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Mr Ellis was already directing footmen towards the entrance. Maids hurried from adjoining corridors, only to be swiftly ushered back out of the way, whilst Dr Abraham appeared from the guest wing with remarkable speed, his black leather case swinging heavily at his side in anticipation. Stable boys rushed across the courtyard, and somewhere outside a horse let out a tired, impatient snort.

The great entrance doors were thrown open, and Eliza's eyes searched desperately beyond the threshold until, at last, the carriage, which had first appeared as little more than a dark silhouette against the fading evening light, rolled beneath the portico. The embossed Buckingham crest upon the carriage door flashed briefly before disappearing once more into the deepening dusk.

The carriage had barely come to a halt before Laurence was opening its door, even before the footman had the chance.

She remained frozen in the foyer.

"Carefully," she heard a familiar voice say. "Mind his leg."

Attendants hurried forward. Mr Ellis reached the carriage a moment after Laurence, and he stood at the adjacent door as soon as they stopped turning.

Then the Duke stepped down from the carriage. His hair was untidy, far longer than when he had left, and flattened in places from days spent beneath a travelling hat.

He emerged slowly from the carriage, no longer dressed in the immaculate coat of a Duke but stripped back to a white shirt, black waistcoat and breeches, all bearing the unmistakable marks of hard travel. Dust clung stubbornly to the fabric, dried mud darkened the knees of his breeches, and the sleeves, once neatly rolled, were creased and stained from days spent tending to another rather than himself.

He looked utterly spent. Yet he carried Radnor as though it took no energy at all.

The Colonel lay motionless in Arthur's arms, his head resting heavily against Arthur's shoulder, his face depleted of almost all colour. His eyes remained closed, whether asleep or unconscious she could not tell, whilst his right leg disappeared beneath layer upon layer of tightly wound bandages, splinted so heavily it scarcely looked human anymore.

Arthur's jaw was set with fierce concentration, every ounce of his attention fixed upon ensuring his friend did not suffer another unnecessary jolt.

Laurence stepped forward without a word, carefully taking Colonel Radnor from Arthur's arms whilst the physician moved alongside them, already issuing quiet instructions to the footmen; names of salves and herbs she had never heard of rattled off his tongue. Together they disappeared towards the bedchamber that had stood waiting these past eleven days, Laurence bearing as much of Radnor's weight as he could whilst Dr Abraham kept one anxious eye fixed upon the Colonel's heavily bandaged leg.

Only when Radnor had been lifted from Arthur’s embrace did her husband finally take in his surroundings.

His eyes found hers immediately, and for one suspended moment the bustle of the household seemed to dissolve around them.

She wanted nothing more than to cross the hall, to throw her arms around him and hold him close. She wanted to smooth the dust from his face, to tell him how relieved she was that he had returned, to assure herself that he was truly standing before her and not another hopeful dream conjured in the middle of the night.

But she saw it. The look in his eyes told her enough. His body had returned to Winworth. The rest of him had not yet reached its borders.

Arthur’s thoughts remained fixed upon the man being carried down the corridor, every instinct urging him to see the journey through to its very end before allowing himself even a moment's rest.

She understood.

The Duke of Buckingham was not a man who would abandon a duty unfinished simply because he had reached his own front door. So instead of running to him, she smiled. It was a small smile, though one filled with every ounce of relief she possessed.

One corner of his mouth threatened the faintest movement before he lifted a single finger between them, the smallest of gestures.

His eyes said the rest. Soon.

Then he left once more, following Laurence and Dr Abraham without sparing another glance, his heavy strides carrying him swiftly down the corridor until he disappeared.

Only when he was satisfied that Radnor was safe and receiving every possible attention would Arthur permit himself to think of anything else. So she quietly made her own way back towards the drawing room, stopping briefly to find her lady's maid.

"Would you ask Mr Ellis to arrange a bath for His Grace?" she said softly. "And... if Cook would be so kind as to prepare his favourites, I imagine he has eaten very little these past days. Could they be sent to his chambers?"

Vinnie nodded gently.

"Of course, Your Grace."

Only once she knew everything had been arranged did Eliza continue her journey.

The drawing room was empty, leaving only the lingering warmth of the day and the quiet stillness of imminent sunset. She closed her eyes and began to hum softly beneath her breath, allowing the familiar melody to settle the anxious beating of her heart.

Almost without thinking, her feet began to move. A slow sway. A gentle pivot. One step. Then another.

The final remnants of golden sunlight faded through the tall windows, stretching across the polished floor before gradually surrendering to the violet hues of dusk. She barely noticed the room growing darker around her, lost instead within the gentle melody that she had carried with her since childhood.