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His quiet irritation was interrupted by Laurence.

“I hear the Duchess had quite the fall yesterday; how did that happen?” His question was pointed, and Arthur knew his irritating companion well enough to know that was not the question he was actually asking.

Arthur lowered his newspaper only enough to meet his friend's eye, and Laurence's expression made the question plain.

What did you do? Laurence's eyebrows were taunting and teasing. Laurence knew perfectly well that Arthur would sooner break his own hand than raise it against a woman.

Before he could answer, the dining-room door opened, and his newspaper lowered by an inch as he looked up.

Eliza entered and moved more carefully than she had yesterday, dressed once again in the pale blue gown from the day before. She smiled politely as greetings were exchanged before taking her seat.

Her own seat. Three places away.

There was no scraping of chairs across polished oak. No inching imperceptibly closer to him. No cheerful attempt to bridge the distance he had deliberately placed between them.

She simply sat.

A faint bruise had begun to bloom across her forearm, its dark edges visible beneath the morning light.

Otherwise, she looked remarkably well.

"How are you feeling, my dear?" his mother asked.

"Stiff, but well, thank you," Eliza replied softly, arranging her cutlery with unusual care.

"And thank you for sending dinner to my room last night. I wasn't certain I would have managed the journey downstairs."

His mother's smile faltered ever so slightly.

It had not been the Dowager’s instruction. It had been his—a practical decision and nothing more.

He turned a page of his paper, but his attention remained on the conversation.

“How did it happen?” He heard Laurence ask.

"I had not yet seen the grounds, so I thought I would explore. On my adventures, I found the most magnificent horses and insisted on riding one, though I had never ridden before."

Arthur continued reading.

"I assumed riding would be one of the accomplishments expected of a Duchess, so I thought I was being practical by beginning straight away."

"And?" Laurence prompted.

"And..." She laughed softly at herself. "I don't think the horse cared for me very much."

Across the table, Laurence smiled.

"I'm sure that's not true," Laurence said gently. His friend's eyes found Arthur as if expecting him to intervene in the conversation, but Arthur would not.

She lowered her eyes to her breakfast, and the room was quiet once again.

He turned another page.

"If I may be so bold, Your Grace, where will your adventures take you today? Hopefully you shy away from fencing, or any other physical pursuits that may cause further injury," his friend was goading him, turning breakfast into a battle of wits, willing him to interject. He refused to rise to the bait.

"Today I begin my dance lessons," Eliza said, brightening a little.

Arthur glanced at her almost instinctively. Would it be wise for her to begin lessons so soon after her fall? He could not say. The physician had declared her fit enough, and he had to trust that she knew the limits of her own body.