Eleanor reached out without thinking and smoothed a loose curl back from Lily’s face, the gesture instinctive, familiar, something she had done before without hesitation.
"You must never sit wondering if you have done something wrong," she added. "If I am quiet, it is my own doing, not yours."
Lily leaned into the reassurance easily, her earlier unease fading, replaced once more by the brightness that seemed so natural to her.
"Will you read to me, then?" she asked, hope returning quickly, as though the moment of doubt had already begun to disappear.
Eleanor hesitated, but only briefly this time, because she could not deny her, not after that.
"Yes, very well," she said, her voice softening. "If you would like that."
"I would," Lily replied at once, the answer immediate and certain as she slipped off the bench. "I will find a book, a good one."
"I am sure you will," Eleanor said.
Lily did not wait for anything more and ran back toward the house, her steps light again and her energy restored. Eleanor watched her go, her eyes following her until she disappeared inside, and only then did she allow her shoulders to lower slightly.
She had reassured her, had corrected the moment as was expected, and yet the feeling remained. The distance she had chosen did not exist only in her own thoughts; it had already begun to shape the way she moved, the way she spoke, the way she held herself even in the smallest interactions. Lily had noticed it within minutes, and it was only a matter of time before everyone else did too.
Eleanor looked down at her hands, now resting loosely in her lap, the book forgotten beside her. How was she meant to sustain the facade, to remain careful and hold herself apart without letting it affect everything else around her? The thought settled heavily. It was not only Lily. It was the house, the place she had begun to find within it, the quiet moments that had started to feel real in a way she had not expected. All of it now required distance, and it was going to be painful.
She drew in a slow breath and lifted her gaze toward the house where Lily had disappeared. She had chosen this path, and she would hold to it, but as the garden settled around her in the same calm stillness as before, she could not help but wonder how long she could continue like this without something in her beginning to give way.
It would be noticed eventually, she had no doubt there. What troubled her most was the idea that her husband might not see a difference at all, and she wished she did not care. She was notsupposedto care.
But she did, and it was going to ruin her.
CHAPTER 22
Julian stood at the window of his study, his attention fixed on the garden below.
The papers spread across his desk behind him remained untouched and entirely forgotten. From where he was, he could see the far bench near the path, the one Eleanor had chosen that morning, and beside her, exactly where he had expected, sat Lily. The two of them were close together, the book open between them, their heads inclined toward one another.
He had gone to the study with the intention of working, of returning himself to something structured and familiar, but the moment he had noticed them outside, that intention had fallen away without resistance.
Eleanor’s voice did not carry to him, but he did not need to hear it to understand what passed between them. She would pause when Lily interrupted, would answer whatever question had been asked, then continue. Lily, for her part, leaned in enthusiastically, her attention fixed entirely on Eleanor.
It should have been reassuring to see, and in many ways, it was. Lily was not alone in the way she had once been, not sitting apart, not searching for something that was not coming. She had found companionship in his wife, a kind of ease that had not existed before her arrival, and that alone should have settled any concern he might have had. He had wanted that for her, whether he had said it aloud or not, and now it existed plainly before him.
And yet, as he watched them, there was something else beneath that recognition, something more difficult to ignore.
There had been a time, not so long ago, when Lily had soughthimout in that very same way. She had come to him with that same certainty, that same expectation that he would be there and he would listen. He had not always had the time or the patience he might have wished for, but he had been there all the same.
Julian’s gaze remained fixed on them as Lily moved slightly closer to Eleanor, pointing at something in the book, speaking with animation that he could see even if he could not hear it. There was no effort in what Eleanor did. She had not tried to become something for Lily. Julian drew in a slow breath, though it did nothing to ease his mind.
He had done what was necessary. He had told himself that more than once already, and he did not doubt the truth of it. Boundaries had been required, and he had set them. The line between himself and Eleanor had been allowed to blur in a way that could not continue, and he had corrected it before it went further than it already had. That had been the right decision,he did not question that. What he had not fully considered was what would follow.
If Eleanor chose distance, as he had, she would simply move toward what remained open to her, and that would not be him.
Julian’s hand tightened slightly against the window frame before he forced it to still, his gaze never leaving the garden. Responsibility had taken precedence, and he had accepted that without question because it had been required.
Lily laughed at something, the movement visible even from where he stood, and Eleanor paused again, turning slightly toward her as she answered whatever had been said. Julian did not look away. He could not, because in that small, unguarded exchange, there was something he recognized, something he had once been part of, even if imperfectly. It had not been easy for him, had not come naturally, but it had existed nonetheless, and now it stood before him in a form that required none of the effort he had always relied upon.
He had been replaced, and it being his choice in a way did not lessen the fact that it hurt.
Eventually, he stepped back from the window, while Eleanor and Lily remained where they were.
He did not turn from the window when the door to his study opened, though he knew who it would be before a word was spoken. The sound of Henry’s step was distinct enough, and though he wondered why the gentleman was there, he had toadmit it was a welcome intrusion. He needed someone to speak with in that moment, even if that someone was the brother of a lady that clearly hated him.