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"But will he survive..." Laurence grinned and theatrically winked.

"...his wedding night?" Radnor finished his fellow buffoon's sentence with a chuckle.

"Buck, I confess I thought you would turn around and march straight back out of the chapel before vows were exchanged," Laurence shared.

Radnor nodded solemnly before adding, "I assumed the Duchess would bolt the moment she saw your face."

Arthur rubbed two fingers against his temple. How either of them had reached adulthood remained a mystery. He had known Laurence since they were boys at Eton, and he had dragged Radnor from beneath a dying horse in Spain at the age of 20 before charging back into battle. Ever since, the pair had lingered in his life like persistent gnats.

He permitted them to visit Winworth twice each year. Maximum. Today's headache reminded him why such a rule was installed in the first place.

It was already June, and he had thought he was doing rather well having escaped their company thus far.

"Are you two quite finished?" Arthur asked.

Laurence puffed thoughtfully on his cigar.

"I could continue all night,” said Laurence.

A pause.

"The ladies assure me I often do."

Radnor groaned at Laurence while Arthur contemplated homicide.

"But I'll show restraint." Laurence gestured around the room.

"Your sanctuary has been invaded. Your mother has filled the house with guests. You've acquired a wife. If there was ever a day not to poke the proverbial bear..." Laurence trailed off.

"...it would be today." Colonel Radnor finished Laurence’s sentence for him

Silence settled, and the three men listened to the crackling of a fire, all in deep reflection. Then Radnor spoke once more.

"The Duchess..."

Arthur looked up.

"What of her?" he asked.

"She has the most extraordinary eyes," Radnor shared.

Laurence nodded and leaned forwards.

"Try not to send her running for the hills before I return to London, would you? I would like to be the one spreading the gossip in the ton, and that only works if there is actual gossip to share,” said Laurence.

"There is something about her..." Radnor said, ignoring Laurence's jest.

Arthur's expression remained neutral.

Only his eyes sharpened.

"What was the Duchess's maiden name?" Radnor asked.

"Harper” Laurence replied before Arthur could.

Radnor repeated it quietly. "Harper..." He withdrew a small notebook from inside his military coat, wrote the name carefully upon the page, and returned it to his pocket.

Arthur noticed, and he intended to ask why, but the imbecile before him had other ideas.