The Whitmore estate was alive with activities as preparations for the engagement ball were at its height. Servants ran through the corridors with trays of china while maids arranged golden candelabras, and faint sounds of string instruments being practiced could be heard from the grand ballroom. Eleanor stood by the big bay window of her chamber, watching the bustle below with a heavy heart.
It was going to be a sight. A gathering of lords and ladies from across the country would come together to celebrate what society had declared a most fortunate match. They would raise a glass to her marriage to the Duke of Langley, gratefully smiling, tendering insignificant praise. No one would know the truth, the silent war raging inside her, the love she had buried but never forgotten.
A loud knock on the door startled her. A maid came in hesitantly, her expression doubtful. "My lady, there is… there's someone in the gardens. He insists on speaking with you."
Eleanor's breath hitched. "Who?"
The maid hesitated before whispering, "Lord James Harrow."
She felt like everything around her was slipping out of control.
James, She whispered, trying to hide her excitement
She had convinced herself that she would never see him again, that he had accepted their fate as she had tried to. But now, he was here.
Eleanor's pulse pounded as she forced herself to remain composed. "I will see him," she said, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.
She walked through the passage hiding from anything or anyone, nothing was going to stop her from seeing her love again. The hem of her gown in her hands she tiptoed outside, cool night air wrapped around her as she stepped into the gardens, the scent of roses and damp earth filling her lungs. The estate's vast gardens stretched before her, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. And then she saw him.
James stood beneath the ivy-covered archway, his dark hair slightly disheveled, his strong frame tense. Even in the dim light, she could see the intensity in his blue eyes, the same eyes that had once looked at her with love, with devotion, with an unbreakable promise.
"You are engaged," he said, his voice edged with pain.
Eleanor wrapped her arms around herself, bracing against the overwhelming wave of emotion. "James… you should not have come."
He took a step closer, his hands clenched at his sides. "Tell me it means nothing," he said, his voice low, desperate. "Tell me you do not love him."
She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came.
Because she didn't love the Duke. She had never stopped loving James.
He let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "God, Eleanor… I tried to stay away. I told myself it was over. That you had made your choice."His eyes searched hers, looking for something she couldn't give." "But then I heard of the engagement, and I had to see you."
Eleanor turned away, gripping the cold stone railing of the garden terrace. "James, you don't understand" her voice breaking
"Then make me understand," he interrupted, stepping closer. His warmth was just behind her, so close she could feel it against her back. "Why are you doing this?"
Tears burned in her eyes. "Because I have no choice."
James let out a bitter laugh. "No choice?" He moved to stand beside her, his voice lower now, edged with something raw. "Eleanor, run away with me. We can go far from here, away from the rules, the expectations. You and I, together. That is all that matters."
Her chest tightened. The temptation was unbearable.
She turned to face him, and the moment their eyes met, the years between them vanished. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek, and she leaned into his touch without thinking.
"My father would ruin you," she whispered. "If I leave, he will make sure you have nothing."
James cupped her face, his touch desperate. "I would have nothing if I do not have you."
A soft sob escaped her lips. "James…"
His hand slid to the back of her neck, drawing her closer, his breath mingling with hers. "Tell me you don't love me," he whispered. "Look me in the eyes and say it."
She couldn't.
Her lips parted, her body aching to close the last bit of distance between them.
But then
Eleanor.
A voice cut through the night like a blade.
She froze.
Slowly, she turned to see the Duke of Langley standing at the garden entrance, his expression unreadable. The flickering torchlight cast sharp shadows across his face, making it impossible to tell whether he was angry or amused.
James tensed beside her.
The Duke took a step forward, his gaze never leaving Eleanor's. "I wondered where you had gone."
A cold dread slid down her spine.
She was trapped.