Nothing more. Once, that would have been unthinkable for Eleanor. Once, she would have insisted upon something beyond it. She had believed that was the only kind of life worth having.
"You speak of this as though it were a contract."
"It is," Julian said. "In all the ways that matter."
"And you see no issue in that."
"I see no advantage in misrepresenting it."
"You see no issue in taking a woman who–"
"I am not taking her," Julian said, more precisely now. "You speak to me as though this is against her will. She has chosen this, and if she is content then it does not matter what you think of it."
Eleanor did not move under her brother's gaze. There was a moment when the weight of it pressed further than she had intended, but then it settled.
"What are your intentions toward her?" Henry said.
"She will be treated with respect. Her position will be secure. She will not be placed in uncertainty."
"What of the rest?"
Eleanor knew what he meant before he spoke it. She wanted him to stop, because it was easier to go ahead with the plans if she did not think of what it meant for her. She wondered, in part, if that was why Henry was doing this. He would have wantedanswers, certainly, but she considered that he wanted her to hear it bluntly too.
"What of love?" Henry asked.
"It is not something I can offer. She knows this, and has agreed regardless."
The air seemed to still.
There was no suggestion that time might alter it, or that circumstances might change. He would never love her, and that was that. She had understood it then, she understood it now, but that did not change the fact that her heart ached gently at the thought.
She had been the one to agree to it. She had asked him to marry her knowing that his thoughts would be unchanged, and even asked him a second time after he had made it perfectly clear. He had never once given her the impression that she could change his mind, and she had gone along with it anyway. She had told him it was enough.
And itwasenough.
Henry exhaled slowly, the tension in it still present, though no longer uncontained.
"You understand," he said, his voice low, "that I will not accept this lightly. She has chosen it. That is the only reason this conversation is ending as it is."
"That is perfectly fine. It is not my intention to cause you all any offense, but I will not pretend that this is not something we both want."
Eleanor remained where she was, her posture unchanged, though she felt the shift in him before her brother spoke again. It was something that she wanted, was it not? She had followed him out onto the balcony, and she had made her intentions known. She had no right to dictate what he could and could not offer her.
"If you fail her," Henry said, more quietly now, "if you place her in a position where she is made to regret this, there will be consequences."
"That will not be necessary. I have no intention of failing your sister. I understand that you must do this, and that you have a duty to protect her, but I can assure you that it is needless."
Henry studied him for a moment longer, as though measuring the certainty of that response against his own understanding of what might come.
"I will hold you to that," he said.
Julian simply nodded.
"You may."
Henry’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, and then he turned away. Eleanor did not move immediately.
At last, she drew a breath.