Work Text:
You can try to resist
try to hide from my kiss
but you know, don't you know that you
can't fight the moonlight?
LeAnn Rimes - Can't Fight The Moonlight
At midnight, the moon's glow was the only light left in Mayfair, Eloise lay under the covers with Hyacinth, her little sister having cried out all her tears and then some but now at least she was sleeping. Eloise could only stare up at the canopy.
She had been searching for companionship for years. First, Benedict, her dearest brother. Second, Penelope, her dearest friend. Third… Well. She couldn't think of that, those nights, or she would end up crying too. Fourth, Cressida, who had now returned. Fifth, her little sister.
Growing old with any of them would be fun, she thought. They'd be like Lady Danbury and the Queen—always at an event together, laughing at some jape, plotting whatever chaos they'd like to see… They could pursue their own dreams—Benedict with his art and her with her writing, she and Hyacinth could host parties for other women together…
But none of them wanted that. Perhaps she could do it all alone. It would be more dull, but there would be the occasional companion along the way, and she could travel, and visit her family, and she could be happy that way.
If marriage was without its contractual complexities, without its inbuilt subservience of the feminine, without the risk of childbirth… If it was as her Mama described, simply spending one's life with a best friend, then Eloise could consider it. Only then.
It seemed impossible, anyway, as none of her best friends seemed interested in spending a life with her instead. Of course, everyone had their own desires and dreams… But it meant she was always put second, sometimes lower than that, and she could admit now in the quiet that it did sting. Just a little bit.
She rolled over and looked to the window, which was open ever so slightly to let in the calm night breeze, and watched the moonlight flow across the floor in a ray of silver. The moonlight swept across her eyes in a shimmer and closed her eyes in a veil of dreams.
A night time breeze swept in through the window and caressed her hair like a lover's touch. Eloise stirred and her eyes fluttered open. In the darkness, she could see little bar the bar of moonlight that stretched across the end of the bed like a silver ribbon as it fluttered with the flowing curtains. She sat up and went to push her hair back from her face out of habit only to find that her fringe was gone and her hair was tied back in a plait.
Hyacinth must've sorted her hair while Eloise was asleep. She groaned, stretched her neck, and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. It was then she saw the figure lying next to her. That was not her sister.
It was a man, that much she could tell even in the dark, she could see the wide slope of his shoulders as he lay on his side though his face was facing her it was hidden in shadow.
Right, then.
First things first, she needed a weapon. Luckily, the moonlight crossed the bedside table and welcomed her with a candlestick. She went to pick it up as quietly as she could, but her shifting woke the man next to her.
The man muttered, "You awake?"
His voice, rough was sleep, but it sounded familiar. Eloise froze and answered, "Yes."
"Mm. Love you," he mumbled.
What?
All she could focus on was his voice, and the echo of familiarity that rang in it. But… That simply was not possible. Not unless she was dreaming. Of course, she must've been. Eloise felt herself relax, and she lay back down on the bed. The man sighed tiredly, then put his arm around her and ran his thumb over her waist.
"Love you," he said again softly. "Can't believe you're real."
Eloise turned onto her side and now, close up, she could see the outline of his face. It was one she knew well, though one she had not expected to ever see again.
She whispered, "Theo."
"Mm?"
"Nothing," Eloise said. "I just wanted to say your name."
"Say my name like that in the morning and I will prove again to why you were right to return to me," Theo told her, with his eyes closed. "But for now we must sleep."
She felt his hand trail from her waist to her arm and his hand found hers. He clasped it and she felt a band of metal on his finger.
Eloise ran her finger over the metal ring and said, "We are married?"
In answer, Theo raised her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. Then, he turned over on his back and pressed her closer so that her head laid against his shirtless chest. His heartbeat sounded real, real and close, soft in its drumming but continuous in its hymn of home, and she closed her eyes just to linger in its beating.
"Holding you feels like a dream," he whispered.
"Why must we sleep?" she asked, confused.
"…You said you were tired," Theo said.
Eloise blinked her eyes open. "I don't feel tired now. Are you? Where even—"
He kissed her brow and the rest of her words left her.
"What do you desire?" Theo asked, suddenly very awake, his hand trailing down every notch of her spine to rest at the curve of her back. "Hm?"
"I—I don't—"
"You don't desire me?" he said. He pressed a kiss into the side of her neck and she felt him smirk. "What a coy lie. Come now, tell your husband what it is you want so he may deliver."
At her silence, Theo pulled away and cupped her cheek.
"If you wish to sleep, then we shall sleep," he said. "If you want for more, I would grant you more. Whatever you desire, it is my dearest wish to grant it, second only by the wish to hear you speak."
"Most people don't like to hear me talk so much," Eloise said.
"Do not waste your time thinking of fools now. Spare all your thoughts for me," Theo told her, then tucked her hair behind her ear. "Why are you awake, my love?"
Eloise tucked her face into his chest and lied, "It is nothing."
"Nothing?" he asked gently, stroking her hair.
"I try not to think about you very often," she told him. "This will make it more difficult for me."
"If I had a pound for every time I thought of you, I would be the richest man in the world. I think I may be the richest man right now, actually, since you are here with me, and love me back—what is more priceless than that treasure of your heart?"
She placed her left hand on his chest, over his heart, and sighed.
"What a sweet dream," Eloise muttered to herself.
He took her hand and kissed the wedding ring reverently, then entwined their fingers.
"We will have everything we have ever dreamed of," Theo promised. "All that you desire, we will make true."
The sweet promise made Eloise open her eyes where she caught the glint of moonlight peeking through the curtains. The moonlight glinted across Eloise's wedding ring, silver upon silver, and the glow shined across the whole room, turning her vision white.
"You slept like a log," Hyacinth told her, after a yawn. "You're not normally such a deep sleeper, but I couldn't even shake you awake. At least you didn't yawn like Greg does."
Eloise blinked and found herself at her sister's vanity table, where a maid had laid out a choice of hair pins and ribbons for the day. Her sister picked up a hairbrush and ran it through Eloise's tangled locks gently.
All Eloise could do was look down at her hand, which possessed no ring, and wonder if her sister's talk of marriage had sparked the dream, or if Eloise's mind had at least lost the battle to a war she had been fighting silently, brutally, day after day…
Nothing more than a dream, she told herself, and that was all it could ever be now. She must put it to the back of her mind, lock it away, and think of it no more, or she would be lost.
The maid, Hazel—Eloise remembered she had been friendly with Sophie—suggested a ribbon for her hair. Eloise nodded and Hyacinth happily tied it in to a plait.
She looked at the maid's uniform, remembered Sophie—Sophie, now to be her sister-in-law—and felt a wave of bitterness so powerful surge through her belly Eloise had to cling to the chair to stop herself throwing the hairbrush her sister handed to her.
If she had been a man, could she have kept visiting Theo? If she had been a man, perhaps it wouldn't have been so damaging to the family's reputation—certainly not her own.
"There," Hyacinth said. "All done. What do you think?"
Eloise turned her head and watched the silver ribbon (it was silver, not grey) shine in the sunlight. An echo of a dream.
"It is lovely," Eloise told her. "Thank you."
They spent the day together as a family. A picnic in the park. Then, reading together and telling stories around the fire in the evening. After Eloise's turn, her Mama took the book and began to read, while Anthony closed the curtains in the sitting room, and the last flecks of moonlight scattered over the fireplace that crackled in protest. Eloise closed her eyes and sank into the wing chair.
Eloise opened her eyes and found herself by another fireplace in a quiet sitting room. Her siblings were nowhere to be seen and she was certainly not in Bridgerton House—the fireplace was made of brick, the curtains were a darker blue, and a newspaper was folded onto the armrest of her chair —then, the fire crackled and, like a spark, she felt a kiss at her thigh.
Eloise looked down and saw him there (of course, it was him again haunting her thoughts) kneeling between her bare legs, hands at her knees, pressing kisses into her inner thighs.
"Keep reading, love, unless you want me to stop," Theo told her.
Reading?
"Go on, from the top," he said, kissing her thigh again, sending a flare of heat up from her stomach and her heartbeat increased so quickly she held a hand against her chest to try to calm it. "Read for me, Eloise, let me hear your voice."
As though compelled, Eloise picked up the newspaper with shaking hands and read, "The Queen's College - A Groundbreaking Effort in the—oh!"
The newspaper crinkled in her hands as his tongue lapped at her, dipping into her entrance only for a moment before licking at her bud, again and again. Helpless against the pleasure, Eloise's thighs closed around his head and she felt him moan—the vibrations of the sound sent shock-waves throughout her thighs.
"Keep reading," he said. "Or I'll stop."
Eloise let out a shaky breath, then did her best to focus on the page, "Effort in the Pursuit of Women's Formal Education—oh, God—The Queen proves herself to be a true patron of the arts as Her Majesty has f-funded—mm—funded a college for women, to be completed by 18—Theo, please, what, mm—"
He smacked the back of her thigh and said, "Read."
"By 1825, at the behest—uh—oh, the behest of Ms Eloise Bridgerton-Sharpe of the Bluestocking—what, what is—please—" Eloise broke, and another smack hit her thigh, making her moan again. She choked out a sob and tried to angle her hips away, for any reprieve from the relentless pursuit of her pleasure, but his hands gripped her thighs and pulled her closer to his tongue. His nose brushed against her clit and she cried out, dropping the newspaper onto her lap.
He pulled away and she whined, but lowered her head back into the chair and finally breathed.
"Can't you be good and read for me? No?" Theo said, picking up the paper. "You almost got to the best part. A shame."
He wiped his mouth against the back of his hand and she watched the ring glint in the moonlight. Then, he licked his lips and rolled the newspaper.
"I should smack you with this," he said. "Maybe then the words will hit you, quite literally, and your humility will cease."
"Humility?" Eloise asked, panting, as she pushed her hair back out of her face.
"You won't even read your own achievements unless I make you like this. But maybe I make it too nice for you," Theo said, thoughtfully, hitting the newspaper against his palm. "Shall we try it?"
Her core throbbed.
"You know what to say if you dislike it," he said softly.
Then, he held the newspaper to the space between her thighs and brought it down on her core once, twice—she yelped and slapped her hand over her mouth.
"That's against the rules," Theo said, looming over her, "Remember? You aren't to hide any of your sweet sounds from me."
Eloise lowered her hand. Then, to stop herself doing it again, she tucked her hands behind her back. He watched her silently, eyes dark but controlled.
"Good girl," he said. Theo threw the newspaper away and dropped back down to his knees. "Let your husband reward you."
Eloise threw her head back at the touch of his kisses and the last thing she saw was the moonlight sparkle on her dress, discarded on the floor. Then, her vision went white.
Eloise woke up in the wing chair at Bridgerton House, face flushed, although the fire had long gone out and the sitting room itself was cooling. Around her, her family slept, seemingly all dozed off in the middle of sharing stories. Eloise stumbled out of the chair and grabbed a candle. It took her a few tries to light it as her hands weren't steady, but she managed, and retreated from the room, and the chair, and thoughts of him—
But why had she even conjured such a dream of him? She had never even heard of doing such things in the bedchamber, and yet!
She hurried into her room and closed the door behind her, pressing her back against it, and pressed her hands to her cheeks—feeling the flushed warmth there, she grabbed her fan and fanned herself frantically, though even that did little to banish the very vivid image of him between her legs, his eyes on her as his tongue devoured her with well-practised movements. He had known her body better than she did. It was a near stranger to her, but, oh, why had she woken up before—
No, she shouldn't even think about it.
She shouldn't.
Eloise locked her bedroom door and bit her lip, then shook her head. She shouldn't, she shouldn't—
Good girl.
She ran her fingers through her hair and closed her eyes, remembering exactly how his tongue had loved her in the dream, how his hands had gripped her thighs, and whined. Then, she sank to the floor and parted her legs, slipping her hand between them in an echo of what he done in hopes of completing it, only to find her fingers couldn't mirror what his lips had done, and no amount of tapping on her clit or pinching on her thighs could reproduce the force of his insistence. She dropped her head onto her knees and groaned.
Eloise hardly slept at all that night and the nights after.
The ride home from My Cottage seemed long. Eloise spent much of it on horseback, mastering how best to canter and trot from Kate, who was perhaps the best horsewoman Eloise had ever met. Thankfully, she hadn't dreamt in the past week, although her waking mind gave her little relief—she wondered what he made of the bills being pushed through Parliament, if he had ever been to Kent, if he knew how to ride a horse (maybe she could teach him), if…
If he thought of her still.
"Your mind has been occupied, dear sister," Kate said, "Ever since the wedding, or perhaps before then, you have not been yourself."
"Just a few strange dreams," Eloise tried to reassure her. "It is nothing, really."
"Mm. I had nightmares after my father passed. I was haunted by thoughts of what could have been, if maybe I could have done something… Regret is a powerful thing." Kate tightened her grip on the reigns. "…I have heard what happened with Francesca—that so-called inspection—while we were gone, and that you were present for it."
Eloise nodded mutely.
"Such a thing will never happen again," Kate told her.
"You cannot promise that."
"There are many vultures in this world who would happily swoop in and feast upon any of our misfortunes. You see that too, I know, it is why I adore you so very much. But do not forget that this family has more influence than most. If the Lords insist on poor practices, then we will simply change the House of Lords."
"Sister, you cannot just throw everyone out of the chamber because—"
Kate scoffed. "Yes, we can and, yes, we will. I admit I have often despaired about the limits of women in our society, but how to fix it all seemed insurmountable. Now there is no other option. When we return to Aubrey Hall, Anthony's first task will be to pen a letter to Simon. I want you to think very hard about what you would like included in that letter."
Eloise looked at her with wide-eyes. "You… You're asking me about how to reform the house of Lords? No one would ever listen—"
"They will listen to your brothers and through them your words will be spoken. Now. Start thinking." Kate reached out and grasped her arm reassuringly. "These nightmares of yours… Just like bad dreams of mine, they are born from our regrets. The only way to banish them forever is to take action."
Eloise turned away and bit her tongue to stop herself from crying.
"What if… What if it is too late for any action to be taken?" Eloise asked.
"Oh, my dear. After I lost my father, I dreamt every night of losing my sister, so I did everything I could to keep her safe and happy. It was too late to speak to my father, too late to hold him, but I held onto what I had left. I am sorry, Eloise, that John is gone. He was a good man. Time took him too soon."
"Yes," Eloise muttered. "Life seems terribly short."
"It is," Kate told her.
Kate slowed their horses further as they came to the turning towards Aubrey Hall. As close as home was, Eloise had never felt more lost.
That night, she sat in her room with the curtains fully drawn and her head facing away from the windows. As long as she did not look at a sliver of moonlight, perhaps, she could be safe from lunatic visions.
This plan would have worked if not for the silver ribbon from her sister, which she tied around her hair at the end of a braid, and glinted at the corner of her vision as she prepared for bed at her vanity table.
Eloise blinked and she was sat on a different vanity stool with two candles alight and so her face was clear in the mirror. She ran her fingers through her shorter hair and searched for any other differences other than the wedding ring on her finger.
In the mirror, a bed was visible—it was not her own of Bridgerton House, but she knew it nonetheless.
She was in the guest rooms of Kilmartin Castle.
It was quiet.
She waited a moment for him to appear. Eloise half-expected him to appear over her shoulder, kissing her neck, at any second, but her dreams denied her. She told herself that the sinking in her gut was relief, and nothing else, as her visions had finally had mercy on her.
The absence of him did not feel like a mercy in truth.
"Enough of that," Eloise muttered.
Instead, to distract herself, she searched the room. It did not take long to find a pile of letters in the desk drawer, though her attention was pulled to an open one at the very top addressed to a:
"Ms Eloise Bridgerton-Sharpe,
Kilmartin Castle
Scotland."
She took the letter out of the envelope and read.
My dearest Eloise,
I genuinely hope you're doing well . Let me know how your sister and wife is doing—has the wardship been accepted? Life continues as normal here and business is good. Yes, yes, it was a good idea for one of us to stay, and I know it had to be me, but God when you return we are finding a manager or someone else so this situation is never repeated.
Your husband misses you very much. I can hear you now—"Theo, it has been three weeks, you silly man"—yes, three awful weeks of not a kiss from you, and it is so much worse now I know what loving you is like, I know what to miss, and exactly how to torture myself in imagination. The few years we were apart are nothing compared to this and I thought it was the worst of hells at the time. If you thought I had been coping well in your absence based on my very understated letters, then well you know your husband simply did not want to cause you any worry, but now I miss you much too badly, miss you so terribly I cannot lie.
I lie on your side of the bed at night for an echo of your warmth and it has grown lonely without you. The depths of my soul ache at your absence. I miss your japes over breakfast, the way you turn the newspaper so it crinkles loudly on purpose just to annoy me (we both know you enjoy irritating me, do not deny this), how you look at me through your eyelashes and say you are not full yet, how you kiss me—the very last breakfast we had together before you left, do you remember, of course you do, you sat on my lap, kissed me silly, then patted my cheek and ran away? Saying you were going to be late. Cruel woman. And, then, you write to me and say you were early! "Early upon arrival, darling, such a shame we could have filled the time", you write. You know what you have done and you delight in it I have no doubt.
Pity me. As much as you enjoy mocking me, do not tease me when you walk through the door, and if you are amiable, let us unite in the entry hall and agree we shall never part again. Have you not missed me? Write you have not missed my tongue if you can—you are not the best of liars and I know the taste of your honesty. Write to me immediately if you have missed me and tell me exactly how you have coped in my absence.
Write to me immediately even if you say you have not—I need to hear from you again, and if you insist on mocking me then know I will smack your bottom for every joke at my expense and the imprint of my hand will decorate your skin like roses. I will have you read out your letter to me and we shall count them.
Above all, write to me, my love, and tell me you are well. I miss you dearly.
All my love,
Your husband.
She ran her fingers over the last two words and wondered why it was such a thrill. He never placed her under ownership—never "my wife", always his love, his dearest—but forever referred to himself as hers.
Not that it mattered. The dreams were only her fantasies.
"Eloise, are you awake?" Anthony said, knocking on her bedroom door.
It was still dark out—dawn hadn't yet appeared, though it seemed her brother couldn't wait another moment to speak to her. It was rare, in fact, so Eloise groaned and sat up, rubbing her eyes, but said he could come in. He walked in carrying a glass of water and a candle almost nervously, a stance she wasn't used to seeing from him around her, and it took her aback. He sat on the edge of the bed and handed her the water, then placed the flickering candle on her bedside table beside a stack of books she had received a few years ago though it felt like a lifetime.
It have her a moment to compose herself, before she began to speak.
"Kate told me you'd be writing to a letter to Simon about the Lords," Eloise said, putting the glass down.
"Yes."
"And… you want my input?" she asked. "Are you sure?"
He nodded, then clasped her hand and squeezed. "Sister. I remember a girl who said she wanted to change the world. Full of wonder and passion. What happened to her?"
"Life, brother."
He kissed her forehead, then pulled her in for a hug.
"I worry about you," Anthony said, softly. "I had hoped you would enjoy Scotland."
"It was nice in a way, but maybe… Not what I was really looking for," she told him, then turned her head into his chest. After a long moment of listening to his heartbeat, Eloise asked, "How did you know you loved Kate?"
If he was surprised at the turn in conversation, Anthony didn't show it. Instead, he patted her hair and told her, "She said she would go to India. I realised then nowhere would ever be far enough for me to forget her. Does that make sense or do I sound—"
"No. I understand, I think."
He sighed, then pulled away, and cupped her cheeks. "I know mother would like to see you married. I know the pressure that can bring. All I want is for you to be happy. I had hoped working with us on reforming the Lords might make you happy."
"I am happy you trust me and would listen to me," Eloise said.
"Then why do you look so sad, hm?"
"I have many regrets, brother."
He patted her cheek and said, "Then let us make sure you have no more."
She didn't tell him about her first season out, though she supposed that could have been the moment to do it, but she had never truly told anyone. It felt like her own little secret, a precious thing, that would disappear into the ether the moment Eloise put it into words.
He left her to sleep and, when morning came, Eloise went to his office. Together, they crafted a plan to change one little piece of the world they lived in.
Kate was right. Taking action did make her feel better.
Eloise stretched her arms and rose from her desk. She'd finished writing a letter to Daphne, informing her they had returned to Aubrey Hall, and desperately wanted a cup of tea before bed.
It had been two weeks since her last dream. Theo hadn't even been in it. And she had been busy ever since then. Surely, by now, she could say the nights of being haunted were over. Like Kate had said, she thought as she walked down the stairs, all it was were visions born from regrets.
She had moved on from it.
She was fine.
At the first glint of moonlight peeking through the windows, Eloise slammed her eyes shut and breathed out harshly. It was ridiculous, to fear it, but she worried another vision would break her apart.
Maybe she wasn't so fine after all.
She could wait for a cup of tea. Eloise turned on her heels and held onto the stair bannister as she made her way back up the steps. When she hadn't reached the top after five steps, as expected, Eloise opened her eyes.
She faced an unfamiliar staircase, leading to a stranger landing, in dark wood and plush rugs. Above her, an unlit chandelier showered silver spots of reflected light from its metal frame. Eloise clung to the stair bannister and looked down at her hand, once again donning a wedding ring, then looked behind her.
A suitcase, presumably hers, had been hastily dropped at the base of the stairs.
Eloise started walking up the steps. The house, wherever she was, appeared to be a well-looked after townhouse. The landing was lined by an array of bookcases, all filled to the brim, and every shelf had some trinket or antique of some kind. She was rather fond of the little blue vase, which looked to be from China, a wonky candle that appeared to be homemade, and a small, framed portrait of her parents signed by Benedict.
Further down the landing, down the corridor, was an open door with light peering through. It was the only open door she could see and from it hear someone moving.
Let it be him through that door. Let her see him again. Just once. And then she would let it go (at last), the memories would wash away with time, if the moonlight would grant her one last look at him, she would learn how to withstand the absence of him.
As Eloise approached the door, she feared one thing—she had forgotten what he looked and sounded like and that was why she had not even envisioned him again.
She stopped beside the doorway and peered inside the room. It was the same bedroom she had dreamt of weeks ago, though this time a tub had been filled at the far back of the room, and a man whose back she knew well stood over it. Eloise rested her head against the doorframe and simply watched him. Watched him fetch a towel and fold it over the tub. Watched him place a large tray across the tub, light a candle, and anxiously scratch his chin over which book to place on the tray.
Of all things to envision him doing… he looked so very silly worrying over what book to read in the bath that Eloise laughed.
"Theo, what are you even doing?" she asked, walking into the room. "Here, let me pick—"
Theo turned around and, in a moment, Eloise was in his arms. He held her close, then lifted her in the air and twirled her in a circle with a smile so joyful it made her dizzy.
"You're home," he said, finally putting her back down on the ground. "Eloise. You're home."
"So it seems."
Theo rolled his eyes fondly, then kissed her cheek. "You were so bold in your letters and yet… Have you forgotten your promises? I've run a bath for you."
"Bold in my letters?" she asked.
"Yes. What was it you wrote last? Ah, 'when I return home from Scotland, I will prove how much I've missed you, so long as you have a bath ready for me.' That's what you said. And every night since then I have made a bath for you, waiting for your return, hearing your words in my mind and missing you more than ever. Now, the torture is over, and you are here," Theo said. He rested his forehead in the crook of her shoulder and held her waist. "So why do you not embrace me back? Must you insist on teasing me still?"
Eloise swallowed a nervous breath, then placed a hand on the back of his head and ran her fingers through his hair.
"I have missed you," she admitted.
"Yes. And?"
"And?" Eloise asked.
He kissed the side of her neck and said, "Torture me again later. For now, come, let me help you undress. Relax, you're—"
"Undress?"
"You can hardly relax in the bath with your clothes on," he said jokingly.
Eloise felt her cheeks burning. She cleared her throat, then told him, "I will take the bath, thank you, but you need to turn around while I undress and you're not to look—not even a peek—until I tell you to."
"Torturess," he said. "You return to me in that dress, laughing at me, and order me about as you so like to do. Have I not waited well for you?"
Her dress?
Eloise looked at her sleeves, then her bodice, and realised it almost certainly the same dress, with a few adjustments, that she had worn when she had gone to meet with him at the assembly.
Eloise shook her head. "It's only a dress. I don't see what it matters."
"You know. I have told you. You've had my heart since then." He took her hand and kissed the back of it, then kissed the back of her sleeve where her veins pulsed rapidly. "And you tell me I cannot look as you remove it? Temptress."
His teeth pulled at the button of her sleeve and undid it. Theo kissed her veins directly and moaned. "Have mercy on your poor husband, Eloise."
He looked at her desperate and pleading.
She liked it.
"No."
Eloise slipped her wrist out of his grip and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Without protest, Eloise turned him so that his gaze faced the wall away from the bath, and began undoing her buttons.
"You've missed me, then?" Eloise asked, dropping her skirts to her feet.
"Were my letters not clear?"
"Tell me again," she instructed.
He was good at following instructions.
"Eloise. There was not a day where my mind didn't spare a thought for you. Of course I missed you. You are the best part of my existence and I would spend every day with you if I could. I love you more than anything, so let me look at you, let me see you—"
"Why? Have you forgotten what I look like? Surely your imagination is good enough," Eloise quipped as she stepped into the bath.
The water was warm, welcoming, and almost as pleasant as his tortured groan. Eloise sank into the bath as the silvered moonlight glowed across the water.
"If you ask very nicely," she whispered, "I might let you."
"You're a cruel woman to ask me to beg when I have done nothing but that since you left."
"That doesn't sound like asking nicely," Eloise teased.
She moved the tray, and at the sound of the water splashing, his shoulders tensed. She thought, if she asked, he would get down on his knees with his eyes closed to beg to see her, and the idea of it burned through her like liquid fire.
"I've missed you very much," she admitted. "I don't think there are many in this world who truly understand me like you do. You know me like no other."
"Hiding your face from me while you talk like that is cruelty. Do me the kindness of letting me see you."
"Fine," Eloise agreed. "You can look, but you can't touch me."
Right away, Theo turned around to see her, and groaned when the tray he had placed himself covered the view of her chest. He fell to his knees at the side of the tub and rested his forehead against it—a poor substitute for her—then looked at her pitifully.
"I want to kiss you. I've been starved of the taste of your sweet mouth for too long," he pleaded. "Will you allow me that?"
She shook her head and he looked so devastated she raised her hand from the water and pressed her fingers against his lips, then placed them against her own.
"There," Eloise said. "We've kissed."
"Truly, have you not missed my kisses?"
Eloise licked her lips, then asked, "Should I have?"
His eyes then changed from pleading to something more wild.
"I will have my revenge for this, you know," Theo said lowly.
Eloise picked up the sponge from the bath tray and washed herself, running it over her arms and looking into his eyes as she did.
"What will you do?" she asked, nervous and excited all at once.
He didn't answer immediately, instead choosing to watch as she scrubbed her legs. When her hand dipped under the water to wash her thighs, out of his view, she heard him sigh.
"I should drag you out of this damn bath and throw you back into our bed and give us both what we want—"
She interrupted him with a teasing smirk, "What makes you think we both want it?"
"If I touched you right now, you would be wet for me."
"It would only be water," Eloise said blandly.
"You want me," Theo insisted, half-pleading.
She argued, "You have no evidence."
"I've suddenly become a man of faith, then. I have faith that my love is returned and faith that my love keeps her promises."
"Remind me what I promised you," Eloise said.
"You said you would show me exactly how much you missed me."
Very well, then. Eloise pushed the tray away from her, though she kept one hand over her chest to block it from view. Then she slowly trailed a hand down her stomach, down into the water, and smirked when she heard Theo curse.
"Why would I want you?" she asked. "I can satisfy myself."
"It's better when I do it," he told her.
"Is it?"
"You are being cruel," Theo whined, aching to touch her.
"I like it when you praise me more than this," she said.
"I'll praise you when you've earned it, Eloise. Why must you insist on making me wait to touch you after so long? At least let me kiss you. Just once. Then I will wait patiently, for as long as you like, for God's sake, just let me kiss you."
Eloise rubbed circles over her clit and moaned, perhaps more loudly than truth, but she loved the effect it had on him—that vein in his forehead, his tight grip on the side of the tub, a bead of sweat running down his cheek—she loved it so much that she leaned forward, pressed her forehead against his, and watched him close his eyes in relief that she finally allowed him that much.
Then, she smirked, and said, "No."
He groaned and sank into the floor, while she released a delighted laugh at all the signs of his torture, and squeezed her breast with her other hand just to watch him fall again.
"You're so handsome when you beg," Eloise told him.
"That does not make me feel any better." He sighed longingly. "At least tell me you're thinking of me. Tell me you've imagined my hands. Tell me you need me or I'll go mad."
Eloise slipped a finger inside. Her head rolled back onto the back of the tub as she told him, "What if I don't? What will you do then?" She curled her finger. "Would you carry me out of the bath? Throw me on the bed? Kiss me—oh—and take what you want?"
"No."
"Why… Why not?"
"You said I can't touch you," he said, "So I won't. But, God, I want to. You're so beautiful."
"Kiss me, then."
He crawled closer to her and leaned over the tub. He cupped her cheek and turned her head towards him and asked, "Do you mean it?"
Eloise smiled cruelly.
"I said kiss me. Not touch me. You can't do either now." She glanced down at his trousers and said, "Show me you've missed me too."
Though he cursed her, Theo pulled away from her and stood. He undid his belt, tossed it onto the bed, and took himself in hand. Eloise didn't know much, but she thought he would look more relieved yet seemed all the more pained for it.
He rubbed his thumb over the tip and watched her, saying, "I've had my hand this whole time you've been gone. Trust me it is a poor substitute for your company. Tell me you want me."
Eloise pushed another finger inside and sighed. His cock was larger than her fingers and she wondered how it would fill her. She could admit to being curious.
She could admit to more than that in her dreams.
"I've wanted you for a long time. I wanted you then. I want you now. I want you so badly it is haunting me."
Theo moaned and begged her, again and again, to repeat her words. That wasn't difficult. It wasn't hard to say the truth now she could.
"I want you," Eloise said, breathless, "I want you, I want you—"
She finished on her fingers and the last thing she saw before her eyes fluttered closed was him with his head bowed finally finding relief in her words.
When Eloise opened her eyes, she was back on the staircase on very unsteady legs. She clung to the bannister and looked up to see the moonlight had vanished to be replaced by the dawn.
She'd never truly hated sunlight so much before.
Eloise started to seek out the moonlight after that. She stayed up far later than she should with not even an addition of candle light to join her. She sat in the garden, looking up at the twinkling stars, wondering when her dreams would whisk her away again. If she wished hard enough, maybe the moonlight would steal her away for good, and she could free in a world where she was badly wanted.
She had not missed also that often in her dreams she was pursuing something of greater purpose. She and Theo wouldn't be able to afford such a house like that even with her dowry, his income, and money from Anthony—money she believed neither of them would want. But her imagination provided such a rich lifestyle, she had to believe she had made her own way somehow—that the publishing house briefly mentioned in his letters was thriving, or that maybe she had written her own novels…
Take me away again and show me, she thought as she looked up at the night sky. Show me where I am loved.
She didn't dream again when she stayed up until past midnight two weeks in a row.
She didn't dream when she left her curtains open all night. It only made the maid worry and tell her Mama.
Eloise wore the silver ribbon around her wrist and made it catch the light at every opportunity.
But no dreams came.
Eloise gave up hope by the time her family returned to Mayfair. She sat on the swing set and kicked her feet. Benedict was at the cottage with Sophie. Penelope was with Colin. Hyacinth had gone inside to sleep. Meanwhile, the moon looked down at her and mocked her for her longing, as even when someone was next to her on the swing, she wondered what it would be like for him to be there too. There was no end to it.
She closed her eyes with a sigh.
And felt someone gently push her on the swing.
Had Hyacinth come back?
Eloise turned around and saw an older man, with greying hair, in a charming striped blue waistcoat and silver-chained pocket watch. He had a familiar smile and a familiar wedding ring, but his age made him a stranger.
"Theo?" she said.
"Yes, Eloise?"
She looked at her own hand on the swing and saw the marks of age there. Eloise blinked, but it didn't disappear.
"Do you think we're old?" she asked.
"I am only sixty," Theo replied. "We can't possibly be old. I do not feel it. Do you?"
Eloise moved her legs. They did feel a little stiff, though she thought that could have been from sitting too long, and she didn't sense any pain in her back as she had heard was common.
"No, I don't. Not really," she said.
"I'll admit sometimes my knees feel old. And my shoulders too in the morning. But the rest of me is still rather young," Theo told her, pushing her on the swing again. "I think it is your influence."
"What makes you think that?"
"We've had such a fun life. We keep having so much fun together that it's hard to feel old at all. I don't feel old when I'm laughing with you. I could do it forever and a day and never be tired of it. And there's still so much left to do. We still have that signing tomorrow morning. We should probably go to bed soon, you know."
"I suppose so," she said. "The signing… Will it be busy?"
"You said it would be your last novel. I have no doubt every reader in London will be clamouring to shake your hand before the day is out. You're not worried, are you?"
"I am worried but you'll think it's silly."
"I promise I won't," he said, crossing his heart.
"The moonlight makes me think of you and I miss you when I look at it. I think I might be going mad."
He rubbed her shoulders soothingly. "Of course it makes you think of us. It led you back to me. I'm forever grateful for it."
He smiled so sweetly Eloise wanted to feel calm, but her heart thundered, and she slammed her feet down to stop the swing from lifting her back into the air.
"What?" she asked. "It did what?"
"That's what you said," Theo said, kissing her cheek. "I haven't forgotten. It was what you said to me when you saw me again all those years ago. I didn't know what you meant then—do you remember?"
Eloise could only shake her head.
"It doesn't matter. I was only happy you came back," he said with a shrug.
After a moment of quiet, Eloise asked, "Have we been happy?"
"Eloise, there is no greater happiness than being with you." Seeing her face, Theo laughed and kissed her forehead. "The fact I can still make you blush after all these years is the pride of my life."
Eloise kicked her feet and pushed upwards on the swing, floating on air, and let the cool night breeze calm the pink in her cheeks. The swing sent her back down and slowly came to a halt. When she turned around again, Theo wasn't there to push her back up.
But the moon was still in the sky.
Eloise had made many a fair few impulsive decisions in her life. She could say quite happily that sneaking into the servant's quarters to wake John and get him to drive her to Bloomsbury was one of the most impulsive choices of her life—but, if the weeks of moonlight visions had taught her anything it was that the decision, crazy as it seemed, would be the best she would ever make.
"You don't even know where he works know," John said through a yawn.
"I'll find him," she said confidently.
John complained, but he readied the carriage and opened the door for her. It didn't take too long to reach Chancery Lane, though it was more than long enough for her to panic—what should she say when she saw him? What if she really had gone mad?
She had to find him.
He didn't work at Chancery Lane any more.
Stumbling at the first hurdle, Eloise stood outside the printing shop on the cobblestone as it began to rain. The raindrops fell between the cobblestones in clear drops, sparkling like diamonds as the clouds parted across the moon and lit Bloomsbury in a trail of dancing lights. Eloise ran through the puddles, leaving John behind, sending splashes of water up her dress, and followed the jewels of moonlight.
Eloise stopped running the moment she saw him again.
He was there standing in the awning of another printing shop in a warm coat and cap with his hand outstretched to feel the drops of rain onto his palm. After a moment, he turned around and locked the shop door, then took off his cap to tidy his hair. Theo sighed as the light shower increased into a continuous fall. Every shard of reflected silver dropped in front of her eyes, showing the smallest of visions of candlelight, the sound of distant paired laughter, shoes on a dance hall, before cascading into cobblestone puddles. She looked down at her feet and saw reflected a moonlit walk among the gardens of Aubrey Hall with his hand in hers.
When she looked up, Eloise met his wide eyes.
"Miss Bridgerton!" Theo shouted. "Are you well?"
Eloise picked up her skirts and walked through the water, directly towards him. She must have looked a terrible fright—skirt muddied by rain water, her hair dripping wet, the silver ribbon lose in a braid.
She stopped just outside the awning and said, very nervously, "Hello. I don't mean to be a bother—well, it is just that, you see, I've ended up here for many a reason, and it would take some time to explain, but really I found you by moonlight, and I am happy to see you again—that is, well, I hope you are happy to see me again too. If you aren't, of course, I will take my leave—"
Theo offered her his hand. Without question, she took it. She had expected, based on all of her dreams, for him to lift it to his lips and press a kiss into her knuckles or palm.
Instead, Theo gently guided her under the awning. There was only a small space free of the downpour and so, to ensure she remained dry, most of his right shoulder peered out of the awning and was, in a swift second, wet in the rain. He let go of her hand almost immediately, and let it fall to his side where he flexed his hand as though he could still entwine the echo of her fingers in his. Seeing her watching, Theo tucked his hand behind his back and darted his eyes away from hers.
"Miss Bridgerton," he said. "I was not the one who asked you to leave before, though I know I played a fair part in it. I hope… I hope you did not take my words to heart—"
"I did."
"Then I am sorry for hurting you."
Eloise clasped her hands together and looked at the moon now partly hidden behind grey clouds. The raindrops before her eyes offered her no more visions, no more hints, and she was rather at a loss at how to acquire the life that had so enchanted her in dreams.
The only thing she was certain of was this:
"I would like to see you again. Would that… Would that be alright?" Eloise asked.
He looked at her with a familiar, pleading expression that had her face turning pink as she knew now what it meant and what, exactly, he was feeling.
"I would see you everyday if I could," Theo told her.
"Yes. Yes, I know."
"Oh, you know?" he asked.
"I know," Eloise whispered. "Because I feel the same."
He leaned closer, then caught himself and went to pull away, but she placed a hand on his chest and wordlessly stood on the tips of her toes to closer reach his height, and closed her eyes.
Not believing his luck, he asked, "Are you certain?"
"I don't want to fight it any more, Theo. Can't we simply be happy?" she asked.
He wiped the raindrops from her cheeks with shaking thumbs and kissed the corner of her lips. His face was red and though he hadn't been out in the rain he had drops on his cheeks too.
"Then I promise you," Theo said, clasping her hand in his, "You will never know anything but happiness with me."
Eloise didn't see any more moonlight visions from that night onwards. She had already seen enough of the future and, besides, it was always best to have at least some surprises. It was a wonderful life the moonlight had promised her and it did deliver in much more than she had ever dreamed—it was a life where she was ever-loved, ever-busy, and ever so very happy each and every day.