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The realisation struck with such force that Eliza very nearly recoiled.

He had known. Before tonight. Perhaps—

No.

Her mind stopped there, recoiling from the thought. There were only so many reasons a man might look upon news of another woman’s unborn child not with surprise, but anger.

And she could not bear to consider which of them belonged to her husband.

As though sensing her gaze, Arthur looked towards her. Their eyes met. His widened by the smallest fraction. It was not guilt she saw. Nor relief.

It was something infinitely worse. Alarm. Her heart gave one painful, uneven beat.

Eliza tore her gaze away before whatever remained of her composure deserted her completely.

Everything around her became painfully vivid, and the scent of roasted meat suddenly turned her stomach. She could not keep the Colonel’s promise for much longer. Not here. Not now.

"My dearest Laurence..." The words escaped her lips as little more than a whisper. Had she spoken any louder, her voice would surely have broken, exposing the fragile thread by which her composure still hung.

"I truly want to wish you a safe journey." Eliza swallowed carefully, forcing the next words past the tightness in her throat.

"I had not realised quite how late it had become. I believe... I believe I ought to retire,” she stuttered.

She slipped a trembling hand beneath the folds of her skirts, withdrawing the neatly folded piece of parchment she had tucked there before dinner.

"There is one favour I wished to ask of you whilst you are in London."

Holding it out across the table, she managed what she hoped resembled a smile.

"I wrote to my brother, James, some months ago and have not heard from him in over a year. This was the last address I had for him. If it is not too much trouble, would you mind paying him a visit?"

Laurence accepted the letter without taking his eyes from her face. As soon as it had passed between them, she rose, smoothing the skirts of her gown with unsteady hands.

"Allow me to escort you—" Laurence began, but he had hardly reached his feet before she had gathered her skirts and crossed the room with measured steps that grew steadily quicker the closer she came to the door.

Only once it closed quietly behind her did Eliza allow herself to breathe.

Chapter 40

He was unwell.

It was the only explanation for the persistent knot that had settled somewhere between his ribs and refused to loosen these past few weeks. He was exhausted, though sleep had become an elusive luxury since his own foolishness had condemned him to an empty bed. His chambers were no longer occupied by a small, green-eyed woman with untameable dark curls and comforting warmth. The quiet rhythm of her breathing, that sound which had, without his ever noticing, become the only thing capable of lulling him into genuine rest, was gone with her.

In its place was only silence.

The last two weeks had been amongst the longest of his life.

Ordinarily, work would provide more than enough distraction to occupy even the busiest of minds. Estate accounts demanded attention, tenant disputes required judgement, correspondence arrived in relentless piles upon his desk from dawn until dusk, and for perhaps the first time in years he had dealt with every matter placed before him with ruthless efficiency. Landowner grievances had been resolved, leases reviewed, investments approved, and no fewer than four longstanding disagreements settled before each luncheon.

Anyone observing him would have called it one of his most productive periods.

Arthur knew better.

Work had merely become somewhere to hide.

The afternoon reports on Eliza’s activities arrived punctually each day, and he unfolded each one with hands that had grown increasingly reluctant.

12:00 — Her Grace has not left her chamber.