Eleanor turned to go, then paused, glancing back at him. “Yes?”
“You have never been small.”
Eleanor grinned slightly and then left him in the study.
CHAPTER 13
In their second week of marriage, Eleanor had taken to arriving to breakfast before the tea had finished steaming.
Not because she was hungry, exactly, but because she had promised herself she would not allow James to treat their agreement like a courtesy he could forget when it pleased him.
Every morning the past four mornings, she had beat him to the dining room.
The dining room at Blackmere Park was bright with winter light that morning, pale and honest as it spilled through the tall windows and settled on the polished table.
She took her seat and waited.
The servants moved quietly, placing the silver, adjusting the linens, pouring tea with practiced care.
Footsteps approached at last. Measured. Unhurried.
James entered as if the room belonged to him and it would continue to belong to him long after everyone inside it had turned to dust. He wore a dark coat, and his cravat tied with that severe neatness that made him look carved rather than dressed.
Eleanor rose, the way she was expected to. He inclined his head.
“Husband,” she said.
“Wife,” he returned, then sat without flourish.
Eleanor watched him for half a heartbeat and decided, with the same stubborn courage that had carried her into his bedchamber on their wedding night, that she would not let silence swallow this meal.
“What is your favorite color?” she asked.
James’s fork paused mid-motion.
Across the table, the footman pouring tea stilled so abruptly that Eleanor could almost hear his thoughts. He recovered quickly and continued his work with his eyes lowered.
James looked up. “My favorite color?”
“Yes.”
His gaze held hers. “Why?”
Eleanor poured cream into her tea with careful precision, as though the question were the most reasonable thing in the world. “Because I do not know you.”
“You are married to me.”
“That does not mean I know you,” Eleanor replied. “Besides, these past four days, we have already covered topics that did not really show me who you were.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, not angry so much as… baffled. As if he could not decide whether she was being clever or foolish.
Eleanor waited.
At last, with the air of a man indulging an absurdity because it was easier than battling it, James said, “Blue.”
Eleanor’s brows lifted. “Blue?”
“Yes.”
