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He smiled sadly.

"But I have spoken with our Lord, and I trust he will guard your heart."

He looked at her for a long moment.

"You are no longer the little girl who came to us with pockets full of wildflowers and dreams far bigger than herself."

His smile softened.

"You are a woman now."

"And soon a Duchess," he finished.

Eliza slipped her arm through his.

Then, almost without thinking, she rested her head gently against his shoulder.

It was the closest either of them had ever come to embracing.

Mr Didley said nothing.

Neither did she.

They walked together towards the waiting carriage.

The gentleman placed his hat back on his head, closed the carriage door behind them, and with a sharp crack of the reins, the horses stepped forward.

The carriage lurched forwards.

Eliza did not look back.

For the second time in her life, Eliza was carried away from a place she called home.

Chapter 4

Arthur stood before the modest stone altar, his body angled ever so slightly to the right, ensuring the left side of his face remained hidden from the congregation.

Old habit.

The scar fixed across his brow had ceased to trouble him years ago. Other people's reactions had not.

His expression remained fixed in its customary scowl as he waited beside the only two men whose company he willingly endured.

Lieutenant Colonel Giles Radnor stood to his right, broad-shouldered in the scarlet uniform of his regiment, every brass button polished to perfection. To Arthur's left waited Lord Benedict Laurence, immaculate in a navy morning coat, his easy smile already hinting that he intended to enjoy the morning far more than the groom himself.

"You could at least attempt to smile, Buck,” Laurence chimed.

Arthur's scowl deepened.

There was nothing worth smiling about. He had asked for a small ceremony, quiet, contained, and arranged by Mr Ellis. Small enough to avoid becoming the subject of society gossip for months on end, yet public enough that the news would spread that the Duke of Buckingham had taken a bride. The rest, society would assume for itself, and an heir would soon follow.

It had been a perfectly sensible plan.

Unfortunately, someone had seen fit to inform his mother that he intended to marry.

The Dowager Duchess had descended upon Winworth from London with the force of a military campaign, and within three weeks his quiet wedding had become something altogether less recognisable.

"I shall smile," Arthur muttered. "When Winworth is no longer infested with people and the hands of that dreaded organist are pinned to the centre of my drawing room table."