They were so absorbed in each other that neither heard the library door open until a horrified gasp broke them apart.
Morrison stood frozen in the doorway, face scarlet, eyes wide with shock. "I...Your Grace...Miss Whitcombe...I'm so sorry, I didn't...I'll just..."
"Morrison, wait." Adrian's voice carried ducal authority even as he straightened his disordered clothing. "Come in and close the door."
The young man obeyed, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else in the world. Eveline tried to smooth her hair, acutely aware of how they must appear—flushed, disheveled, obviously interrupted in a passionate embrace. Morrison had seen them before being quite close but not actually kissing each other and that had obviously shocked him.
"Mr. Morrison," she began, but Adrian held up a hand.
"Let me." He faced the young scholar squarely. "What you've witnessed is a private matter between Miss Whitcombe and myself. Our personal relationship has no bearing on her professional positions or scholarly work."
"Of course not, Your Grace." Morrison's voice squeaked slightly. "I would never suggest...that is, Miss Whitcombe's brilliance is evident regardless of..."
"Breathe, Morrison," Eveline advised gently. "You've done nothing wrong."
The young man gulped air obediently. "I won't speak of this to anyone. You have my word."
"We know," Adrian said. "You're a good man, Morrison. Discrete and honorable. That's why I'm trusting you with this knowledge."
"You... trust me?" Morrison looked stunned by the concept.
"Completely." Adrian moved to pour brandy, offering a glass to the still-shaken young man. "Sit. Let's discuss this like rational adults."
Morrison sat gingerly, accepting the brandy with trembling hands. "I don't understand. You and Miss Whitcombe... how long?"
"Weeks," Eveline admitted, taking her own seat. "Though we tried very hard to maintain professional boundaries."
"Tried and spectacularly failed," Adrian added with a rueful smile. "As you've just witnessed."
"But your work," Morrison said to Eveline, concern evident in his voice. "Your positions, your reputation...if people knew..."
"Which is why we've been discrete," she said. "My work stands on its own merits, regardless of my personal feelings for His Grace."
"Of course it does!" Morrison's defense was immediate and fierce. "Anyone who suggests otherwise is a fool. Your Byzantine discoveries alone have revolutionized the field, and your translations are brilliant, and..." He stopped, coloring again.
"Thank you," Eveline said softly, touched by his vehemence. "Your support means more than you know."
Morrison took a large gulp of brandy, coughing slightly. When he recovered, his expression was thoughtful rather than shocked. "It makes sense, actually. The way you work together, finish each other's thoughts, argue about obscure classical references as if they're the most important things in the world... I should have seen it."
"Most people see what they expect to see," Adrian said. "A duke and his employee, maintaining appropriate distance."
"But you're not that at all, are you?" Morrison looked between them with growing understanding. "You're partners. In everything."
"Yes," Eveline said simply. "We are."
"That's..." Morrison paused, searching for words. "That's actually rather wonderful. Unconventional, certainly, and probably scandalous if it becomes known, but wonderful nonetheless."
"You're taking this remarkably well," Adrian observed.
"I've learned a great deal these past weeks," Morrison said earnestly. "Not just about manuscripts and translations, but about what scholarship can be when people work together as equals. Watching you both, seeing how you challenge and support each other... it's changed how I think about everything."
"You give us too much credit," Eveline protested.
"No," Morrison said firmly. "I don't think I give you enough." He stood, setting down his empty glass. "Your secret is safe with me. Both of you have shown me more kindness and mentorship than I had any right to expect. I won't repay that with gossip."
"Thank you," Adrian said, standing to shake the young man's hand. "Your discretion is appreciated."
"Though perhaps knock more loudly in future," Eveline suggested with a weak smile.
