Ellie tilted her head and fixed him with a glare.
He huffed. “Besidesme.”
“Why would I need any friend besides you?”
“True, but I cannot be available all the time.”
“Debauchery does cut into your schedule.”
“Indeed. My secretary is constantly cross with me,” he said, grabbing for a petit four.
She slapped his hand away and took it for herself, making a show of eating it in tiny bites.
Henry scratched his neck and met her gaze. “So you have no one else, no companionship at all?”
“I live with my mother, and she is enough,” Ellie said, ignoring the faint ache in her chest. Why was he being so dogged about her solitude? “When I am ready, I’ll establish my own home and fill it with cats and hedgehogs and orphaned children.”
Henry screwed up his features in thought. “Are you at the age where you can declare yourself an eccentric widow and do whatever you’d like without consequence?” Henry must have realized the cut of his words because he blanched. “I’m sorry, El, that wasn’t what I—“
She waved it off, sitting back in her chair. He wasn’t wrong, after all. “As far as I can tell, I have two years before I officially enter eccentric dotage, and frankly, I cannot wait.” Her eyes glanced at a chocolate-coated almond resting on the edge of his plate. The nuts were her favorite, but restrictive eating habits long since ingrained made her hesitate.
Henry sighed, picked up the almond, and dropped it on her plate. “You’re far too young to give up on any sort of enjoyment in your life.”
She popped the almond in her mouth and nodded her gratitude to Henry. “I enjoy the little things, and I am accustomed to living without grand excitement. This trip has already been far beyond anything I have experienced before.”
Henry dragged his fingertip through the powdered sugar on his plate, then slipped it between his lips. A bolt of awareness shot through Ellie and settled low in her belly; she bit her lip and cleared her throat, pushing away the sensation.
“I don’t think that’s fair,” Henry said, as though weighing each word.
“What do you mean?”
Another drag of his finger through the sugar, but he let his fingertip rest on the plate. “You could still have the life you wanted. It’s not fair you married him so young, and you never had the family you desired, but it’s also not too late.” He paused, opening his mouth as though he had more to say, but then closed it.
Painful memories clashed with the warmth blooming in her chest, the knowledge that he cared for her, even in passing, even a bit. She leaned forward, dragged her own finger through the sugar on his plate, and sucked it between her lips.
“Few things in life are fair, Henry.” She pressed her mouth into a smile, although she knew it wouldn’t reach her eyes. “Even you should know that.”
Chapter 14
One year and six months earlier
TherapidstaccatoofHenry’s fingers drumming on the console table stood in stark contrast to the dulcet tones of the harp in the foyer. His mother had hoped for a more subdued affair this year, opting for a smaller guest list and pockets of trios and solo musicians in lieu of a full orchestra, allowing for more conversation. The muted atmosphere, punctuated by occasional cries of “Happy Christmas,” only aggravated Henry’s mood more.
The first year of the new century had nearly destroyed him. His best friend Alex, bastard that he was, had fallen in love and moved to America, leaving him alone in Oxford. His typical companions for debauchery had long since graduated and taken on serious responsibilities, such as taking their seats in Parliament and starting families. The obligations Henry had studiously avoided for so long looked downright appealing, simply as something to fill his days. The winter was dark and interminable. Henry spent nights drinking himself into oblivion, only to sleep the day away and repeat the process with the next nightfall.
His father, the venerable Earl of Fensworth, cut his son a glance from his position at the entrance to the ballroom, and Henry winced. They had barely exchanged a dozen words since two days prior, when he informed his father that he would not graduate from Oxford in the spring. In fact, Henry had not even bothered to sit for his winter exams.
Henry had wished his father would be angry with him, had called him names or cast him out of the family home like the disgrace Henry was. But instead the man just sighed and shook his head.You could be so much more than this,the earl had said.You merely need to choose it for yourself.
What more could he possibly be? He was approaching thirty years of age, with no friends or future he could identify. Would having a piece of paper indicating he had stuck with something for long enough to complete it actually have a significant impact on his sense of contentment?
Every time he considered quitting altogether, he thought of Ellie.Of how interested she was in his studies, how eager to learn about the world. About him. The idea of disappointing her sat like a weight in his stomach. He always seemed to be disappointing someone.
The burst of warmth he experienced at the thought of her was quickly doused by guilt. The news of her marriage had flattened him. Upon hearing about her impending nuptials from a friend at his club, he gathered the courage he had lacked in his previous twenty-eight years and—
Well, there was no point in dwelling on what happened because his plan, like everything he tried to do, had turned into an utter disaster. He returned to his apartment, humiliated, and opened a bottle of brandy—the one he had set aside for them to share, had he ever found a moment alone with her when he wasn’t making an ass of himself—and drank the entire thing, throwing the empty glass into the fire for good measure.
Henry was a fool for thinking of burdening Ellie with his troubles. He existed to be the levity between the dark spaces in the world, but could have none of his own.
