Page 69

Their eyes remained fixed upon one another across the great entrance hall. Then she became aware of the world returning around them. Outside, the hurried shouting had begun to quieten. The frantic movement in the courtyard was giving way to swift efficiency as the final straps were secured, trunks loaded and horses settled beneath the traces.

The carriage was ready. In another moment, he would be gone.

Before she had properly considered the decision, Eliza gathered her skirts and hurried down the sweeping staircase, one hand gliding along the bannister as her bare feet carried her faster than any Duchess ought to run. By the time she reached the foot of the stairs, Arthur was already waiting below.

He had met her halfway. She stopped only inches from him, her breathing uneven from the hurried descent, the letter trembling ever so slightly in her grasp. For a moment she could do nothing but look at him.

He stood before her with remarkable composure, issuing orders, preparing for a journey of hundreds of miles, all because somewhere across the Channel, a friend had fallen and needed him.

There had been no hesitation. No weighing of consequences. No thought for inconvenience.

Only loyalty.

The realisation settled somewhere deep within her chest until it almost hurt to breathe. What an extraordinary man he was. And though he had shared not long ago that he did not frighten easily, his eyes now begged to differ.

Almost without thinking, her free hand found his forearm, fingers curling gently around the coarse black wool of his travelling coat as though reassuring herself he was still there.

"Arthur..."

It was all she could manage.

He looked down at the letter still clasped against her chest before lifting his gaze to meet hers.

"Duchess..." His voice remained calm, steady despite the urgency surrounding them.

"I must leave with haste," he said.

She nodded before he had even finished speaking.

"I know," she admitted, the words weighing heavily between them.

His eyes searched hers for the briefest moment.

"I must bring Radnor home."

"Oh..." she whispered, the words catching painfully in her throat. "I know."

She did. She understood that he would never have forgiven himself if another man made that journey in his place.

"I do not suppose..." she began quietly, swallowing against the tightness in her chest, "...that you would permit me to travel with you?"

For the first time since she had reached him, the severity of his expression softened. He slowly shook his head.

"It will be a long journey," he said gently. "And a hard one. I intend to travel as quickly as the horses can manage. There will be little sleep, poor roads, and I shall push Fido harder than I have in years."

His hand came to rest over hers where it still lay on his arm.

"It is no place for a lady."

Eliza closed her eyes for a single heartbeat. She had known what his answer would be before she asked. She had never truly expected permission. She simply could not bear the thought of him facing whatever awaited him alone.

Drawing one slow breath, she opened her eyes again and lifted her chin, summoning every lesson in composure the Dowager had patiently attempted to teach her. If Arthur could carry such impossible burdens with quiet dignity, then surely she could bear a few days of worry without becoming another burden for him to carry.

"Very well then," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "Promise me something."

Arthur waited.

"You will be careful..."