"You may."
"Have you begun to feel anything for her?"
Julian stilled. Henry had not softened his question at all, and it did not feel like a polite question from a friend. It was more an interrogation, which again, Julian did understand.
"If you have begun to feel anything for her," he repeated, "you must be honest about it. I do not take kindly to liars."
"This arrangement was entered into with full understanding," Julian said. "On both sides. That should tell you all that you wish to know."
"It does not protect her," Henry said, his voice tightening slightly. "Nothing about this match protects her, not if those terms begin to shift."
"They have not."
Henry did not accept that. Julian could see in the man’s eyes that he did not believe a word of it, and Julian wished that he was a more convincing liar. The truth was that, though he would not allow the terms of their marriage to change for her sake, there was no denying that she was alluring. Lily adored her, the staff more than appreciated her, and if he had to fall in love through a curse or some other cruel twist of fate, he supposed that she would not be objectionable. That was why he had agreed to marry her, after all.
"If you are going to involve yourself in her life beyond what was agreed," Henry continued, "then you must be certain of what you are doing, and you must be worthy of her."
Julian’s expression did not change, though his focus sharpened slightly.
"I have no intention of failing in my responsibilities, nor of involving myself any further than we planned."
"This is not about responsibility," Henry replied. "It is about Eleanor. She is my sister, the most precious thing that I have, and I will not see her hurt again."
Julian stilled. The words settled with more weight than the others had. It was not as though he had ever been particularly friendly with Eleanor, but he had at least thought he knew a lot about her. Enough to marry her, in any case.
"Again?" he repeated. "What do you mean?"
For a moment, Henry said nothing. Then he exhaled, the certainty in his posture giving way.
"She has not told you?"
Julian’s tone remained even.
"No. She has not, though I believe I ought to know, given the circumstances."
"That is not my place. It is hers."
Julian did not move.
"You have already said enough to suggest otherwise. I deserve an explanation, do I not?"
"I have said enough to make you understand that you should not be careless," Henry replied. "Nothing more was suggested, and nothing more will be."
Julian’s attention remained fixed on him.
"And so you expect me to proceed without knowing what has happened to her?"
"I expect you to respect her," Henry said. "And to allow her to decide what she shares and when. If she has not told you of her own accord, then it quite clearly means that she does not trust you, and I will not go against that."
Julian did not press him further, as he knew that the refusal was absolute. Henry stepped back slightly, the tension in him not entirely gone, but no longer directed outward in the same way.
"Do not take lightly what you have entered into," he said. "And do not assume she will remain untouched by it, simply because she has agreed to it."
Julian’s expression remained controlled.
"I do not make that assumption."
"Then do not prove me wrong."