Margaret shifted in her chair.
Julian leaned forward. "Eleanor, you cannot expect me to continue financing a life in which you oppose every reasonable decision I make."
"I have never asked you to finance my workshop."
"This is not merely about the workshop."
"Then perhaps you should have written what it is truly about."
His expression hardened.
Eleanor laid the pages neatly together. "I will not accept your fortune, Julian."
Margaret gave a startled breath. "My dear girl, do you understand the amount you are refusing?"
"Perfectly." Eleanor pushed the document across the table. "I will leave Ashkam Hall as he has suggested, but I will not surrender my workshop, and I will not accept money offered on the condition that I abandon it."
Julian stared at the papers. "You would walk away from thirty thousand pounds?"
"I would walk away from thirty thousand pounds that require me to betray twelve families."
"You are allowing pride to govern you."
A faint, wounded smile touched her mouth. "You taught me that pride is something a person must occasionally defend."
The words struck harder than anger would have. Julian lowered his gaze. "Where do you intend to go?"
"There is an apartment above the workshop. My father lived there before his death. I have kept it furnished."
"It is hardly suitable for a duchess."
"It was suitable for Eleanor Hayes."
Silence settled over the table. Margaret reached for the document, but Eleanor placed one hand upon it. "Please leave it there. It belongs to His Grace."
She rose. Julian stood instinctively. "Eleanor—"
For the first time that evening, her composure faltered. Her fingers tightened around the back of her chair. He saw the effort it cost her to remain standing before him.
"Do you truly mean to go?" he asked quietly.
She looked directly into his eyes. "You offered me a separate life this morning. I am accepting that part of your proposal."
She turned toward the door. Julian took one step after her, then stopped. He had no idea what he could say without making matters worse.