Morgan and the duchess stood together, watching as Lizzie walked away down the hall without anything more than an acknowledging nod in their direction. The duchess let out a tiny, almost imperceptible sigh of worry and then gave him a strained smile.
“Good morning, Mr. Banfield. I assume my husband is working away in his study?”
“Good morning, Your Grace,” he returned as he opened the door and motioned her to enter first. “Please join us. I know he will enjoy the interruption if it is you who creates it.”
“Banfield, did you find that ledger?” Brighthollow said without looking up from his desk.
“I did, Your Grace. And I found something else I thought you might wish to see,” Morgan said, and the duchess laughed.
That brought Brighthollow’s head up from his work, and his expression softened with pure pleasure as his gaze fell on his wife. “I will take this interruption every day,” he said, pushing to his feet and motioning Morgan to the desk.
Morgan stepped away to take the seat that Brighthollow had abandoned and dipped his gaze into the ledger to give the pair a moment of privacy.
“You do not know what a light you bring into this room,” Brighthollow said as he kissed his wife’s hand and drew her a little closer. “That gown is beautiful. I always convince myself you cannot be so beautiful, that I must have conjured you as a dream, but then you come into the room and prove me very happily wrong.”
The duchess rested a hand on his chest with a smile. “You are a charmer today. How goes the work?”
Brighthollow sent a quick glance back at Morgan. “Very well. It seems I drag ledgers all over this house, so Mr. Banfield is being so kind as to retrieve them for a long-needed review.”
“It is no trouble,” Morgan said, keeping his gaze in the books. “I believe we have them all here now.”
“And what about you?” Brighthollow asked, his attention returning, always and forever, to his wife. “Did you talk to Lizzie?”
Morgan froze, quill balanced above the ledger, at the mention of Elizabeth. He glanced up briefly and saw the duchess’s concern plain across her pretty face.
“I…did. She cried off the assembly ball tonight, just as I feared she would.” The duchess let out a shuddering sigh.
Brighthollow’s shoulders rolled forward. “I see. I had hoped you could convince her.”
“I tried,” Her Grace said, and there was a hint of tears thickening her voice. “Oh, Hugh, she still blames herself for—”
Morgan tensed and lifted his gaze again, but she cut herself off before she could reveal anything of value to him. But now he had a hint of something he hadn’t known before. Elizabeth blamed herself for something. What, he couldn’t imagine. What could a gentle and genteel lady such as she have done that required self-blame?
He couldn’t imagine she’d ever had a wild streak or done anyone harm. It wasn’t in her nature. He knew that after spending five minutes in her company.
Brighthollow cupped his wife’s cheek, and Morgan realized he was wiping a tear from her skin. Then he sighed. “I’ll talk to her about it.”
“I don’t know,” Her Grace said. “We’ve talked it to death, haven’t we? I see her panic every time the subject is broached. We need to reevaluate our plan, I think. Perhaps just leave her be for a while.”
“Wait too long and her moment might pass,” Brighthollow mused.
“Push too hard and she’ll shut us out forever,” his wife whispered. “Things are going to change soon, Hugh. For all of us.”
Brighthollow seemed to consider that a moment. He cast a quick glance at Morgan, who continued working away as if he hadn’t heard a bit of this conversation. That was what servants did, wasn’t it? They faded into the woodwork, pretended not to see or hear or imagine.
That was his place now. Even if it wasn’t his nature.
“You’re right,” Brighthollow said, and leaned in to gently kiss his wife. “We’ll discuss it later. Perhaps tonight with Charlotte and Ewan. They might have advice.”
The duchess squeezed his hand. “Perhaps. I’ll see you later. Good afternoon, Mr. Banfield.”
She slipped away, and Brighthollow came to the opposite side of the desk and sank into a chair. For a moment, he stared straight ahead, his gaze blank as if he were in some faraway place. Thinking of Elizabeth, it seemed. Worrying over her, for that was clear as anything.
Morgan couldn’t help but think of his own brother. Robert was making attempts to connect recently. This assistance in obtaining the position here was one example. But he couldn’t imagine Roseford crashing himself on the rocks with such power as Brighthollow did for Elizabeth.
He found himself a little jealous of their powerful bond.
“Is there anything I can do?” Morgan said, not looking at Brighthollow but keeping his focus on the line of numbers before him.
