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Ellie was salivating from the smells of cooking dinner wafting down the corridor when she looked up to see Henry come through the door in the small parlour before the entrance to the formal dining area.  He looked like a freshly shot GQ model who had walked off a casual wear shoot. He hand changed into a crisp polo shirt that clung to his biceps. It made Ellie's eyes be drawn to his upper musculature and be warn in places where she had not felt since this afternoon. It revealed his deep colarbones and made Ellie want to trace his skin. It was apparent from the way that he gave her an easy smile that Henry had put the press attack to bed. Ellie was glad as he had seemed distant in the taxi to Stanford Hall. She did not like to see him looking so lost.