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She shook her head.
"I thought the children might like them." She turned one of the little boxes over once more, admiring the tiny brass clasp. "They could keep all their treasures inside. Pebbles, feathers, pressed flowers... all the important things children seem determined to collect." She laughed softly. "Or perhaps I shall simply fill them with sweets."
Before she had even remembered to ask the price, the elderly stallholder was already wrapping four of the little boxes in tissue before placing them carefully into a velvet bag.
"Oh..." She looked from the parcels to Arthur.
"I never even asked what they cost."
"I am aware." His expression remained perfectly composed.
She opened her mouth to protest, only for him to raise one eyebrow in quiet warning. Very sensibly, she closed it again.
Instead, he rested a light hand against the small of her back, guiding her gently onwards before she could attempt to return the boxes he had now purchased.
The next stall displayed journals, sketchbooks and finely bound pocket diaries, their leather covers arranged neatly in rows of deep green, burgundy and navy. Eliza stopped almost immediately. Her fingers settled upon a handsome green leather journal.
"This one."
Arthur glanced towards her.
"For yourself?"
She shook her head.
"For the Colonel. When he wakes." She traced her thumb lightly across the embossed cover.
"I thought perhaps... if he has delays with walking, he might like somewhere to write."
She looked towards the stallholder.
"Excuse me, sir, how much would—"
"We shall take it." Arthur's interruption was polite, but decisive.
The stallholder nodded with evident enthusiasm, hardly able to believe his good fortune. Moments later the journal had disappeared into neat brown paper, coins had exchanged hands, and the parcel had quietly passed into the care of the footman following several paces behind.
Eliza sighed.
"You are making it extraordinarily difficult for me to purchase anything myself."
"I rather believe," Arthur replied evenly, "that was the intention."
They continued strolling through the market together, Arthur matching his stride to hers with surprising ease as she paused every few yards to admire ribbons, books, china or flowers before invariably deciding someone else would appreciate them more than she ever could.
After several minutes, Arthur broke the silence.
"I do hope, Duchess, that amongst all these stalls you shall eventually discover something you might actually wish to receive yourself."
She looked up at him. He sounded almost concerned.
"I believe," she said after a thoughtful pause, "I already have."
“You have?” His brow lifted in question.
She nodded.
"For my birthday gift..."
