Arabella patted the coverlet beside her. “Then come.”
Eleanor climbed in, lying stiffly at first, as if her body did not remember how to share a bed without obligation.
Arabella turned on her side. “Tell me one thing.”
Eleanor’s voice was quiet. “What?”
“If he returned tomorrow,” Arabella said, “and asked you to forgive him again, would you?”
Eleanor stared into the dim light. “I do not know.”
Arabella’s voice gentled. “Do you want to?”
Eleanor’s throat burned. “Yes.”
Arabella sighed. “Then you are in trouble.”
Eleanor let out a breath that was half laugh, half sob. “Yes.”
Arabella reached over and took her hand in the dark. “Sleep.”
Eleanor tried.
The warmth of Arabella beside her helped. The familiar closeness, the steady breathing, the sense of not being entirely alone.
Eventually, Eleanor drifted.
She did not know how long she slept. Minutes or hours. The darkness was complete.
Then a sound pulled her back.
A soft creak.
Eleanor’s eyes fluttered open slowly.
The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of dying coals across from her in the hearth.
Another sound. Footsteps. Light, careful.
Eleanor sat up slightly and turned her head slowly toward the door that was opening.
“James?” she questioned hoarsely.
A figure slipped inside, and Eleanor’s heart lurched. “James?” she asked again, louder this time, but careful not to wake Arabella.
Arabella stirred beside her, half asleep, but remained asleep.
Suddenly, Eleanor caught movement from the corner of her vision. The figure moved quickly, too quickly, crossing the room.
The figure rushed toward the bed.
Eleanor’s scream ripped through her entire body.
CHAPTER 29
The road narrowed as the estate came into view, the long drive stretching ahead of them like a scar through the overgrown grounds. Their horses slowed naturally, hooves crunching against gravel that had not been properly laid in years.
“You could have waited until morning,” James said, his voice rough.
