Arabella exhaled, then grimaced. “Good. Because I would hate to survive this only for it to be ignored.”
Eleanor’s grip tightened on Arabella’s hand. “It will not be ignored.”
Arabella’s gaze flickered between them. “You two look as though you have not slept in a week.”
Eleanor gave a small, strained laugh. “It may be close to that.”
James stepped closer, voice quieter. “The physician said you must rest.”
Arabella’s mouth tightened. “I will rest when I have finished being furious.”
Eleanor leaned in. “You were brave. You saved me.”
Arabella scoffed, though her eyes softened. “I would have preferred to do it without being struck in the skull.”
Eleanor blinked hard, fighting the sudden sting behind her eyes. “I know.”
Arabella’s gaze sharpened again. “Eleanor.”
“Yes?”
Arabella’s voice dropped. “Who was he?”
Eleanor hesitated.
James spoke instead, steady and controlled. “We do not have his name.”
Arabella’s eyes narrowed. “And what about Lady Whitcombe?”
Eleanor felt her chest tighten. Arabella had heard the name before. At the ball. In Eleanor’s own thoughts. Now it carried something uglier, sharper.
“She is involved,” Eleanor said carefully.
Arabella’s expression darkened. “She sent him.”
Eleanor nodded. “Yes.”
Arabella looked at James. “And you knew this before last night?”
James did not flinch, but his silence spoke loudly.
Arabella’s lips pressed together. “I see.”
Eleanor squeezed her sister’s hand gently. “Arabella.”
Arabella’s gaze softened toward Eleanor but stayed hard toward James. “Do not ask me to be polite.”
“I would never,” Eleanor said quietly.
A strained silence settled.
Eleanor felt James’s eyes on her, watched the way his posture shifted slightly, as if he were waiting for a decision.
She turned her head and met his gaze directly.
He had refused her request the night before. He had tried to lock her out of the truth. He had tried to protect her by keeping her ignorant.
But she had fought for her life in her own bedchamber. She had earned the right to understand the danger in her home.
