The moment Julian stepped into the drawing room, something in her lifted so quickly it startled her, as though she had been waiting all day to see him. She had told herself she was only curious, only wondering how he would behave after the previous evening, but the truth of it felt far less simple when he stood in front of her again.
He had kissed her with a certainty that had left no room for doubt, and in spite of their agreement, she believed that he had changed his mind. So when he entered, she did not hesitate.
She dismissed the maid, stepped toward him, and allowed that brightness to show without tempering it, because for once, she did not feel the need to hide it. There was no reason to, not after what had passed between them. Whatever had existed before had changed, and she carried that certainty with her.
His greeting was not cold, but there was a distance in it, something that did not reach toward her in the same way she had begun to reach toward him.
At first, she told herself it was nothing. He had been away, and perhaps simply had not yet settled into whatever they had become. It did not unsettle her immediately. Instead, she continued as she had begun, allowing herself to remain where she was, certain that if she gave him a moment, he would meet her there.
She let herself smile, just slightly, because it felt as though she had finally found the one thing she did not expect to have. What they shared was not something grand or dramatic, but it was real and it could grow into something more.
When he had said he wished to speak with her privately, she did not question it. The previous evening had changed everything, and there were things that needed to be said, things that could no longer remain unspoken between them. The seriousness in his tone did not alarm her, and she followed him without hesitation.
As they left the drawing room, her thoughts moved ahead of her. She tried, briefly, to temper them, to remind herself not to assume too much, but the memory of it was too vivid, too present. He had not kissed her as though it meant nothing.
She wondered if he would speak plainly or if he would circle around it first, testing the ground before committing to it fully. The thought made her pulse quicken in a way she couldnot control. She tried to steady herself, to remind herself that whatever this was, it did not need to be rushed, but beneath that restraint, there was hope.
By the time they reached the smaller sitting room, she had convinced herself, at least in part, that she understood what the moment was. Then he faced her, and everything shifted.
It was not the look she had expected.
There was no trace of the man who had stood beside her under the night sky, no warmth carried over from the evening before, no hesitation that suggested he was about to say something difficult because it mattered too much. It unsettled her immediately, not because it was not familiar, but because it was.
She had begun to believe, however briefly, that she had seen something beyond his coldness, but there it was once more. She waited, and for the first time since he had returned, she did not know what he was about to say.
"I thought perhaps you meant to avoid me," she teased lightly.
"Of course not."
"That is most reassuring. As a young lady you hear stories of girls that give gentlemen what they want, only for them to be abandoned once they give in. It stays with you, although themore foolish girls tend to forget the lesson. Then again, as you know, I was not immune to it."
She waited for him to say something in response, but he did not, and so she continued.
"It is like me, though, is it not? To be so willful and determined. It is interesting how well you and I understand one another, considering how different our approaches are."
Still, he said nothing, and there was a pained expression on his face. Eleanor moved further into the room, though she did not sit. Julian did not speak immediately. The silence stretched just long enough to make her aware of it, long enough for her thoughts to begin moving again. She told herself he was choosing his words carefully, that whatever he meant to say required precision.
That belief held for a few seconds more, then he spoke.
"I do not know what to say."
"You need not say anything," she smiled. "I know that you have more formal tendencies, but that can change with time. I mean, last night you were unlike yourself, and I will not pretend that it was unwelcome– not that you are not fine as you are, I–"
She felt girlish, and it was the strangest sensation. One evening was all that it had taken to transform her, but that did not mean she felt particularly negative about it. There was a thrill in theway she felt, the fluttering in her chest that she never thought she would feel and the anticipation as she waited for him to find his words. At last, he cleared his throat and looked down, prepared to finally tell her what he had wanted to.
"Perhaps we allowed ourselves to go too far last night."
The words struck. Eleanor stared at him, her mind refusing, at first, to accept them. Of all the things she had been expecting, it was not that. The most foolish part of her had wondered if he had spoken with a friend and been convinced to confess his feelings for her, but given what he had choked out, it seemed that he did not feel anything at all. There was a temptation to ask him to clarify what he had meant, but she did not have to, as he did not wait for her to speak.
"It was a mistake," he continued. "It should not have happened. You and I do not have that sort of marriage, and we will not. I should not have overstepped, nor taken liberties with you. It was a mistake."
"A mistake," she repeated. "That is what you have decided it was?"
"Yes."
The certainty in that single word ignited something in her.
"And you believe yourself to have taken liberties with me as though I have no say in what I do. Julian, I know that you have certain values, but I thought you knew me better than that."