Julian did not respond. She rose from her seat, smoothing her gloves.
"This will not remain as you think it will," she said. "You have built your life on control, and now you are beginning to lose it."
"That is not something I intend to allow."
Rosamund met his gaze one last time.
"You may not have a choice."
She turned and left without another word. Julian remained where he was, the noise of the room returning gradually aroundhim, though it felt distant. For a long moment, he did not move, then slowly, he reached for his glass.
His decision had already been made.
Eleanor was in the drawing room when he returned. She stood near the window, one hand resting lightly against the back of a chair as she spoke with a maid about something, though her attention shifted the moment he crossed the threshold. The change in her was immediate, unmistakable in its sincerity. The moment she saw him, something in her lifted, a brightness settling into her expression that had not been there earlier in the day. She dismissed the maid without hesitation, her focus already fully on him.
"You have returned," she said, stepping toward him. "I had wondered how long you would be."
Julian stopped a few steps into the room.
"I did not intend to be gone so long," he replied.
Eleanor closed the distance between them, without the caution that had defined so many of their earlier interactions. There was a confidence in her now, a quiet assumption that something had shifted between them, something that allowed for ease.
"I thought perhaps," she continued, her tone softening slightly, "that you might wish to avoid me this morning, after last night."
"I did not avoid you," he said.
"I am glad," she said. "It would have been rather disappointing if you had."
The words were light, but there was something beneath them, something tentative, as though she were waiting for him to meet her halfway, to acknowledge what had passed between them without forcing her to name it first.
But Julian did not.
The shift was subtle, but it was there. Eleanor slowed, her attention sharpening as she studied him more carefully. The ease in her expression did not vanish, but it became more measured as though she had begun to sense that something was not aligning in the way she had expected.
"You are very quiet," she said after a moment. "That is rarely a promising sign."
"I have something I wish to discuss with you."
The words were formal. Eleanor stilled, just enough for the change to register.
"Must it sound so serious?" she asked, though her tone had shifted with his. "You are beginning to make me apprehensive."
"I would prefer to speak in private."
That was enough. The lightness that had greeted him did not disappear entirely, but it receded, replaced by caution. She looked at him for a moment longer, as though trying to match the man in front of her now with the one who had stood beside her the night before.
"Of course," she said at last.
She did not ask why, and she did not press him further. Instead, she nodded slightly and stepped back, gesturing toward the adjoining rooms with quiet composure.
Julian moved first, and Eleanor followed, her steps slower than before. The distance between them, which had felt so easily crossed the night before, had returned without either of them acknowledging it outright. Whatever she had believed had changed between them the night before, she carried it with her still, and she followed him as though she expected him to confirm it.
Julian almost wished that she was right.
CHAPTER 19
Eleanor had not realized she had been waiting for her husband until she saw him.