Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

T he wedding guests finally left, leaving Phillip alone in his house with his bride. He had heard from one of the old dowagers that Eleanor had disappeared briefly before the line of well-wishers could finish congratulating her, and he suspected she had needed space to recover from the shock.

He sat in his study, sipping a glass of amber brandy. Soon, he would go to find Eleanor to apologize for leaving her alone with the crowd after the ceremony. She would likely be upset with him for it, though he suspected she would be more upset that he had kept his silence about her father's plans for her during the month he had made infrequent visits to the house.

The betrayal in the pretty green depths of her eyes had stung worse than he had imagined it would.

Curse Fife for playing these games with the two of us!

Phillip wanted Eleanor for her own worth, not just for the financial assistance her dowry provided. True, in part, it had begun that way, but he had set his eyes on her from the beginning, and had her father not approached him first, he would have immediately been the one doing the approaching himself.

His silence had, in all likelihood, destroyed any chance for them to find happiness. She would believe everything he had said to be a lie, and he doubted she trusted anything he had told her during the brief period in which he had come to call on her. He had meant every word he had said, but she would never believe him now. It would take him a great deal of time and effort to convince her that he had meant it all despite his regrettable need to keep his silence on their impending wedding.

It had hurt him to stay away, but it had killed him to see her towards the end knowing that in a few scant weeks he would put that look of betrayal and anger that he had seen at the altar in her eyes. Her lovely green eyes should have been misty with joy, not pain, and he had put the latter there. He tossed back the rest of his brandy and shoved to his feet, determined to go and apologize to her. He could not tell her why he had been forced to keep her father's secrets. That was his burden to bear, and William had impressed upon him the need for continued secrecy for now. He couldn't imagine why William would do that to his daughter, but he wasn't going to argue about it, especially not on his wedding day when he had guests to entertain. Phillip was a man of his word, and he would not tell Eleanor anything her father had shared.

He knocked on his bride's door, but she did not answer. They were alone in the house, as the servants had retired to their quarters in the servants' wing of the mansion. She was all his now, and he had a right to enter. Still, he felt ill at ease with the notion of invading her privacy when they were at odds. Eleanor was his wife, and he was responsible for cherishing her and caring for her. That meant respecting her space as well.

"Eleanor?"

Still no response. Sighing, Phillip opened the door.

Eleanor sat by the fire, curled up in a chair and writing in a small, blank journal he had left for her to use if she wished. When the door opened, she snapped the book closed—smearing the ink, no doubt—and sprang to her feet, her cheeks flushing with color. "Do you need something, Your Grace?"

"Where did you disappear to after I left the celebration?" He hovered on the threshold of her room, drinking in the delicate evening gown she had changed into after the guests had departed. He'd had it made for her as a wedding gift, but he doubted she knew that. If she did, she wouldn't be wearing it. Still, it looked good on her, highlighting her beauty gracefully.

"I needed a brief respite to compose myself. What does it matter to you?"

"I am sorry I left you dealing with our guests alone this afternoon. I should have realized it would be taxing and would force you to take a moment's rest to collect yourself. It was insensitive of me."

Eleanor's chin lifted, and she turned away, setting the book on the small table by the chair she'd vacated. She went to sit at the dressing table and began letting her hair down, numbly staring at her reflection in the mirror. "I handled it on my own. Your presence was not missed."

Phillip winced and met her gaze through the mirror. "Nevertheless, I owe you an apology."

"Apology acknowledged."

"Is it accepted?" he asked.

Her gaze met his. "I told you, I did not miss your presence, Your Grace. There is nothing to apologize for."

"It was urgent."

"So you implied before you left."

"A matter of business I had to handle. It could not wait."

Eleanor offered him a smile tinged with bitterness. "No doubt. You are quite good at dealing with business , Your Grace. Your little performance right now proves as much. Consider your duty done."

"My duty?" Phillip stepped back, his stomach twisting. "Is that what you believe this to be? I meant my apology sincerely, Eleanor."

"I believe this to be a deal as much as the business you had to attend to this afternoon." She turned in her chair and stood up to face him. "I am a part of a deal and nothing more, Your Grace. Let us not pretend."

"It is Phillip, and what deal are you speaking of? You are not a part of a deal, Eleanor. You are my wife . I know you are upset about how it happened, but?—"

"Upset?" Eleanor's voice remained deathly quiet. "Upset, Phillip? I am seething, not upset. Upset is how I feel when I discover that a friend has not been quite as forthcoming as they ought to have been. Upset is how I feel when I find out that Sarah and I cannot go to the market as planned. Upset is not how I feel when I discover that a man I had respected lied to my face for nearly a month. I do not feel upset when I discover that I have been betrayed by those few I trusted. I daresay I might have even liked you, had you not turned out to be a snake much like the rest."

"Eleanor—"

"No!" Her voice rose. "I am beyond upset. I trusted you! I actually thought you might be different from the rest. If I had any desire to marry at all, I would have considered you the only option. Then, I discovered that you and Father were colluding the whole time. I am nothing to either of you except property to be handed off. He wanted to be rid of me, and you needed my dowry, so you took me! Do you think apologizing for your absence at our wedding celebration is enough to ease my pain?" She scoffed, tears welling up in her eyes. "I want no apology from a man whose lips drip with poison and lies."

Phillip stepped into the room.

That's what she thinks? That she is nothing but chattel to be traded around for monetary gain?

"That is not true," he hissed. "Do not degrade yourself to such a position, Eleanor."

"Do you deny it then?" The color in her cheeks bloomed hotter, and she crossed the room, jabbing a finger into his chest. "I overheard you and Father speaking in the back garden this afternoon when I left to collect myself. I know you are lying, Your Grace."

"I am doing no such thing! If you overheard us, then you know you were not a part of a deal to me."

"Are you insinuating that I am a liar?"

Phillip didn't know what to make of this angry hellion. He had never seen Eleanor like this. He had seen her upset, happy, courteous, barely hanging onto her dignity thanks to the shock she received this morning, but he had never seen her look so furious. What could he say to make her feel better?

"I am saying that you are twisting the facts or have misunderstood them, Eleanor."

With a strangled sob, Eleanor raised her hand to slap him. He caught it, holding her by the wrist against him. Her petite frame trembled, with suppressed rage or tears, he wasn't sure. Then, her tears welled, and she began to sob as she continued raging. "How dare you insinuate I am the one twisting things! A-after what you did t-today… A month, Phillip, you had a month and you could have said something. How long? How long were you two colluding to turn my life into this hell of a gilded birdcage!"

Phillip took her chin in his fingers. "Cease your weeping, Eleanor. I do not know how you have overheard us talking and still believe you are a mere part of a deal unless you did not stay to hear the whole thing."

She stopped struggling then, her eyes damp with tears. They slid past her lower lashes and dripped down her cheeks. One trekked its way over her full lips. Up close like that, she looked forlorn, not angry, and her lips were soft instead of rigid as they had been earlier.

Phillip tucked a loose curl back over her shoulder with a sigh. "That is the whole of it, then? You overheard a piece of the conversation and made assumptions. Your assumptions are wrong, Eleanor."

Her lower lip trembled, and Phillip stared at the softening of her lips as she took in what he was saying. More than anything, he realized that he wanted to claim that mouth of hers, to kiss away any doubts and fears she had, to prove to her that he was the same gentleman she had come to respect in their brief discussions before he would join her father for a ride or a drink in his office.

He leaned in a little closer. It would be well within his rights as her husband to do so. She stared up at him with wide, uncertain eyes before looking away, but she didn't try to pull away or resist him. However, he couldn't do it. It wouldn't be fair to her after everything she'd been through that day. She was upset, and it was clear from the tension in her body that she wanted to fight him but believed it was useless. He couldn't bring himself to kiss her when she was in such a state. Instead, he pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to her forehead and released her. "We will speak about this and other things tomorrow. You need your rest. Good night, Eleanor."

She pressed her fingers to her lips as if he had kissed her after all and continued to stare at the floor in silence. When it became clear he would receive no answering good night, he stepped back and left her to process all she had been through that day. He owed her that much.

Eleanor stood in the doorway of her room for a long while after Phillip's footsteps retreated. Her forehead still tingled with his kiss, and she knew that was not the sort of kiss he had intended to give her.

He had stopped himself. Why? Out of consideration for me? Because he didn't want to let himself look for more in me?

It was an arranged marriage. He'd married her for her money, so why did he vehemently deny that claim and then forced himself not to kiss her as he pleased? Arranged marriage or not, he would need an heir eventually. Eleanor knew better than to think she would go untouched through the entirety of their marriage. It was no sin for a man to want his wife, and she had no right to refuse him if he wanted her. She would not have fought him if he had kissed her.

She finally went to shut the door and returned to the fireplace, where she dropped into an armchair to regain her bearings. What happened? How did she end up there? Worse, why did she feel so strangely disappointed that Phillip hadn't kissed her after all?

A part of her wanted to go demand answers from him for what he had done just a few moments earlier, but she reined that part in and remained where she was. She didn't need to have answers right away. If the answers were ones that would add to her state of confusion and hurt, she wasn't certain she could bear it.

Best not to test the waters of our strange marriage tonight.

Rising again, she went to her bed and pushed down the covers, wishing she could make sense of the man she'd married. She had been so naive to believe he was an open book when they spoke during his visits to her father's estate. He was hardly an open book. Instead, he was a conundrum she couldn't solve but desperately wished to.

What is my place here now?

If Phillip was telling the truth and she meant more than money to him, then what did that mean for her? A man who loves his wife is a man who pays closer attention to her dealings and affairs. Having observed members of the ton, she noticed that the more a man loved his wife, the more jealously he would guard her and the more fiercely he would try to clip her wings to keep her at his side. She noticed that that the men who had married only for the money would ignore their wives and would leave them to their own devices. If Phillip had married her because he actually wanted her, that might spell a true and final end to her freedom. If she had feared he would clip her wings before, she feared it ten times more now.

Still, he had been so gentle with her on their wedding day, even as she raged at him. He had hardly raised his voice, and he had only moved to take hold of her hand when she tried to slap him. It was unexpected. From the whispers she'd heard amongst the ton's younger brides, it was best not to anger one's husband because it often led to outbursts, fights and perhaps even physical harm. Phillip had taken her verbal haranguing without any anger.

In fact, he had seemed terribly hurt by her words. She sighed and stared up at the canopy overhead. Why would he be hurt by her accusations if he was in it for the money she brought with her? It was obvious that his estate was in desperate need of the repairs her dowry could bring, and it seemed clear that was why he had married her based on what she had overheard. It made no sense that he would be stung by a truthful accusation.

Was there a chance he had spoken honestly when he told me I had missed the pieces necessary to see the whole truth?

She turned onto her side with a tired moan. It was too much for one day. Exhaustion tugged at her, and she was suddenly glad that Phillip had not acted on his desires but had instead insisted she go to bed. She needed rest more than she had realized, and the cool sheets were a welcome relief. Her eyes slowly closed as the fire began to go out, casting only a soft glow over the room and leaving the corners in shadows. Then, she drifted off, her dreams, in turn, troubled and soothing as her mind wrestled with the dichotomy of what she believed to be true and what she had witnessed that night even in sleep.