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"Do not even think about it", grunted Arthur.

His voice emerged from the darkness, low and rough, carrying the unmistakable edge of a man who had been awake considerably longer than she had thought.

Eliza gasped.

"You are awake?"

"I have been," he replied evenly.

"...For how long?" she asked.

"For long enough."

Very slowly, he released her wrist. She snatched her hand back beneath the blankets, suddenly discovering the quilt to be the most fascinating object she had ever encountered.

"I..." No sentence presented itself. What would she say? She felt an unwilling pull towards his body, and voices dared her to explore every inch of him.

Arthur exhaled slowly. Neither of them moved. The darkness, which only moments before had felt comforting, now seemed far too small to contain them both.

Though she could not yet see his face, she was certain she knew the expression he wore. She had seen it enough times now to recognise it even in the dark.

The careful one. The composed one. The Duke. She was not ready to be shut out. Carefully, she leaned across him, one hand bracing herself against the mattress as she reached towards the bedside table. Her hair tumbled over one shoulder, the peaks of her chest grazing his as her fingers searched for the lamp.

She heard Arthur draw a slow, measured breath beneath her at the contact.

"Sorry," she whispered.

At last her fingers found the tinder. A moment later, the flame caught, throwing a warm amber glow across the room.

"That's better."

She settled back against her pillow and looked at him properly. Sleep had stolen the severity from his face. Without the weight of duty resting upon his shoulders, he looked younger somehow. Softer.

It struck her how rarely she had truly seen Arthur.

"I'm sorry for falling asleep," Eliza said.

"You appear to have discovered the solution to your insomnia." His voice was perfectly even.

Matter-of-fact. Almost as though the previous evening had been nothing more than another conversation.

She smiled.

"I believe I have." For a few moments neither of them spoke.

As the silence lengthened, she watched it happen. The familiar tightening of his jaw. The careful straightening of his shoulders. The quiet distance returning to his eyes. It was almost fascinating. As though, with every passing heartbeat, he was fashioning another piece of armour back into place.

"Arthur?" she whispered.

His gaze lifted to hers.

"Have I done something wrong?"

His answer came immediately.

"No."

"Then..." She hesitated, searching for words that would not push him back behind those invisible walls.