Eyes burning, Eleanor shook herself of the memories.After being unable to find him at the ball last evening, she’d sent him a message as soon as it was permissible to do so.It had been an agony to await his response, and when it had finally come, the relief she’d felt had been staggering.However, the short tone of the note had set anxiety swirling within her once more, and though he’d agreed to meet her, she had no clue if he welcomed it or was merely humouring her.
Caraney House was where she’d settled on for their meet, the place where she and Benedict had become more than friends, where they had loved each other, though she hadn’t known it at the time.This place was where she wanted to tell him that she did.Where she hoped he would welcome the news and perhaps even respond in kind.
Dear lord, she hoped he responded in kind.
Any certainty she’d had after speaking with Lady C had fled in the time between then and now, impetus fading and doubt creeping in.It was not that she thought he would be unkind—Benedict would never be such—but perhaps he did not feel as she did.Perhaps it had been friendship and lust and nothing more, and he’d needed time to put aside the lust and remember the friendship.Perhaps she would confess her love and he would be kind, gentle as he told her he loved her but only as a friend.It could be her heart would be broken in a matter of moments.Or perhaps he might yet be angry.It might be she had destroyed whatever emotion he’d felt.It might be he truly only wanted to be friends.Or it might be she had destroyed everything, and they would not even be that.
She lifted her chin.It did not matter how he might respond, or what could happen.She would not sway from this course.She would tell him how she felt, whatever his response.He deserved to know how very much he was loved.By her.
The stillness of the house was now deafening instead of comforting.The house was so very barren without him.She checked her watch again.Her heart sank.Fifteen minutes after the time she had asked to meet.He was late, however there were a hundred reasons he could be late.Perhaps he was delayed.Perhaps he had encountered too-crowded streets, adding minutes to his travel.
Perhaps he would not come.
Bursting into motion, she paced the room.She refused to think such.He would not abandon her.He would come.She knew he would.
The sound of the heavy entrance door opening echoed throughout the house.She whipped around, her heart thundering.Booted footsteps struck the floorboards sharply as they approached, ricocheting through the halls.
Frozen in the middle of the parlour, Eleanor stared at the door.Her chest grew tighter with every step, and she hadn’t even realised she’d held her breath until he entered the room.
Benedict had come.
The sight of him almost hurt, emotion swelling almost too big for her body to contain.“Benedict,” she breathed.
Upon seeing her, something lit his blue eyes a moment before disappearing, the lips she had kissed more times than she could count a thin line.His clothing was more sombre than any she’d ever seen and he looked tired and pale, as if he had not slept well.Eyes hard, he said stiffly, “I have come as you requested.”
At his cold tone, her courage failed.She’d practiced over and again what to say to him but now that he was here, now that he stood before with that cold expression, she could not think of a single word.“Where were you last night?”she blurted.
His brows shot up.“Pardon?”
“You were at the ball and then you were not.Where did you go?I wished to speak with you.”
His eyes, if it were possible, shuttered further.“Am I at the whims of your wants?”
That was not what she meant.Not at all.This was not going at all how she imagined.“I did not mean that, I—”
“I am allowed to leave a ball, El.”
Hope lit a flame in her breast.He yet called her El.“I apologise, Benedict, that was not how I wished to begin our conversation.”
His expression did not change.“Then how did you wish to begin it?”
She…could not remember.She had never before been lost for words with him,never.
Silence grew between them, a strange cavernous echo in the house where once their laughter had rung.This was awful.It had never been like this between them before.had been ease and comfort and…shehatedthis.How could it be there was such discord, such discontent, between them?
The light in his eyes, the one she hadn’t even realised was still there, died.“If you have nothing, I shall—”
No.He could notleave.“I was wrong,” she rushed to say.
He paused.Their gazes met, his impassive, hers desperate.“You were wrong?”
She nodded, and kept nodding.“You were right.Youareright.I overreacted.I was also wrong about…” She swallowed.Courage, Eleanor.“Wanting more.”
His gaze flickered.“More what?”
She gestured, the words tangled inside her.“I miss you.I miss us.I miss seeing you every day and talking with you and—”
The coldness bled from him and suddenly he looked weary.“Eleanor, I promise I am working on seeing you as a friend only, but I have not yet—”
