“Soon,” James said. “My carriage is already prepared.”
Her breath caught. “Today?”
“Yes.”
She searched his face, looking for hesitation. For apology. For anything that would suggest this was not already decided.
“Why?” she asked.
James’s jaw tightened. “Because it is necessary.”
“For the investigation,” she surmised.
He did not answer.
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.
“And me,” Eleanor said quietly. “What of me?”
“You may do as you please,” James replied. “Remain at Blackmere. Travel. Visit friends. Live your life as you wish. You may even take up Langford House, if you wish.”
The words were careful. Measured. Cold.
She stared at him. “You are dismissing me.”
“No,” he said. “I am freeing you.”
The room seemed to tilt slightly.
“I did not ask to be freed,” Eleanor said.
James met her gaze at last. “You deserve autonomy.”
“Deserve?” she asked, exasperated.
He exhaled slowly. “Eleanor, I wish you would see this unemotionally.”
She laughed softly, though there was no humor in it. “You showed me your grief. You let me touch it. You kissed me. You claimed me. And now you are leaving.”
“If that is how you see it, than yes,” James said.
Her chest ached. “I thought we had… I thought last night meant something.”
“It did,” he said at once.
“Then why does this feel like punishment?”
James stood. “Because you are interpreting it as abandonment.”
“Because it is,” Eleanor said.
He looked away. “I cannot discuss this further, Eleanor. We will only go about it in circles.”
She rose as well, her heart pounding. “You do not get to decide this alone.”
“I do,” James said. “I am the duke.”
The title cut like a blade.
