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I have heard whispers of your husband these past few days. Ever since his letter arrived, our Earl has been quite distracted, and the servants, as servants always do, have invented stories grander than any novelist could imagine. One swears His Grace has slain hundreds of men with his own sword. Another insists he feels no fear whatsoever. Cook is convinced he scarcely sleeps, whilst Thomas the footman declared—with absolute certainty—that the Duke is not entirely human but some dreadful creature of the night who survives solely upon blood and intimidation.
Personally, I suspect they have all lost what little sense they possessed.
Still, I hope you are keeping yourself safe, both in body and in heart.
One day I should very much like to meet this Duke of yours and decide for myself whether he deserves you. Duke or no Duke, never allow another soul to rule your mind or your spirit, for those are the very things that have always made you unlike anyone else I have ever known. Promise me that marriage has not stolen your laughter, nor dimmed that wonderfully hopeful heart of yours. If it has, I shall have to come and rescue you myself.
Now I have a confession that will undoubtedly make your cheeks turn pink. Since leaving Windleham, I have experienced certain... pleasures of the flesh.
Do not look so scandalised—I can practically see your expression from here.
When I am afforded rather more privacy than I presently possess, I promise to write everything worth knowing, together with whatever guidance an elder sister ought to provide to a newly married Duchess. Until then, all I shall say is this: you have absolutely nothing to fear.
As for our brothers, I have heard nothing, although I must admit I have not previously been permitted either the time or the means to seek them out. I intend to speak with Lord Danbury at the earliest opportunity and ask whether he might help me discover where James has found himself. Something tells me he may agree, and I cannot explain why, but I suddenly find myself hopeful again.
Please write soon.
Tell me everything.
Leave nothing out, no matter how ordinary you believe it to be, because there is no ordinary life when it belongs to someone you love.
With all the love in my heart,
-C
Her husband would never realise it, but somewhere between writing to the Earl and insisting her letters be answered, he had lifted a weight from Cecily's shoulders without ever knowing it existed.
Vinnie knocked softly before letting herself inside and immediately set about preparing the chamber for the evening. She drew the heavy curtains closed, folded away Eliza's dinner gown with practised hands, and helped her slip into her nightdress, fastening the tiny pearl buttons that ran neatly down her back.
"Is all well, Eliza?"
"All is more than well..." Eliza sighed wistfully, watching herself in the dressing table mirror as Vinnie carefully removed the pins from her hair one by one. With each pin, another wave of dark curls tumbled over her shoulders until they fell almost to her waist. "Everything is more than well, it's simply superb."
Vinnie smiled to herself, saying nothing as she lifted the brush and slowly worked it through the thick curls.
"Well, I am very glad to hear it. Do you need anything else before you retire for the evening?"
"That will be everything. Thank you, Vinnie."
With Vinnie dismissed, Eliza climbed into bed, burying herself beneath the mountain of quilts and drawing them up beneath her chin. For the first time in what felt like an age, sleep came easily.
Chapter 19
The next morning, Arthur occupied his customary place at the table, the morning paper unfolded neatly before him.
Everything was almost as it had always been. Silver gleamed, porcelain clinked softly against polished wood, and servants moved with practised efficiency, laying warm dishes upon the table before retreating silently to the walls.
Almost.
Sunlight poured unabashedly through the tall sash windows, illuminating every corner of the breakfast room. It stretched across the polished floor before settling squarely upon Arthur's shoulders.
He resisted the urge to move.
For years, Winworth House had remained comfortably dim by his own design. Yet the Duchess of Buckingham had declared, with complete sincerity, that any house fortunate enough to possess such magnificent windows ought not spend its days pretending the sun did not exist.
Since then, she had quietly begun opening the curtains throughout Winworth, never attempting to conquer the whole estate at once, but advancing room by room with patient determination.
The servants, wisely declining to involve themselves in what had become a silent battle of wills between the Duke and Duchess, had adopted the habit of informing Arthur in advance.
