Page 34

Radnor walked to the foot of Arthur's desk, Laurence following behind. Together they sprawled a map of Europe across its surface before turning their attention to military matters.

"With the units in the east, the territory is..."

Radnor's voice faded into the background while Arthur mentally catalogued the day's tasks. At the top of the list was a conversation with Mr Ellis about the briefing he previously declined.

Chapter 12

Eliza was grateful for the reprieve from her mother-in-law. The woman was well-intentioned, but there had been much for Eliza to absorb in a single day. When the Dowager announced she was going to retire for the afternoon, Eliza leapt at the chance for a moment to herself. With only the echo of the Dowager's gentle guidance lingering, she decided to explore her new home.

She was very thankful that the Dowager was a patient teacher. Had she been anything less, Eliza was quite certain she would have spent the afternoon in tears.

Simply unfashionable.

Simply not done.

No, no, no.

One did not skip.

One did not whistle.

That was, in essence, all she had heard that afternoon. During her tour of the ground floor, she had caught a glimpse of the most beautiful arrangement of pastries and sugared fruits being assembled by the cooks and, naturally, had wandered in to compliment them.

Apparently...

Entering the servants' kitchen was simply not done.

There were so many rules, and she did not see why most of them mattered within the confines of her new home. Beyond the estate, she could understand the need to maintain propriety, but she could not fathom why it needed to be upheld at Winworth. If anything, Mrs Didley would have thrust an apron over their heads and told them to stir the pudding, yet here even the smallest curiosity felt like a misstep.

That was not the only thing that had drawn her to the kitchens. The majority of the estate was silent, save for the chiming of clocks and birdsong drifting in from the grounds. The kitchen, however, was alive. Staff bustled between ovens and worktables, chatting quietly as they worked, and for the first time since arriving, it felt like a place where people truly lived. She wanted to join them.

Still reflecting on her lessons, Eliza learned she would be expected to host frequently as a Duchess. She was also expected to be well-versed in several accomplishments; she would need to know how to dance, paint, and play the pianoforte. The list seemed endless, but at least it gave her something to fill her days with. She decided dancing would come first. Eliza wanted to master the skill before she next danced with Arthur, and she had absolutely adored the live music the evening before. She had never heard such a symphony, and if she could, she would listen to the hum of a violin all day.

Vinnie had rushed away the moment she learned of Eliza's plans to make the necessary arrangements. She had mumbled something about needing the Duke's approval to hire a musician for her dance lessons before disappearing out of the door, leaving Eliza no opportunity to question it further.

That was how she had ended up outside, wandering the grounds of Winworth.

Alone.

With Vinnie making preparations and the Dowager retired for the afternoon, her guided tour of Winworth would have to wait. Instead, Eliza set off to explore the gardens and grounds on her own, hoping she did not wander so far that she would struggle to find her way back.

The formal gardens were magnificent. Rose beds stretched in perfect symmetry. Stone fountains trickled quietly. Every hedge was trimmed to perfection.

It was all rather perfect, yet the woodland on the border of the estate called to her far more than manicured hedges ever could. As a child, she had adored stories of enchanted forests, singing trees and mystical fae. She had barely stepped beyond the edge of the clearing when the unmistakable sound of hooves reached her ears.

To her left, she saw a modest outbuilding being used as a stable.

A sudden sense of accomplishment washed over her.

So this was where the household kept its horses.

Better yet, she caught a glimpse of someone shifting hay inside one of the stables. It had been over an hour since she had spoken to another soul, so she abandoned the woodland path at once and made way for the outbuilding, wondering whether she was about to be welcomed or corrected once more. Within moments, she was standing at its threshold.

"Hello! Am I allowed to visit?" she called out, clasping her hands excitedly.

The boy was no longer visible, and she worried the Dowager might appear as an apparition to inform her that one must not simply enter a stable, so she hesitated. Then a grey hat emerged from behind a pile of hay, perched atop the head of a boy with wide cheeks and warm brown eyes. At the sight of her, he froze, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Your Grace."