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Liz shook her head. ‘He isn’t in the habit of explaining himself. He just says that he will tell you when you may return.’

‘And my children?’

‘All well.’

Georgiana nodded. ‘Do you think they will remember me?’

‘Of course they will.’ Liz was confident that the eldest two, Little Gee and Haryo, would remember their mother, but little Hart? She wasn’t so sure. Baby William, Marquess of Hartington, known as Hart, was a curious child. Horribly spoiled by all the women in his life, as one might expect of the heir to the duchy, ignored by his father, and temperamental to a fault even at the tender age of three.

‘We should push on soon and join your sister.’

‘Where is Bess now?’ Liz could hear the bitterness in Georgiana’s voice.

‘She had no option but to leave, darling, and we managed admirably. I think she headed to Naples after her husband returned to England.’

Georgiana looked up at that. ‘Naples?’

Liz reached out and took Georgiana’s hand. It was ice cold. ‘We should get out of France too, love. It isn’t safe here. The revolutionaries are growing almost by the day. They are… they are talking about executing the King. I don’t think it is safe for us to stay here too long.’

Georgiana looked shocked. ‘Truly? Would they do that? Poor Louis. What of his Marie Antoinette?’

Liz hesitated. ‘Marie Antoinette too.’

Georgiana put a hand to her mouth and shook her head. ‘God, what kind of world are we living in where people murder their king and queen?’

Liz squeezed her hands as Georgiana went back to staring out of the window and worrying at her lip. It was so horribly unlike her. The bright, vivacious, intelligent woman that Liz adored had retreated, leaving this poor creature in its place. It was breaking Liz’s heart, and for Georgiana’s husband to say she couldn’t now return home to her children was the very edge of enough.

The letter he sent was short and said that Liz could return when she liked, he cared not what she chose to do. However, his wife should remain where she was until she had his permission to return. The response worried Liz enormously. He cared not. Did this mean he was tiring of her? That he truly didn’t care if she came back? She felt cold at the thought. Her life with William, the duke, and Georgiana was unusual, and courted a good deal of speculation and comment, but it was a good one. She and her children were safe, but her life could only continue as long as the duke desired her. Being away, being out of sight and mind, was dangerous.

She sank to her knees before Georgiana and lay her head on her lap. She waited, and eventually, Georgiana ran her fingers through Liz’s hair and petted her softly. Liz closed her eyes in relief. At least she still had Georgiana’s love. All she needed to do now was deliver her safely home, smooth over the bumps in the otherwise happy road of their lives that her pregnancy had created, and get all three of them back to being content.

She raised her head and took Georgiana’s hands in hers and kissed them.

Georgiana’s head tilted to one side. ‘What do you think she’s doing now? Do you think the wet nurse is feeding her properly?’

Liz closed her eyes momentarily, then, with a soft, sad smile, she nodded.

Naples

Liz loved Italy almost as much as she loved France. The colourful flamboyance, the drama, and the scandals in Italy were so much more intense than in England. Even Georgiana couldn’t help but be drawn in by the excitement. As the weeks and months passed, piece by piece, Georgiana came back to her. Liz watched her fondly, seated comfortably in the drawing room. Her figure was returning rapidly, her milk dispensed with, and that meant all the agonising, small reminders of the baby she had given up were less sharp.

She turned her head in Liz’s direction in that way people do when being watched and smiled. It was a beautiful sight. As she did so, she nodded towards the door. Liz looked over to see Georgiana’s sister, Bess, walk into the drawing room on the arm of one of the most handsome men Liz had ever laid eyes on.

Liz made her way over to Georgiana and sat beside her, deploying her fan as she did so whilst Bess and the beautiful man went to speak to a couple whose name eluded Liz.

‘So, this is the new beau?’

Georgiana nodded. ‘Indeed. Lord Granville Leveson-Gower.’

‘He’s terribly gorgeous.’

‘Outrageously so.’

He was utterly divine. Tall, probably over six feet, beautifully proportioned, but the most startling thing about him was a pair of sapphire eyes filled with a lazy yet watchful intelligence, fringed with dark lashes.

‘Those eyes,’ Liz murmured.

Georgiana nodded, apparently rapt. ‘Killing eyes,’ she murmured.