"If you are suggesting that you regret–"
"I am not," she interrupted. "I am merely observing that the timing is not ideal."
Julian did not respond at once. Eleanor watched him, and he wished that she did not. She could see through him, he was certain of it.
"I am happy enough," she said.
"And you consider that sufficient?"
"I do," she said. "I would not have agreed to marry you otherwise."
The carriage continued forward, steady and uninterrupted. Julian nodded his head slightly, accepting the answer for what it was.
"Very well."
Eleanor turned her gaze back toward the window.
"Besides," she added after a moment, "you did promise not to offer anything you could not give. It would be unreasonable of me to expect more than that."
"It would," he agreed.
"Then we are in agreement."
The conversation settled there, not abruptly, but without need for continuation. Outside, the road stretched ahead, leading back toward Harrowby.
It was quiet when they arrived.
Not empty, not unwelcoming, but settled. Julian had ensured that there was no grand welcome, nor any large events planned for their return. It reflected him more clearly when without excess, and it would help Lily settle into her new routine.
It would also, of course, help his new bride.
Julian stepped down from the carriage first, then turned to assist Eleanor.
"Lady Harrowby."
The title was new. There was almost a joy in his chest as he watched her hear it for the first time. Eleanor placed her hand in his and stepped down. It was not an arrival as a guest, nora temporary presence to be accommodated and observed. She belonged there now, and in spite of the lack of ceremony, he did want her to feel as though it was her home too.
He released her hand and turned toward the entrance, leading her inside. She had visited him before, once, but that had been years before when they were children. He doubted that she even remembered it; it was a day-long visit for their fathers, and hers had insisted on bringing his children too.
Upon their entry, a few members of staff were present, acknowledging their arrival before returning to their duties. It was exactly as he wanted it to be. Julian paused just inside, turning back to her.
"Your rooms have been prepared," he said. "They are arranged in the east wing. It offers a greater degree of privacy, and it is?—"
"Lord Harrowby."
He stopped.
"You may continue in just a moment," she said, "but I believe there is something we ought to establish first."
Julian did not immediately respond. The shift in tone was subtle, but unmistakable.
"I am listening," he said.
"I understand that you wish to explain my role here. I am happy for you to do that, but I would prefer it not to be in this manner. I am not entering your household as an employee. I am your wife."
The words settled between them. There was no hesitation in her expression, and he was pleased that she was unafraid to tell him what she thought, but already he was unsettled by that four letter word.
He did not want her to have a different definition of what it meant to be his wife than what he considered it to mean.