The house seemed quieter without them, as though Blackmere Park itself were holding its breath.
Later, Eleanor sat in the small sitting room off the main hall, attempting to read but failing spectacularly. Her thoughts kept returning to the image of James smiling at his aunt, the way his shoulders had relaxed, the way his voice had warmed.
He was not always the man of rules and schedules.
That knowledge unsettled her more than his severity ever had.
James escorted his aunt to the guest room.
“Nephew,” Frances said, patting his hand warmly. “This house feels very different with your new wife in it.”
James’s brows lifted slightly. “Different?”
“Yes,” Frances said, nodding. “Less like a fortress.”
James cleared his throat. “Aunt Frances you sound almost common with all of that sentiment.”
“Do not sound so disapproving,” Frances chided lightly. “I am merely suggesting that perhaps it is time you stopped hiding behind your walls.”
James’s jaw tightened. “This is not the time.”
“It is always the time,” Frances replied gently.
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “She has done remarkably well. I can tell.”
James cleared his throat. “Yes.”
His expression remained unreadable.
Frances sighed softly. “Perhaps you were right before, nephew. I think I shall lie down before supper. The ride has been longer than I care to admit.”
James turned down the corridor and continued to lead her toward her rooms. “I will see you settled, Aunt Frances.”
As they neared the guest room, Frances paused, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “James.”
“Yes.”
“As you are in thetonfirst, you should take it upon yourself to host the start of the season ball. Or rather, your bride should host.”
James stiffened. “That may not be –”
“It would be good for her,” Frances continued. “And for you. A first outing after the bridal tour. A proper appearance. Plus society will be drooling to see inside Blackmere Park properly.”
James hesitated.
“I will consider it,” he said finally.
Frances smiled knowingly. “It really was not a suggestion, James, but if you wish to think on how you wish to host a ball. Do so quickly before the timing becomes disagreeable.”
CHAPTER 14
James did not intend to go to Eleanor’s room with anything like hesitation.
He told himself that as he crossed the corridor, his steps measured, his expression already arranged into something neutral. The house was quiet at that hour, the servants withdrawn, the lamps turned low. Blackmere Park seemed to exhale around him, the hush after supper settling into the bones of the walls.
He raised his hand and knocked.
There was no call to enter.
