“Yes.”
For a moment, he only stared at her, as though he had not expected boldness from her again so soon.
“You are remarkably direct,” he said at last.
“I am remarkably unprepared,” Eleanor replied. “No one thought it necessary to explain anything to me.”
James looked away, jaw tightening briefly. “That is… unfortunate.”
“James,” she said softly, and his name on her lips felt strangely intimate, “will we have an heir?”
The words settled heavily in the quiet room.
He turned back to her slowly. “No.”
Her breath caught. “No?”
“No,” he repeated.
She searched his face. “You do not intend to – ”
“I will not claim you,” he said, his tone measured. “Not in that way.”
Her heart sank, though she could not have said precisely why. “Then why did you marry me?”
He met her gaze squarely. “Because I required a duchess,” he said. “And because the alternative would have invited questions I did not intend to answer.”
The bluntness of it struck her harder than she expected.
“Only that?” she asked quietly.
“Yes.”
She swallowed. “You did not marry me for… anything else.”
“No.”
Silence stretched between them.
Her pride stung sharply, embarrassment creeping up her spine. She straightened her shoulders. “I see.”
James’s voice softened, though only slightly. “This arrangement serves us both.”
“Does it?” she asked.
“It will protect your sister,” he said. “It will remove you from your father’s house. It will give you position and independence.”
“And you?” she asked.
“It will give me what I need.”
She nodded once, slowly. “I understand.”
He did not reach for her again.
Eleanor stepped back, smoothing her gown with hands that trembled despite her efforts to steady them. “Good night, Your Grace.”
He stepped around her and walked to the door, opening it slowly. “Good night, Your Grace.”
