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Julian remained silent, listening with undivided attention.

"I am thirty years of age," she continued softly. "I have spent my adult life managing a modest estate, household ledgers, and a family that rarely noted my efforts. I understand how to balance farm accounts, settle tenant boundary disputes, and press botanical specimens between journal leaves. I do not understand how to govern a ducal household, host grand assemblies, or navigate the complex etiquette of formal society."

"Adelaide—"

"I am thirty years old, Julian. I am hardly at an age to acquire such unaccustomed habits easily."

A low, genuine laugh escaped Julian, filling the carriage with a light warmth. "Thirty is hardly an advanced age," he noted.

"It is far from youth."

"If thirty represents advanced age," he remarked, leaning back against the leather seat, "then at thirty-six, I must be entirely ancient."

Adelaide looked at him as a genuine smile brightened his face, erasing the sharp lines of fatigue around his eyes.

"We are remarkably well matched, then," he said.

She blinked in surprise. "In what respect?"

"In every respect," he replied, pausing briefly. "For I have spent thirteen years exploring foreign territories, yet possess equally little understanding of how to behave as a conventional duke."

The admission hung in the air. Adelaide stared at him before letting out a bright, unreserved laugh—a clear sound that dissolved the lingering tension in her shoulders.

Julian smiled in return, the corners of his eyes crinkling with warmth.

"We shall navigate the duties together," he said softly, "even if we are somewhat advanced for beginners."

"Extremely advanced," Adelaide agreed with a faint smile.

"Entirely ancient."

"I believe that was your chosen term."

"You are welcome to employ it," he noted, his smile deepening. "As my duchess, you command full right to my vocabulary."

"I shall remember the privilege."

"You may claim whatever you require," he added quietly. "The house and estate are yours now."

The carriage slowed its pace. Adelaide looked through the glass to see a grand stone facade rising before them—tall, arched windows catching the late afternoon light. Ravensmere House.

The carriage rolled to a stop, and a footman opened the door. Julian stepped out first, extending his hand to assist Adelaide onto the pavement.

Two senior servants waited at the top of the broad stone steps: a tall, formal butler in dark livery with silver-threaded hair, and beside him, a housekeeper in a plain dark dress, her posture erect and dignified.

Julian ascended the steps with Adelaide beside him.

"Mr. Danvers," Julian greeted them. "Mrs. Rutherford."

The butler bowed formally. "Your Grace. Welcome home."

"Mr. Danvers, allow me to present my duchess."

Julian spoke the title with quiet, possessive certainty.

Mr. Danvers offered a deep bow. "Your Grace, may I extend the entire household's warmest congratulations."

"Thank you, Mr. Danvers."