The Emerald Viscountess

~11~

"Despicable!" Eleanora spat, throwing the latest Whistledown into the fireplace in the study, disgusted at what that wretched woman had to write about her. Unfortunately her words already escaped her before realizing that everyone else was already asleep. She turned to Anthony, who was pouring the contents of a bottle of whiskey into two glasses while leaning against his desk. Eleanora had to refrain her eyes from gazing from the couch at Anthony in his white shirt, the shadows on his face and body from the fireplace being the only source of light.

"I vaguely recall how enraptured you were in reading those pamphlets not that long ago. Now you're just merely living in them," Anthony teased, handing Eleanora her glass.

She gulped down some of it without giving a reaction to the burn going down her throat. "You say that so calm, but wait until what Whistledown will say about you," she pointed out.

For most of that night, Eleanora and Anthony drank and conversed, discussing all sorts of topics relating to the social season, including confessing their fears and expectations.

"So," Anthony said, downing his drink. "Who do you want to marry?"

"A prince," Eleanora laughed. "No, better yet, a king!" She gasped dramatically. "Better, yet, I'll marry God!"

Anthony could tell at this point that the alcohol was affecting her head. He laughed at the statement, and she joined, accidentally letting out a snort. Anthony's face straightened when he thought of what he wanted to ask Eleanora, unsure if it was the appropriate time, given her drunken state.

"Nora, can I ask you of something?" Anthony said, setting down his glass and clasping his hands together in front of him. "Were you happy with your late husband?"

It felt like a bucket of ice water was dumped on Eleanora. That question somehow sobered her up.

"What makes you ask that?" she asked, hoping the light from the fireplace didn't show that her eyes were watering or her chin was quivering.

"Given that you are in search of a husband; don't you still think about Russell?"

"No," Eleanora retorted with a humorless laugh. A tear trickled down and she hoped Anthony didn't see her wipe it away.

"May I ask, why not?" Anthony said, his voice softened.

"He would hit me. He would become angry over little things then proceed to hit until I'd bruise or bleed," Eleanora confessed, the words spilling out like overboiling water in a pot. She let out a small sob, preventing the others from escaping, but she continued to sniffle.

Anthony switched from by his desk to sitting beside Eleanora, embracing her as she quietly cried into his shirt, while she worried that her tears would soak through. "Nora, I didn't know," he whispered against her hair, rubbing her back slowly.

"It was awful, Anthony," she sobbed into his shirt. "Ten years. Ten years of nothing but that."

They rocked back and forth slowly in unison, and Anthony finally said, "We will find you a better husband who will do no such thing to you. I may have not made good judgement when I promised your first marriage would be good, but I would put it on my life that you will find yourself a husband this season; a good one."

It felt like Anthony was being stabbed in the heart repeatedly, and the knife was twisting. He finally knew why Eleanora spoke so ill of her late husband, and rightfully so. That man was not a husband, he was a monster. And Eleanora was the last person to deserve the abuse he had befallen on her. Anthony Bridgerton would do anything and everything in his power to find Eleanora a husband that deserved her.

~~~

"Well then, Nora, are you ready for me to beat you at racing again?" Anthony taunted, saddling up his horse.