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CHAPTER7
Henry would not admit defeat so easily. In all his twenty-seven years, he had never once been rejected by a woman, and he would not allow his wife, Eleanor, to be the first. When he awoke the next morning, he vowed to do all he could to win over his wife. Since they didn’t know each other especially well, and they had skipped over the part of their relationship where he was supposed to court her properly, Henry thought they could do with a dose of good old-fashioned ‘together time’. He took Eleanor for being the sort of woman who didn’t become googly-eyed at romantic gestures, so he thought a ride through the park in the phaeton would do just the trick.
When he invited her to join him, she had accepted happily, and thus far, Henry’s plans had gone accordingly. They set out in the little phaeton about thirty minutes ago, and as they rode through the countryside, he pointed out landmarks and told her of his tenant farmers. The mid-morning sun wove charmingly throughout the landscape, highlighting the estate and making it seem even more opulent. Henry glanced at Eleanor who was sitting primly at his side, with her hands folded neatly in her lap. He liked the way the sun danced about her, making her hair shimmer, as a small smile played upon her lips.
As they rounded a corner that took them further from the grounds and into the open farming area, Henry thought it might be appropriate to introduce some more serious conversation topics. While they had chatted agreeably throughout the morning, he had intentionally brought Eleanor on this ride so he could learn more about her and so she could feel more comfortable with him.
Just as Henry was about to ask Eleanor about her brother, Frederick, he heard a mewling sound, and he jerked the reins in response. Eleanor chuckled light-heartedly. She placed her gloved hand on his knee and said softly, “It’s just Sir Whiskers. He wanted to come along for the ride.” The black cat poked its head out from underneath Eleanor’s long spencer coat, and Henry couldn’t stop himself from making an irritated face.Why did Eleanor have to like cats so much?Henry might have been able to understand if a loyal dog trotted after her, or if she maybe even had a small canary she liked to keep in a cage in her room, but Henry felt a shiver creep up his spine every time he saw one of Eleanor’s cats.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and snapped the reins so that the horse would return to the pace it had been set earlier. Henry frowned at Eleanor, and she pursed her lips in response. Sir Whiskers snuggled onto Eleanor’s lap, and she absent-mindedly stroked her fingers through the animal’s fur.
“Henry,” Eleanor said at last, “I’m picking up on your tension. You’re not still upset about last night, are you?”
“No,” Henry shook his head. In truth, he was disappointed that she had refused to accept him, but he didn’t want her to know that. He was, after all, willing to try again, and it wouldn’t do to let her think that he felt deflated or irritated in some way.
“Good,” Eleanor responded and gave a sigh of relief. Henry let his eyes cast over toward her and he saw that she now slumped in the seat. Henry moved again, trying to give her more room, and put some distance between himself and the cat. Eleanor’s expression changed yet again to one of concern, as he did this. “Henry, are you sure you don’t wish to speak of what happened last night? I assure you, I’m perfectly comfortable talking through the topic.”
“I’m sure you are,” Henry snorted.
“Well, if you don’t want to talk about what happened in my bedchambers, what does seem to be bothering you?” Eleanor said, her eyes gazing up into his.
“It’s your cat,” Henry replied, glancing down at Sir Whiskers.
“My cat?” Eleanor questioned, her tone shocked. “What’s wrong with my cat?”
Henry blew out an exasperated breath and then he looked back up at Eleanor. Her blue eyes were wide, and he knew that now was the time to speak to her of his past. “I do not think fondly of cats. Rather, I dislike them altogether.”
Eleanor wrapped a protective arm around Sir Whiskers. “Why?”
Henry glanced at the pony who was leading the phaeton and then his eyes flickered back toward his wife. “Have you never heard how my brother, Wallace, died?”
Eleanor shook her head. “I have not.”
Reluctantly, Henry tried to summarize the story as best as he possibly could. “My brother, Wallace, was always a robust and healthy young man. My parents, when they were alive, doted on him, and he was the pride of the family. My father liked to say that Wallace was the best of us…” Henry’s voice trailed off as he thought of that expression. It had been years since he’d thought of it, and now, just the recollection brought a tear to his eye.
“He was right, of course. Wallace was good at everything. He was intelligent, thoughtful, and everyone loved him. He would have made a splendid duke and he surely would have brought honor to the family name.” The tears that had been prickling at the corners of Henry’s eyes threatened to fall now, and so he scrubbed his fists into his eye sockets to banish the droplets.
“The thing is… we’ll never really know how great my brother could have been because he died a few years ago, unexpectedly. He was scratched by one of the cats my grandmother owned, and I don’t…” He fumbled with his words, the anguish sweeping over him. “I don’t really know what happened or how the cat scratch proved to be fatal, but it was. Wallace died from that cat scratch, and now… I’m left here… alone, trying to figure out the best way to carry on the family legacy.”
He paused and sucked in a ragged breath. “I looked up to my older brother my entire life. I thought he would always be there to show me not only what to do, but how to do it properly. When he passed away so unexpectedly…my world crumbled. I feel a tremendous obligation to him and to my family now because I must carry on this dukedom. It’s been in our family for so many generations. I ought to know how long, but I never learned… I relied on Wallace to know all those sort of things… I really am quite the miserable wretch.”
He turned toward Eleanor then and saw that small tears were rolling down her face. Henry reached into his overcoat and removed a white handkerchief. He handed it to Eleanor, and she immediately began dabbing at her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Henry,” Eleanor said, patting the handkerchief down her cheeks and around her chin. “I didn’t realize.”
“How could you?” Henry replied, his shoulders heaving depressingly.
“Well…” Eleanor answered slowly, “you did ask me not to bring pets to Lawson Manor, and you did tell me you were eager to start a family. I should have known you had good reasons for your requests.”
“Yes,” Henry murmured. “But maybe I should have been more explicit.”
“Would you like me to send Sir Whiskers and Lady Lovely Paws away? I’m sure I can send them back to Mama and she would take care of them.”
Henry was touched by Eleanor’s thoughtful gesture. He knew how much her pets meant to her and giving them up for his benefit was a heavy sacrifice. “No,” Henry replied. “Please keep your pets. I just wanted you to understand me better.”
Eleanor nodded, “I think I do.”
Henry turned the phaeton toward home then and as he did, Eleanor reached out and took his hand. Even though she was wearing gloves, and he was too, he felt the warmth in her grip, and it comforted him in more than one way.
