An Unexpected Bride Read online

  Henry found himself distracted as well, but for an entirely different reason. Why must his wife be so enchanting?

  The answer to Silas’s question from a few days before was perfectly clear.

  He had certainly fallen in love with his wife. But trust came first, and he was still not entirely sure she trusted him. And he strongly suspected she still had a secret, one he would have to wait to uncover. As it was, he was not certain he trusted her completely either.

  * * *

  Arthur went to sleep easier that night. There was something different about his eyelids as they fluttered closed, a certain contentedness that Eleanor hadn’t seen in a very long time. She stared at him for a long moment, at the roundness of his face, the lashes that swept straight, so long that they bent against his cheeks. She bent over to kiss his forehead, her loose hair falling over his pillow. “Goodnight, little one.”

  He was already asleep, but she hoped he could feel that she loved him and that he was safe. She blew out the candle beside his bed, taking the other candle into the hallway with her as she made her way back to her own room. The hallway was completely dark aside from the soft halo of light that radiated out from her candlestick.

  Henry’s door opened. She stopped as she passed the doorway, her heart jumping. She caught herself from dropping the candle, but only just.

  “Eleanor,” Henry said, his voice lifting in surprise. “I thought you were already asleep. When I saw the light I thought I had left a candle burning in the hallway.”

  She had never seen Henry without his cravat and waistcoat. He wore his simple white shirt, untucked, his hair slightly mussed. She tried not to think of how shocking her own appearance must have been, with her hair loose, hanging down her back. And she was wearing her night dress, her feet bare on the cold marble floors.

  He stared down at her, waiting for her explanation it seemed, but all she could think about at the moment was how it might feel to bury her fingers in his hair, perhaps even contribute to the unruly appearance of it. She swallowed. It struck her as slightly humorous then, that she and Henry had never seen one another so unkept, but nothing about Henry’s gaze was humorous as he stared at her with a weight she couldn’t explain.

  “I was just about to go to sleep, actually. I am sorry to have disturbed you with my light.”

  Henry’s gaze burned through her as he took a step closer, glancing behind her at Arthur’s door. “No, do not apologize. I heard that Arthur had a nightmare last night.”

  She nodded. “Yes, but I believe tonight he will be much better.” She avoided Henry’s eyes, but she found her attention darting to his lips far more than necessary. What else was there to look at? She had often found his cravat to be a good alternative, but his cravat was regrettably absent this evening.

  “If there is anything I may do to help him, please come wake me,” Henry’s voice was quiet, as if he feared waking Arthur.

  “Oh, you need not trouble yourself. I can help him on my own.”

  Henry shook his head. “You need not do anything on your own any longer.”

  She was still learning how to accept assistance when she had grown so accustomed to not having it. Henry had already devoted his days to looking after Arthur. He didn’t need to devote his nights as well. “Yes, and I thank you for hiring Adeline. She has provided help before.”

  Henry sighed, a sign of exasperation she hadn’t seen before. “That is not what I meant.”

  A quiet whimper came from Arthur’s room, the sound growing slightly before subsiding. Henry fell silent, listening. Eleanor knew it to be a common sound Arthur made in his sleep, and it did not usually signify a nightmare.

  “I will ensure he is well,” Henry said, taking a stride forward. “You should go to sleep.”

  “Wait,” Eleanor said, her voice hushed. She stopped him, pressing her palm against his chest without thinking.

  Henry stopped, his gaze landing on hers with that same weight as before. She found it difficult to pull her hand away. She could feel his heartbeat pulsing through his shirt, thudding against her fingertips.

  “There—there is no need for that,” she said. “He will be just fine tonight.” She started to lower her hand, but Henry caught it, holding it gently in his. She dared a glance at his eyes, and immediately wished she hadn’t. Her heart picked up speed. The combination of his closeness, and his touch, and the heat and dim light radiating from the candle was too much. Henry stared at her for a long moment. He released her hand, but the intensity of his gaze did not soften. She felt trapped by it, pulled by it, and it would not let her escape.

  “If you are certain,” he said finally, the words somewhat forced.

  She pressed her lips together, nodding. Henry’s attention fell to her lips, and her heart seized. Just as quickly, he returned his gaze to hers. A fleeting thought crossed her mind—she wished he would kiss her. Did he want to? She caught a glimpse of longing in his expression, and she had to stop herself from stepping closer, filling the space between them. She tried to breathe steadily, but it was suddenly very difficult.

  When Mr. Quinton had kissed her, she had felt nothing. What would a kiss from Henry feel like? Emotion clawed at her heart, a longing to feel loved. Were Henry’s feelings for her the same as her own? Did he wish to kiss her because he cared for her as deeply as she cared for him? She had none of the answers. All she knew was that she was falling, and she lacked the strength to catch herself.

  Henry drew a deep breath, taking a large step backward toward the doorway behind him. “Goodnight,” he said, his voice somewhat abrupt.

  “Goodnight.” She stepped back too, bustling far too quickly back to her own room. She closed the door behind her, leaning against the cool wood.

  With one puff of air, she blew out her candle.

  Chapter 13

  Eleanor spent most of the next morning and afternoon with Arthur, reading some of the books she had found in the library. That night, she and Henry would be traveling to Seaford for the dinner party. She would have to leave Arthur at home, so she wanted to spend as much time with him that day as possible.

  Seaford was not far, and she knew Adeline would keep Arthur occupied while she and Henry were away. She hoped she could visit Brighton soon with Arthur, to show him more of the town she had grown up in. But for tonight, he would have to stay home. She did not think a four-year-old boy would be welcome at a dinner party at the home of a marquess.

  When late afternoon came, her maid helped her get ready for the party. She wore one of the gowns she had selected in Brighton with Amelia, a deep blue with short, layered sleeves, a lace-trimmed neckline, and a matching satin sash. Mary styled her hair in a more elaborate arrangement than usual, piling most of her hair at the crown of her head, leaving a single tendril to circle the back of her neck, resting over her shoulder and bodice.

  She could hardly remember the last time such care had been taken with her appearance, and she was struck with melancholy at the thought of the days that were long past, when her mother had combed her hair at night.

  When she met Henry in the drawing room to leave, he seemed surprised to see her so well presented. Of course he would be, after her unruly appearance the night before in the hallway.

  She took him in with her gaze. His hair had been neatly styled, and he wore a simple grey waistcoat. To her relief, his cravat was tied. At least she could have something to look at that did not send her stomach spiraling, or her heart out of rhythm.

  “I am sorry I have been so absent today,” Henry said as he walked toward her.

  “I understand that you are quite busy.” Eleanor smiled. “Please let me know how I may be of assistance in managing the estate.”

  A small smile curved his lips, his eyes sparking with amusement. “So you are allowed to help me, but I am not allowed to help you?”

  She knew he was referring to the night before, when she had insisted on taking care of Arthur on her own, even though she had been exhausted. She looked d
own at her gloves, smiling. “No, I suppose not.”

  When she looked up again, he was still smiling, but his voice was softer. “You are beautiful.”

  Her heart leapt at his words. She had known flattery before, but never flattery so obviously genuine, mingled with a hint of shyness that sent familiar threads of warmth through her heart. His compliment was given depth through his smile, his eyes, and she knew he meant more than the fact that she had worn an elaborate dress and hair style. Henry always saw far deeper than that. “Thank you,” she said.

  He brushed aside one of her curls. “Remember?” he said, his voice low. “You mustn’t thank me for anything, especially for declaring something so obvious.”

  She couldn’t stop her smile from widening. He extended his arm. She took his elbow, wrapping her hand firmly around it.

  Adeline brought Arthur into the room to bid them farewell. Upon seeing him, Eleanor felt a sudden pang of guilt for leaving. She had to remind herself that Henry had hired Adeline for a reason. Eleanor needed to do something for herself tonight, and Arthur would be well taken care of. He seemed happy enough to be there with Adeline, holding her hand and smiling up at her.

  Eleanor bent down to kiss the top of his head, and Henry ruffled his hair. Her heart warmed at the sight.

  “You be good to Adeline while we are away,” Eleanor said.

  “Oh, I am certain he will be,” Adeline said. She rarely spoke, but when she did, her voice seemed to shake, as if she were too shy to even say a few words.

  Eleanor stole another glance at Arthur. She had never been apart from him for an evening. It frightened her. She knew the servants to be capable of looking after him, but she was still slightly unsettled leaving him behind.

  Arthur’s brow creased. “Will you come back soon, Mama?”

  “I will be back to give you a kiss before you go to sleep tonight,” Eleanor promised. “Perhaps Adeline will play bilbocatch with you.”

  Arthur seemed to cheer up at that suggestion, glancing up at the nursemaid. “I wike bilfocash.”

  Adeline squeezed his hand. “As do I.”

  Eleanor gave Arthur one more kiss before Henry led her out of the room. She waved in the doorway.

  Adeline smiled, waving her own farewell in their direction.

  * * *

  To Eleanor’s relief, all the guests at Pengrave were familiar in one way or another. Lord Seaford had been a dear childhood friend of Adam’s through their time spent at the same boarding school. Eleanor had not become acquainted with him until that evening, and she found herself wishing she had met him long before that. He and his wife were two of the most friendly, agreeable people she had ever met.

  Tall, lanky, with dark curls that spilled over his forehead and an ever-present smile, Lord Seaford was not at all how she had imagined a marquess to be. The title had fallen upon him unexpectedly, she had learned, as well as the estate, so he had not been born to such privilege. His wife, small and red-haired, was slightly quieter, but she teased her husband mercilessly.

  “Philip! You mustn’t bore our guests with another description of your apple tree.”

  “How could they be bored? I know for a fact that my horses adore hearing about my apple tree, so I assumed our guests would too.”

  “The horses do not understand you.”

  “Perhaps not, but they love to eat the apples, and so will our guests.” Lord Seaford winked at his wife before turning to Eleanor and Henry. “I have had a delicious apple tart prepared for dessert this evening.”

  Eleanor and Henry had been the first guests to arrive, and they sat in the parlor with their host and hostess, awaiting the arrival of Adam, Amelia, and her aunt Margaret. The other guests that would be arriving were Mr. Harrison, his wife, Edward, Grace, and the Baron of Hove, who was Grace’s uncle. The prospect of so many guests was daunting, but Eleanor knew she wouldn’t receive any scorn from any of them. They knew the truth of her situation, not just the gossip.

  So far Eleanor had sensed no disdain from Lord and Lady Seaford, who seemed quite happy to entertain Henry and Eleanor all evening.

  Lord Hove was the first of the other guests to arrive. He was a man of average height, with neatly combed grey hair, a yellow waistcoat, and a cane. He offered a flourishing bow when he entered the room, beaming with excitement as Lord and Lady Seaford introduced him to Eleanor and Henry.

  “Ah! Mr. Beaumont, it is a pleasure to see you again. Your brother and my niece have always spoken so highly of you.”

  The baron sat down on the nearby sofa, crossing his leg over his knee. Just moments later, the drawing room door was opened again, and Amelia’s aunt Margaret stumbled through it, her cane catching on the edge of the doorframe.

  “Oh! Good heavens, I did not mean to make such an entrance,” she said around a gasp. Eleanor suspected that more of the woman’s inhalations were gasps than not. She straightened her posture, fluffing her greying blonde curls before surveying the room. “Ah, dear Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont. I am very pleased to see you again.” She smiled broadly, coming to take a seat beside Eleanor.

  “Are you enjoying your time in Brighton?” Eleanor asked.

  Margaret nodded, an energetic bounce of her head. “Yes, indeed. It is my favorite place in all of England, as well as its surrounding towns such as Seaford and Worthing, of course.” She smiled at their host, her eyes flickering to their other guest, Lord Hove. Eleanor watched with amusement as Margaret’s eyes settled on the man. Possessing an obvious inability to hide a single emotion she felt, Margaret’s eyes rounded. “Oh, my. He is quite a handsome man, isn’t he?”

  Eleanor refrained from releasing the laugh that rose in her throat. “Indeed.”

  Henry seemed to be listening to the conversation as well, for Eleanor heard a small chuckle escape him. “I happen to know that he was widowed years ago,” Henry said. “He is quite eligible, I believe.”

  Margaret’s eyes widened.

  “Have you yet made his acquaintance?” Eleanor asked.

  “No, but I certainly wish to.” She winked, and Eleanor’s laugh bubbled out.

  As if he had heard her request, Lord Seaford beckoned Lord Hove forward to meet Margaret. She stood, leaning heavily on her cane. Eleanor watched their introduction with growing amusement. Lord Hove appeared every bit as smitten with Margaret as she had been with him. The awkwardness of the exchange made her feel slightly better about her first interactions with Henry, although they had certainly been awkward as well.

  “Oh my, where did you have your cane polished?” Margaret asked.

  “London, I believe.” Lord Hove’s voice was even more boisterous and friendly than Lord Seaford’s. “Yours is quite luminous as well.”

  “Thank you, sir. I do take great pride in keeping my cane in presentable condition.” Margaret’s smile was wider than Eleanor had ever seen it, her eyelashes batting in a method that could only be interpreted as flirtatious.

  Lord Hove grinned. “As one should. A cane will always be my favorite accessory.”

  Margaret’s smile grew impossibly wider. She did not seem to know what else to say, so she took to staring at his cane again. “I daresay yours is the most fashionable cane I have ever beheld.”

  Henry nudged Eleanor’s arm, and she turned to see him smiling. He tipped his head close to avoid being overheard. “When we grow old, please promise me that we will not speak in endless circles over the attractive qualities of one another’s canes.”

  She stifled her laugh with her gloved fingertips. “Would you prefer a conversation regarding the quality of the physicians that care for our gout or the blacksmith that we pay to pull out our decaying teeth?”

  Henry tipped his head back, laughing. “Certainly not.”

  Eleanor tapped her chin. “Perhaps we might choose to converse on the frustrations that arise due to scratched spectacles or dirty fingerprints on our antique silver. Is that the sort of conversation you would prefer?”

  Henry’s laughter subsided, his s
mile softening. “I would prefer a conversation like this.”

  She grinned, looking into his eyes. She would too. The thought of growing old at Henry’s side filled her with so much sudden joy, it shocked her. She could see no other vision for her life now, when just a month ago, she had not even known him. A month ago, she had felt helpless, broken, and her future had been bleak. Now… life was so very different. So very happy.

  The sensation of joy only lasted a short moment before reality sneaked into the corners of her mind. She still had not told Henry what had happened that day she left her old life behind. She couldn’t bear the thought of him looking at her with caution, or fear, or even disgust. Her heart still hammered at the memory.

  Adam and Amelia entered the room, calling her attention to the doorway. She and Henry stood as they walked toward them.

  “Eleanor,” Adam smiled, clasping her hand between both of his. “I have missed you.” She studied his face, sensing a strain behind his smile.

  “I have missed you too.”

  Adam exchanged a glance with Amelia. Did Eleanor see worry in her expression?

  “I am glad you were able to come tonight.”

  “As am I.” Eleanor sensed the same worry in Adam’s voice that she had seen in Amelia’s features. Before she could question what it meant, the rest of the guests arrived, filling the large parlor with the sound of many friendly voices and introductions.

  She was seated near Mr. and Mrs. Harrison during the meal. Mr. Harrison’s wife, Harriett, was just as amiable as he was. She was Grace’s elder sister, but Eleanor never would have guessed it based on either their personalities or their appearances. Harriett spoke with Eleanor with fascination about her gown, jewelry, and hair arrangement, until her husband interrupted with a much more serious topic.