Pomegranate Seeds ➸ Alistair

v

"Are you excited, Eloise?" her father asked the following morning when she came down for breakfast. Her parents and Henry were the only three still at the table; the rest of her siblings had already finished scarfing down their meals and had scampered off to who-knows-where.

Eloise offered what she hoped to be a believable smile in return. "I'd say more nervous than excited, father."

He laughed, clearly in good spirits. "He will like you, I am sure of it."

Like. Not love.

"Yes," Eloise said slowly, taking her seat. "I hope so."

"He'd be a fool not to," Henry interjected, taking a swig of milk. "Any man would be lucky to have you as a wife, I think."

"Thank you, Henry," she said, and he nodded.

"He's supposed to arrive at three," her father continued. "Alistair stopped by early this morning to leave a message with one of the servants: he'll be gone for the day, which truly works in our favor."

"Perhaps he knew, and that's why he left," Eloise said, disliking her father's tone and coming to Alistair's defense in the only way she could think of.

"Yes, perhaps. He's always been a considerate fellow, that much I'll say," her father agreed. "Odd, though. I'll tell you, him skulking around so much has had your mother and I feeling uneasy, not that we would ever say such a thing to him. And the way he sticks to you, Eloise. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he fancies you!"

Eloise choked on her drink. Henry thumped her back until she waved him off. "Fancies me, Father? Why would you suggest such a thing?"

"He does seem to favor you over the rest of us, El," Henry said, grinning at his sister. "Perhaps it's nothing, but all I'll say is he's never asked me to walk with him."

"It is no matter regardless," her mother interjected. "Eloise is engaged and will be married within a month."

There was a sudden lump in Eloise's throat, tears burning behind her eyes. She would be married in two weeks to a baron twice her age. Why had she been so foolish as to allow herself to care for Alistair? It did nothing but make letting go all the more difficult.

"Are you well?" her mother asked, noticing her sudden change in countenance.

"A sudden headache," Eloise said, her voice thick. "I think it may be wise for me to go lie down for a while, so I feel well for the baron's arrival."

"Yes, go rest," her father agreed. "You've been looking tired as of late, that's the likely culprit."

"You're probably right, Father. I haven't been sleeping well," Eloise agreed, and left the table.

She didn't even know why she was crying, not really. Perhaps it was because the reality of her marrying the baron had finally set in with his arrival so immanent, or because Alistair had given her the taste of freedom she so sorely craved, only for it to be stolen away.

Or perhaps it was something else entirely, something she was too scared to name.

As they stood in front of their home, watching the baron's coach draw closer, Eloise couldn't help but wish she had asked Alistair to stay. She had always thought of him as invincible, and when he was with her, she felt invincible too.

"Stand up straight," her mother murmured to her. Eloise straightened her shoulders, which she didn't even realized she had hunched.

The coach rolled to a stop, and the door opened before the driver could move from his seat to open it. The man who stepped from the coach was refined, likely a little taller than Alistair, and radiated power. The way he moved was unsettling; he walked as if he owned the ground he walked on. He was a handsome man, with dark hair and eyes, and Eloise was grateful that he at least was not ugly.

In her opinion, however, which would never be voiced, she did not think he held even a candle to Alistair.

"Baron Winslough," her father greeted, shaking hands with the baron. "Your journey was well, I hope?"

"Oh, nothing to complain about," Baron Winslough said, his voice deeper and smoother than Eloise expected. "You have a fine home, Mr. Byron."

"Thank you, thank you. This is my wife, Mary, my eldest son, Henry, and my eldest daughter, Eloise, who I know you have been most eager to meet," her father said.

The baron's eyes flashed to her as she curtsied. Eloise couldn't discern whether the emotion held within was good or not. He smiled. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Byron. Your beauty has not been exaggerated; I am truly a lucky man."

"The pleasure is mine, sir. I have heard nothing but praises of you from my father," Eloise said. He kissed her hand, and when he had looked away to speak with Henry, she discretely wiped it on her dress.

The baron traveled in the company of two others besides his driver: his personal servant and one of his good friends. His friend was a gentleman by the name of Edward Fulton, and Eloise did not like the way he looked at her.

The afternoon passed as pleasantly as Eloise imagined it could under the circumstances, but she could not tamper her feeling of unease around the baron and his friend. They were both pleasant and sociable, but Eloise could not help but feel that this was a veneer, and she feared what was underneath.

Henry had disappeared sometime in the course of the evening, as had Edward Fulton, after the rest of her siblings had all been sent to bed. Her parents were all too happy to comply with the baron's wishes that they be left to converse in private.

"I'm quite pleased with you," Baron Winslough said to her once they were alone. "You are both beautiful and sensible, precisely the sort of thing I look for in a wife. I am afraid that my late wife held much beauty but very little sense."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Eloise offered lamely, unsure of what else to say.

"It's nothing now. Her death was some years ago," he said. "Besides, it would be quite awkward if I married you while still mourning my wife, hmm?"

"Yes, I suppose." She spoke carefully, uneasy.

"Sit by me," he said. Eloise sensed that this was not so much a request as it was an order. Hesitantly she moved to the sofa he was seated on, perching herself as far away as possible.

He laughed, though she could tell it was not genuine. "Come, Eloise, we are engaged. You may sit closer than that."

"It would not be proper, Baron Winslough," she said. She didn't like how he said her name. "We are not married yet, after all."

His smile dropped, as did his friendly tone. "We soon will be. That you have no choice in. It may be wise, then, for you to stay in my good graces. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

"Yes," she whispered. There was a threat in his voice.

He smiled mirthlessly. "Good. Now, won't you sit by me?"

"If that is what you wish," she said, moving closer. She clasped her hands together, keeping them from shaking. Her intuition had been right. Fear clawed at her insides.

"That's much better," he said. His dark eyes, so different from Alistair's, watched her. "Have you ever courted anyone before, Eloise?"

Her voice was barely a whisper. "No."

"I did not believe so. Normally, courting couples would not be so physically intimate, but seeing as we are engaged, I would not be outside propriety to ask for a kiss from my fiancée. Would I?"

Eloise wanted to cry. But it was just a kiss, she told herself. If it kept her in his good graces, she could perhaps still salvage this. "No," she said, her voice hardly stronger than before.

"I am so glad we're in agreement," he said. They kissed, and tears pricked at her eyes. The kiss was rough, bruising, and he looked satisfied when he pulled back to see her tear-filled eyes. "You may go."

Forgetting propriety and only just choking back a sob, Eloise fled.

~~❀~~

You can kill me if you want. I probably deserve it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, though - Alistair will be back in the next. Thank you for all the support!