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"I am afraid I shall have to shorten my stay. The ton is quite abuzz with news of the Duke of Buckingham's wedding, and I have received rather more invitations than I can politely refuse. I leave for London tomorrow," his mother shared from the opposite end of the table.

"So soon?" The disappointment in Eliza's voice was impossible to miss.

"I shall return after a short while, my dear," the Dowager reassured her.

"From everything I have seen, I trust you have the spirit to learn remarkably quickly."

"And fear not," Laurence added with a grin. "I am not departing just yet. Though I am quite certain the ladies of the ton shall find their days unbearably dull in my absence, Buck and I have papers to write, and I still haven't annoyed him nearly enough for my liking."

Arthur set his paper down, replaced it with a teacup, and looked over the rim at Laurence.

"I wasn't aware there was an objective measure for 'enough'," he said, breaking his silence.

"There isn't, that’s the beauty of it." Laurence grinned victoriously.

Mr Ellis entered carrying a polished silver tray upon which rested three sealed letters.

"Missives, Your Grace."

He bowed first to Eliza, presenting her with two envelopes, before crossing to Arthur and offering him the third.

Arthur recognised the handwriting on the envelope immediately. He placed it beside his newspaper, intending to read it later in the privacy of his study.

His attention drifted back to Eliza.

She traced a fingertip over the large red wax seal on the first envelope before setting it aside; for the first time since they had met, her lips curved, not into a smile, but into the faintest frown.

The second letter, she opened carefully with her butter knife, and four folded sheets slipped into her hands. As she unfolded them, her entire face transformed, and the sad shadow that had threatened to creep across it mere seconds ago was gone.

Laurence noticed it too.

"Well?" he asked. "Is it good news? Shall we celebrate?" His friend seemed entirely too comfortable quizzing his wife over correspondence at the dining table, but Arthur could not fault him, for he was equally curious.

"I wouldn't call it news exactly..."

She turned the top page around for them all to see.

Arthur frowned in confusion. It appeared to be a child's drawing. Bold blue lines formed what he presumed was a house. There was something that might have been a tree, perhaps a flower, and several tiny stick figures standing proudly in front of it.

"We can celebrate my little Alice discovering colour," Eliza said, laughing softly.

"Though perhaps we should postpone the festivities until she learns that colours are meant to stay inside the lines."

She smiled down at the drawing with such unguarded affection that Arthur found himself looking at her rather than the paper.

"How delightful," his mother said. "Forgive me, Your Grace... Alice is...?"

"Oh, it is I who should ask forgiveness." Eliza looked up, almost embarrassed by her own excitement.

"Alice is one of the children from the orphanage, and since I was the oldest and longest resident... I suppose I rather appointed myself governess to its four most recent residents before my arrival here."

She looked back at the drawing, but Arthur felt Laurence’s eyes on him. Neither of them spoke. They did not need to. Arthur knew his wife's admission lent credence to Colonel Radnor's suspicion.

"Alice is the youngest, and they promised they would write."

For a moment, no one spoke. Arthur looked to his wife, but she had already returned her attention to the childish drawing, smiling to herself as though nothing else in the room existed. He had never seen anyone look so delighted by something of so little value.

The pendulum clock in the entryway began to chime. Eliza started, her eyes widening.