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Arthur cleared his throat, making a token effort to regain his composure.

Laurence regarded him for a long moment before muttering. "I preferred you when you were miserable."

Arthur turned from the window and straightened his waistcoat, finally giving Laurence his full attention.

"The tale of the wife versus the mother-in-law is as old as time itself. Surely you remember the difficulties Eleanor had." Laurence shared.

They both shuddered. Laurence's elder sister had married a Viscount whose mother proved so relentlessly overbearing that Eleanor had threatened to leave her husband altogether unless he removed them to his country estate. The affair had been spectacularly public, filling the society papers for weeks and giving their father, the Home Secretary, a headache of national proportions.

"What I'm saying," Laurence continued, "is that the choice you make now will set the tone for the rest of your marriage."

"There is no choice to make." Arthur frowned.

"No?" Laurence questioned.

"I neither require my mother's permission nor fear her displeasure," Arthur answered without hesitation.

"So what is the problem?" Laurence asked.

Arthur exhaled slowly, returned to his desk, and rested a hand upon the back of his chair.

"She is so excited for her first London ball. The last thing I want is for that excitement to be overshadowed by whispers about her family. I can silence every man in the room with little more than a glance."

"But not the women?" A faint smile tugged at Laurence's mouth.

Arthur gave a humourless huff.

"Are you certain the sister's attendance would cause such a stir?" asked Laurence.

Arthur inclined his head.

“I have learned that Miss Cecily is employed as a maid in the Earl of Danbury’s household, though I suspect her domestic talents were not the only qualifications he considered.”

"Ah," Laurence uttered as amusement faded from his expression and a silence lingered.

"I informed Radnor that I shall be departing in four days and that you will be taking over my duties."

"And what did our dear prickly friend have to say about that?" Arthur said.

"Nothing." Laurence sighed, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Honestly, Buck, the man is the most stubborn old bastard I have ever met. If he were remotely transportable, I would take him back to London with me, drown him in whisky to soften his disposition, and introduce him to a few agreeable young ladies."

"I'm sure Dr Abraham would wholeheartedly endorse that treatment." Arthur's mouth twitched.

Neither man spoke of what awaited Laurence in London.

Arthur knew his friend well enough to recognise the question that lingered unspoken between them. Lady Radnor’s petition for divorce. Laurence had not yet answered it himself.

Before Laurence could begin outlining the remaining matters concerning Radnor's estate, a knock sounded at the office door. Arthur's head lifted.

That was not the knock he had become accustomed to expecting. It was deliberate, professional.

"Enter," said Arthur.

"Your Grace. My Lord." Mr Ellis stepped inside and bowed his head.

Arthur returned the greeting with a nod.