amused. “You are terrible.”
James shrugged.
She smiled, then tilted her head. “And the attic?”
His expression shifted.
Her smile faded. “I should not have brought it up again.”
“On the contrary,” James said quietly. “You should have.”
She searched his face. “James.”
“I will not tell you,” he said.
Her shoulders tensed. “Then I will assume the worst.”
“You should assume nothing,” he replied.
She frowned. “Then what?”
He held her gaze. “Have you given any thought to me showing you instead of telling you?”
Her breath caught.
“When?” she asked.
“I will let you know when,” James said carefully. “I know that is not the answer you wished to hear tonight, but it will be soon.”
He took her hand, feeling the steady warmth of it in his. “And when I do, you will understand why I needed rules. Why I needed distance.”
She squeezed his fingers. “I would have understood sooner.”
“I know,” he said.
And for the first time since the ball, the dread that had settled in his chest eased slightly.
CHAPTER 25
James entered the breakfast room with a deliberate steadiness he did not entirely feel.
Eleanor was already seated near the window, a porcelain cup cradled in her hands, her posture composed but not rigid. Morning light filtered in around her, softening the line of her shoulders, catching faintly in her hair.
She looked up as he approached.
“Hello, husband,” she said.
“Hello, wife,” James replied.
Both of them wore a sly smile as he took the chair opposite her, noting the careful politeness of the exchange.
They ate in silence for a few moments, the clink of silverware the only sound between them.
“I must meet with Roderick later this morning,” James said at last, his mouth still slightly full.
Eleanor glanced up. “Will he be arriving here?”
“Yes,” James replied. “I suggested luncheon, but he refused.”
