"I am refusing to dismiss twelve households for the convenience of a purchaser."
Margaret gave a small sigh. "My dear, a duchess need not occupy herself with tradesmen and leaking roofs."
Eleanor drew out her chair. "The rain will not spare them because I have acquired a title."
Julian's eyes lifted sharply. "Must everything become an argument?"
She remained standing. "Only when you mistake my silence for agreement."
For a moment, the only sound was the clock on the mantelpiece. Then Julian opened the leather folder beside his plate and withdrew the prepared sale document. Eleanor recognized the purchaser's name at the top. Her husband had pursued the matter without consulting her.
"Sit down," he said. "We will settle this now."
Eleanor looked at the empty chair, then at the pen waiting beside his hand. "No," she said quietly. "First, Your Grace, you will tell me what you have already promised."
"What I have promised," Julian repeated, "is a perfectly reasonable sale at a price considerably above what that aging building deserves."
Eleanor did not move. The fire shifted in the grate, sending a brief shower of sparks against the iron screen. "To whom?" she asked.
"Mr. Percival Grant. He intends to purchase the property and incorporate it into a larger commercial development."
"And the people employed there?"
Julian's fingers tightened around the letter. "That will be the purchaser's concern."
Eleanor looked at him for a long moment. "Then you have promised him something that is not yours to give."
Lady Margaret set down her cup. "Eleanor, there is no need to speak to your husband as though he were an irresponsible schoolboy."
"I am asking him a question, Lady Margaret."
"You are questioning his judgment."
Eleanor turned back to Julian. "Have you signed anything?"
"No." The answer came quickly enough to be believable, but his expression told her he resented having to give it. "I have indicated that the sale can proceed once the necessary formalities are completed."
"My signature being one of them."
"Naturally."
She pulled out her chair and sat. The movement was deliberate, almost painfully controlled. Julian watched her smooth her skirt beneath the table. He had known men who shouted over far smaller disagreements; Eleanor's composure made him feel as though he were the one behaving badly, which only sharpened his irritation.
"The workshop is losing value," he said. "I am offering you an opportunity to dispose of a troublesome responsibility."