“Aunt Eliza!” they shouted in unison, abandoning all pretense of good behavior to race across the room.
“Boys!” Miss Winslow called after them, but she was laughing. “At least let Her Grace sit down first! Good heavens, boys!”
Eliza knelt just in time to catch both boys as they threw themselves at her. “Hello, my darlings! I’ve missed you so much!”
“We missed you too!” Philip declared. “Uncle Ambrose said we had to wait a whole month before we could visit because you and Uncle Morgan were on your honeymoon.”
“And Miss Winslow told us ALL about honeymoons,” Arthur added importantly. “They’re for married people to spend time together without interruptions.”
“That’s exactly right,” Morgan said, entering the room with Ambrose and Imogen. “Though I’d argue that visits from one’s favorite nephews hardly count as interruptions.”
The boys beamed at him.
Imogen moved to embrace Eliza warmly. “You look radiant. Marriage clearly agrees with you.”
“It does,” Eliza said, and meant it. “More than I ever expected.”
“I’m glad.” Imogen’s eyes held knowing warmth. “I told you Morgan would surprise you.”
Ambrose shook Morgan’s hand, then turned to Eliza with a bow. “Your Grace. Congratulations again. Though I have to say, I’m relieved. Imogen was about ready to stage an intervention if Morgan didn’t stop moping about you.”
“I was not moping,” Morgan protested. “You always exaggerate.”
“You absolutely were moping about like a sad bear,” Ambrose countered. “It was pathetic, really.”
“I’m standing right here.”
“Yes, and we’re all very happy you finally did something about your feelings instead of brooding dramatically in corners.”
Eliza bit back a laugh. The easy friendship between the two men was obvious, and it warmed her heart to see Morgan so relaxed, so himself.
“Miss Winslow,” Eliza said, turning to the governess who stood slightly apart from the group. “It’s so very good to see you.”
Helen Winslow’s smile was genuine. “And you, Your Grace. Though I confess, I’m still adjusting to calling you that instead of Miss Graham.”
“Please, when we’re alone like this, call me Eliza. I’d like us to be friends, if you’re amenable.”
Helen’s expression softened. “Most amendable, Eliza. I’d like that very much.”
Tea was served, and for the first time since returning to London, Eliza felt herself truly relax. The boys chattered excitedly about their latest adventures, Ambrose and Morgan discussed Parliamentary business, and Imogen regaled them with a story about a disastrous dinner party they’d attended in their absence.
“And then,” Imogen said, barely containing her laughter, “Lady Johnson’s cat jumped onto the table and knocked the entire roast into Lord Clayton’s lap.”
“No!” Eliza gasped.
“Yes! The shrieking alone was worth the price of admission.”
As the laughter subsided, Arthur tugged on Eliza’s sleeve. “Aunt Eliza, can we come visit you at the country house again? We liked the beach. Warmer weather is on the horizon!”
“Of course you can,” Eliza said, ruffling his hair. “Anytime you like.”
“What about next month?” Philip suggested hopefully.
“Boys,” Helen interjected gently. “We mustn’t impose. I’m sure their graces have many obligations and have just returned to London!”
“They’re never an imposition,” Morgan said firmly. “In fact, I insist. Next month. We’ll make a proper holiday of it.”
The boys cheered, and Eliza caught Morgan’s eye across the room. He smiled at her, that private, knowing smile that was just for her, and she felt her heart swell.
