Hearts to Be Mended: A Regency Romance (A Forbidden Love Novella Series Book 6)

by Bree Wolf

  A touch of disappointment came to Winifred’s eyes as she sighed. “It was never my intention to discount it; however, I do believe that affection should only be based on compatibility. Does affection not naturally develop when two people share interests and find themselves at ease in each other’s company? Is that not the kind of affection that will last a lifetime because it has a strong foundation?”

  Now, it was Eleanor’s time to sigh for she could not refute that Winifred’s argument was sound, very convincing indeed. And yet, her heart refused to acknowledge any warning that would stand in her and Henry’s way to a happily-ever-after.

  Still, doubt remained.

  “I’m not saying you are wrong,” Eleanor finally said. “However, you only speak from a strictly theoretical perspective because in this very moment you are not in love, are you?”

  “That is true.”

  “Have you ever been?”

  Winifred shrugged. “Not that I know of. From what I’ve heard others say, it seems to be a rather powerful emotion unable to be ignored. Therefore, I conclude that I have never felt anything beyond a certain affection.”

  For a long moment, Eleanor closed her eyes, allowing the love that lived in her heart to wash over her, feeling it in every fibre of her being.

  “Are you all right?” Winifred asked after a while, concern ringing in her voice. “You seem…”

  Eleanor smiled, her eyes returning to her friend. “I’m in love with Henry. I cannot help it, but I am. I think about him in every waking minute, and I dream about him at night. My heart aches because I haven’t seen him in two days, and the thought of not spending the rest of my life with him makes me physically ill.” Shrugging her shoulders, Eleanor shook her head, trying to ignore the dumbfounded and rather concerned look on Winifred’s face. “I’m sorry, but whether we are compatible or not, I need him like the air I breathe.”

  Watching her friend closely, Winifred finally said, “While I do respect your decision, I must say that the depth of your dependence on him is rather alarming.”

  Eleanor swallowed and was just about to enquire what her friend meant by that when her mother, accompanied by Winifred’s brother Griffin, approached.

  “Isn’t it a beautiful day?” Lady Stanhope beamed, her eyes shining in a way Eleanor had not seen in days. “It was indeed a marvellous idea to hold a house party.”

  Winifred nodded. “I’m indeed grateful for the opportunity to see Eleanor again, Lady Stanhope. It has been too long.”

  “It has indeed,” Lady Stanhope agreed, her gaze drifting to Griffin. “My dear Lord Amberly, why don’t you share some of your marvellous travel stories with my daughter. I’m certain she would love to learn of the many wonders the world holds.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Griffin said, holding out his arm to Eleanor. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that gave Eleanor pause. What was he up to?

  In the meantime, her mother turned to Winifred. “Would you be so kind as to accompany me into the parlour? I simply must hear your opinion on a painting I recently acquired. From what I remember your artistic qualifications are not to be ignored. I cannot wait to hear what you think.”

  Accepting Griffin’s arm, Eleanor watched over her shoulder as her mother and Winifred headed back up to the house and then disappeared inside. “That was odd,” she finally mumbled, confused by her mother’s behaviour. “Never has she shown particular interest in art. I wonder what happened.”

  Next to her, Griffin chuckled, and Eleanor turned to see what had amused him so.

  “I hear you have a most unsuitable suitor,” he said with a wide grin on his face.

  Eleanor’s gaze narrowed.

  Laughing, Griffin lifted his hand in a placating way. “I only repeat what I hear. However, from what I can gather, your mother is intent on seeing you marry another.”

  Eleanor frowned. “But who?”

  Winking at her, Griffin leaned closer. “Me.”

  As the breath rushed from her lungs, Eleanor raised her eyes to his, and a deep blush spread to her cheeks.

  ***

  As their luggage was brought upstairs, Henry and Nick proceeded toward the terrace of Stanhope Grove, joyous voices drifting to their ears, their cheerfulness in stark contrast to the tortured look on Nick’s face. With his hands clenching and unclenching, a haunted expression in his eyes, Nick looked the picture of uncomfortable.

  “Have you ever been here before?” Henry asked, holding his breath as he waited for his brother’s answer.

  Nick’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you say that?”

  “I admit your reaction to meeting Eleanor and Lord Stanhope the other day made me wonder. Why is it that you resent them so?”

  “I do not resent them,” Nick forced out through clenched teeth, then stepped around Henry and out onto the terrace.

  Following his brother, Henry was about to enquire further when his gaze fell on Eleanor and his heart beat a little faster.

  Standing below in the gardens, she was in conversation with an unknown young woman when her mother came walking over with an equally unknown young man by her side. Words were exchanged as Henry strained to listen. However, from the terrace he could not make out what was said.

  Then his heart stopped when he saw Lady Stanhope draw the young woman away, leaving Eleanor in the company of the rather handsome young man, who seemed overly familiar with Henry’s future bride. The way he watched her before leaning in and whispering something to her ear made Henry’s stomach turn. However, it was the way Eleanor suddenly blushed that almost brought him to his knees.

  Red, hot jealousy burnt in his heart, and he could not help but wonder if his brother had been right. Did Eleanor love him as much as he loved her? Or was her regard as fleeting as that of his eldest brother Stephen, in this moment moving on to the young man escorting her deeper into the gardens?

  “I want you to know that I take no pleasure from this,” Nick spoke beside him; “however, I am glad that you saw this. Maybe now you can understand your love is not meant to be. Maybe Stephen is right, and our reputation is what keeps us safe from falling into love’s trap.”

  Gritting his teeth, Henry hurried down the steps, barely aware that his brother was following on his heel, his eyes fixed on the young couple until they walked around a tall hedge and were lost from sight.

  Quickening his steps, Henry felt his heart hammering in his chest, ready to burst.

  “Mr. Waltham.”

  Head snapping up at the sound of his name, Henry blinked, his vision momentarily unfocused.

  “Welcome to Stanhope Grove,” Lord Stanhope addressed him, a small assembly of guests watching the two latest arrivals with curiosity.

  “How wonderful that you could join us,” his wife added, her face aglow as she smiled at him. “I know Eleanor will be very pleased to see you.”

  Forcing himself to remain where he was, Henry greeted his host and endured the seemingly endless introductions. However, the moment Lord Stanhope addressed Nick, he mumbled an excuse and hurried away, unable to care about the rudeness of his behaviour. All he could think about was Eleanor in the arms of another man.

  Coming around another hedge, he spotted them up ahead, and once more, his legs were almost knocked out from under him.

  Biting her lower lip, Eleanor shyly averted her gaze, her cheeks flushed, a moment before the young man took her hand in his, his eyes focused on her, a deep smile on his face.

  Storming toward them, Henry hoped he would be able to restrain himself and not challenge the stranger to a duel over Eleanor’s hand.

  Never would he have seen this coming!

  Chapter Eight − Jealousy

  “Is it true that someone stole your heart?” Griffin asked without preamble, his dark brown eyes intent on her face.

  Drawing in a sharp breath, Eleanor almost flinched as she stared at him.

  A soft chuckle rose from his throat. “Winifred told me,” he explained, his gaze openly sea
rching hers as though seeking to uncover her secrets. Eleanor had all but forgotten Griffin’s annoying ability to read those around him like open books. “We have no secrets,” he added, a slightly apologetic expression in his eyes. “Please do not hold it against her. She would never betray your trust.”

  Eleanor sighed, feeling her muscles relax. Although she had not seen Griffin in a long time, he, too, was an old friend, and she realised that she felt comfortable in his presence. Smiling, she shook her head. “I know that she wouldn’t. Believe me I’m not angry. I was simply…surprised.” As the tension that had held her body rigid in the last few weeks slowly dissipated further, Eleanor sighed. “To tell you the truth, it is quite a relief to be able to speak of Henry openly.”

  “Ahh,” Griffin replied, another mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “he has a name. Henry it is then.”

  “Henry Waltham,” Eleanor added.

  For a moment, Griffin frowned before he shrugged. “I can’t say I’ve heard the name before.”

  Eleanor inhaled deeply, the words about to leave her tongue twisting her insides painfully. “I suppose my mother would not be surprised. After all, she considers him a no one, someone not worthy of our lineage and position.” Closing her eyes, Eleanor exhaled slowly.

  “Obviously, you disagree,” Griffin observed, his kind eyes watching her carefully as she struggled to find words to explain the turmoil that had lived in her heart for so long.

  “He is a good man,” Eleanor finally said as she believed with every fibre of her being that that was what was truly important. “He is kind and caring. He puts my well-being before his own. He respects my wishes even if doing so is a torment to him.” Eleanor sighed, wondering if she was being fair to Henry. “He is the one who deserves better.”

  “Better than your mother?” Griffin said, a touch of humour in his voice. “Possibly. Better than you?” He lowered his head slightly and held her gaze, his eyes so insistent as though he could will his words into existence. “Not possible.”

  A soft smile came to Eleanor’s face, and she felt herself relax as relief flooded her heart to have found an ally. After the way Winifred had reacted−although she had only meant to be helpful−it was incredibly liberating to speak to Griffin so openly and have him understand. “It feels wonderful to be able to speak about Henry so freely,” she told him honestly. “From the moment we met, the moment we fell in love, my mother made it clear that our hopes were not to be. I don’t even remember a time when we were carefree in our joy to have found each other. It feels like one endless struggle, and with each day that passes, my fear grows that we will not succeed in changing her mind.”

  “There is always a solution,” Griffin whispered, his eyes steady as though he had already found it. “If you truly love him, you must not give up.”

  “I won’t,” Eleanor assured him, his words giving her strength. “Thank you, Griffin. I have truly missed you.”

  Griffin laughed, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “And I have missed you, dear Eleanor. Let us agree not to be strangers again.”

  Nodding vigorously, Eleanor smiled.

  Again, a grin tugged at the corner of Griffin’s mouth. “Your Henry truly must be an exceptional man if he managed to win your heart.” Awe shining in his eyes, he shook his head as though in disbelief. “I’ve never seen your eyes shine like that. If that isn’t proof enough, I don’t know what is.”

  Speechless, Eleanor smiled as a slight blush crept up her cheeks, and she stared at Griffin in amazement. Had he always been this intuitive? This sensitive?

  Gently, he took her hand in his, giving it a tender squeeze and said, “I wish you two all the best. Should you need my help, you need only ask.”

  “Thank you, Griffin,” Eleanor whispered, lowering her head as she wondered if there was anything he could do. “I shall not forget this.”

  In that moment, angry footsteps echoed to her ears, and she turned her head as Griffin looked up and over her shoulder. Instantly, her eyes widened and worry crept into her heart as she saw Henry striding toward them, his face in an angry scowl. Never had she seen him like this. Something awful must have happened.

  “Henry!” Eleanor exclaimed, turning to the man she loved without hesitation. “What’s happened? Did my mother−?”

  “What's going on here?” Henry snarled, his hands clenched at his sides as though he could barely keep his anger under control. With gritted teeth, he stared at her before his gaze shifted to Griffin, glaring at her friend with unconcealed hatred.

  “What do you mean?” Eleanor asked, confusion drawing down her brows. “May I introduce you to−”

  Griffin chuckled beside her, “He’s jealous, dear Eleanor.” He turned a questioning gaze on Henry. “Is that not true?”

  Instantly, Henry’s shoulders tensed and his hands balled into fists, his eyes shooting daggers at Griffin, who apparently found this whole situation terribly amusing as another round of chuckles echoed to Eleanor’s ears.

  “I shall take my leave then,” Griffin stated, slightly bowing his head to Eleanor before he stopped in front of Henry. “You have nothing to fear,” he said, his voice serious without its usual touch of humour. “Her heart is yours. Never doubt that.”

  Then Griffin turned and walked away, leaving them behind in a cloud of awkward silence.

  ***

  For a long moment, they remained quiet as they each were lost in their own thoughts. Feeling his anger dissipate, Henry glanced at Eleanor, hoping she would not be offended by his lack of decorum, his lack of restraint. Had he just now almost attacked a guest at Eleanor’s party? A man who was obviously a friend?

  Instantly, a new wave of jealousy rushed to his chest, and Henry forced a deep breath down his lungs, seeking to control it.

  “Is it true?” Eleanor demanded, her blue eyes watchful as they roamed his face. “Are you jealous?”

  Gritting his teeth, Henry nodded. He would not make it worse by lying to her. How could he ever have thought that she had broken his brother’s heart? He must have been insane to think so even for a moment. There had to be another explanation for Nick’s odd behaviour.

  A soft smile came to Eleanor’s face, and the air rushed from Henry’s lungs in a wave of relief as he realised that she was not angry with him. “He is only a friend,” she said confirming his thoughts, her clear blue eyes holding his without wavering. “We’ve known each other for years, and I’ve never looked at him the way I look at you. Can you not see that?”

  Joy soared through him, and yet, a touch of doubt remained. Stepping closer, Henry tentatively reached for her hands. “Is it true?” he whispered, his eyes searching hers. “Does your heart truly belong to me?”

  Again, Eleanor blushed, and she momentarily averted her gaze before meeting his eyes once more, her cheeks aglow. Then she inhaled deeply and nodded her head in affirmation. “It is.”

  Henry swallowed, and all his doubts vanished. Wrapping his hands more tightly around hers, he pulled her closer. “I apologise for the way I acted, for jumping to such a conclusion.” He inhaled deeply, realising that baring one’s heart to someone was not as easy as he had thought, even if that someone was Eleanor. After all, today had taught him how vulnerable she made him and how much his happiness depended on her. “Despite everything we’ve been through,” he whispered, “we’ve never told each other how we truly feel, have we?”

  Swallowing, Eleanor shook her head, her gaze holding his as she waited for him to continue.

  Again, Henry drew in a deep breath, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I want you to know how I feel, to truly know and not just suspect.” He nodded his head in emphasis. “I love you, Eleanor. I have since the moment I first saw you. You’re everything to me, and I cannot imagine my life without you. I refuse to imagine it without you, for I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I shall never be happy without you by my side.” He gripped her hands more tightly, his head lowering as he gazed into her eyes, now slightly moi
st with tears. “I love you.”

  Sniffling, Eleanor blinked, and a single tear ran down her cheek as a delighted smile−heart-breaking in its intensity−lit up her beautiful face. “I feel the same way,” she breathed, pushing herself against him in an almost desperate need to be closer. “I love you as well.”

  As utter joy invaded his being, Henry yanked Eleanor into his arms and claimed her mouth in a desperate kiss.

  At first, she tensed, startled at the ferocity of his feelings. However, only a split second later, she leaned into him, her arms snaking up and coming around his neck, pulling herself closer, as she returned his kiss with the same passion that lived in his heart.

  Henry could have stayed in this moment forever if only Lady Stanhope’s enraged voice had not drifted to their ears in precisely that moment, cutting through their joy like a sharp knife.

  Jerking their heads apart, they stared at each other.

  “Mother?” Eleanor exclaimed as she gathered her skirts and ran back to the house.

  Chapter Nine − The Truth of the Matter

  As her heart thudded in her chest, partly from Henry’s kiss and partly from the tone of outrage in her mother’s voice, Eleanor willed her legs to move faster. Never had the path up from the gardens stretched before her so endlessly.

  Before long, Henry was by her side again, offering her his arm as he pulled her forward and around the last hedge separating them from the terrace.

  As before, their guests stood in small clusters. However, where moments ago they had conversed amiably with one another, they now stood staring at Lady Stanhope.

  With arms akimbo, she had stopped only a few steps onto the terrace, her eyes wide with shock and her face pale as a sheet.

  Terror seized Eleanor’s heart at the sight, and she released Henry’s arm and rushed forward. “Mother? Are you all right?” Reaching her just as her brother stepped forward as well, his gaze narrowed in concern, Eleanor grasped her mother’s hands.