Sometimes when she worked, her father nattered on about his day at work. One day, he said, he had as many as four cases come before him on the Bench. The next day, only one. Wasn’t it interesting, he said, how the wheels of justice spun some days like a rogue cart with no driver, and some days, not at all?

  He was most perplexed about the day only one case came before him. “It had to do with the Alucian trade agreement, which I understand has been completed save a few nicks here and there.”

  Eliza had a clock wheel in her hands, and was rubbing it with oil. She didn’t really care about that agreement. All she cared about was that no one had come to this house, not even a messenger. She supposed Sebastian was entirely occupied with the revelation of rebellion and finishing the trade agreement. He was probably seeing to it that all his things were packed and readied to go. Maybe he was entertaining the two young women who wanted to be his bride.

  Hollis dined with Eliza and her father one night and reported that the London papers were full of scandalous bits of gossip about the Alucian plot of murder and betrothal intrigue. She seemed rather envious of the gossip but claimed to be offended on Eliza’s behalf.

  “The announcement of any engagement has been put on hold, naturally, for it wouldn’t do to uncover a scheme to murder the prince, then announce his engagement.”

  “Murder!” Eliza exclaimed.

  “Well, not murder but kidnapping, which one could reasonably assume would lead to murder.”

  “I don’t think you should assume anything, darling,” their father said.

  “The Times alluded to many adulterous affairs among all the Alucians. I even heard,” Hollis said, leaning forward, “that some think it was the prince who was having an affair with the lady, and when his secretary discovered it, he had him murdered so that it would not be discovered.” Her eyes widened.

  “That makes no sense,” Poppy said from her place at the table. “Why would he murder the secretary? Could he not have merely threatened him with his job instead?”

  “This is precisely the problem with untoward speculation,” their father said. “It is presented as fact. None of us truly know what happened, and none of us should be spreading gossip.”

  Hollis looked guiltily at her plate.

  But later, when their father had retired for the evening, Hollis told Eliza that she’d heard that the engagement would be the last thing to be announced before the prince’s departure at the end of the week.

  “Oh?” Eliza tried to keep her voice light and carefree. “Has a date of departure been set?”

  “According to the Times, the Alucians will depart at midnight Wednesday, weather permitting.”

  So that was it. She had only a few days left to hope of any word from a butterfly trapped in a royal cocoon, kept away from any and all who might do him harm.

  Oh, Eliza, what have you done to yourself?

  “Eliza?” Hollis said.

  “I’m fine,” Eliza said quickly, and yanked so hard at the door of a cuckoo clock that she broke it off.

  “Leave the clock—”

  “No,” Eliza said, and slapped away Hollis’s hand. She had to keep her hands busy. She had to keep her mind fixed on little problems that had clear solutions with not the slightest ambiguity.

  That night, Eliza read to her father from some mindless, wretchedly tiresome legal tomes having to do with government tariffs.

  “I should think the question obviously answered,” her father said when Eliza had finished reading. “The tariff is, by its nature, prohibitive. Would you not agree, darling?”

  She had no idea what he meant, for her thoughts had been elsewhere while her mind had read the words. “Oh, I... I wasn’t really listening,” she admitted.

  As the days marched toward Wednesday, Eliza grew more despondent. One day, she was in her room, lying face down on her bed, her head hanging off the side, tracing a circle over and over again on the carpet with her finger. She felt ill. Her feelings for Sebastian had coagulated and hardened in a lump in her belly, constantly there, constantly aching. She wished he would set sail as soon as possible so that she could suffer in peace.

  She heard voices at the door, her father and his friend, Mr. Fletcher. She heard Jack and John barking as if an army had invaded their cozy house. “Eliza!” her father called. “Are you home, darling?”

  She sighed, pushed herself up. She paused in front of the mirror and noticed how unkempt she looked. She ought to do something about that. Perhaps she would on the morrow.

  “Here I am, Pappa,” she said as she walked into the parlor. She greeted him with a kiss to his cheek. “Margaret has made a stew this evening. Would you like some wine before we dine?”

  “Oh, I think I’ll have a whisky this evening, my love. And how are you this fine day?”

  “Very well.” She walked to the sideboard, passing by her desk. When she did, she noticed the post that was stacked there. She’d not attended to it in days, really, too despondent to care. But tonight, she happened to notice the corner of a light blue envelope sticking out from the pile. She paused to pull that one from the stack of official correspondence and saw that it was addressed to her.

  “I’ve had a very interesting day, all in all. The infamous trade deal returned to me.”

  “Did it?” she asked absently, and turned the letter over. It was sealed with wax, but the markings weren’t familiar to her. She broke the seal.

  “Tariffs can be a tricky thing, I suppose, but as I explained to the barrister, this was rather straightforward. Of course the tariff was prohibitive. All tariffs are prohibitive by nature, but the question is how prohibitive.”

  She unfolded the letter. Amor loyal—S.

  The blood immediately drained from her face.

  “What do you think?” her father asked.

  “What? Oh. Yes, of course,” she said. “Whisky, you said?”

  “Please, darling. I wasn’t expecting the case, as the preliminary inquiry was brought a few days ago, and Mr. Frink had advised it be sent to another justice who was more familiar.”

  Eliza quickly poured the whisky and put it in her father’s hand, then took her note and sat in the chair beside him, her fingers tracing over the lines of the ink. Love is loyal. He’d sent her a note after all, and in her general malaise, she’d failed to notice it. But when had it come? And what did the note mean? Was it his goodbye?

  Ben entered the room with fuel for the hearth.

  “Ben, did the post come today?” she asked.

  He looked at the desk. “No post today, miss. That’s been sitting there, what, two, three days now?” He went down on one knee and began to place logs on the fire.

  She’d been wandering around like the dead, apparently.

  Poppy suddenly swept into the room carrying a stack of books that she placed next to another stack on the shelves. “You’re late tonight, Your Honor!” she said brightly. She picked up a shawl and went to the judge to drape it around his shoulders while the cat tried to catch the tail of it.

  “I had a pint with the lads,” her father said jovially. “We had quite a bit of excitement today.”

  “Did you?” Poppy asked, and bent down to pick up the cat.

  Amor loyal. Was he asking her to remain loyal? Well, she’d need more information than this. She looked again at the letter, at the words he’d written, so neat. So blessedly regal.

  As her father explained to Poppy and Ben his views on tariffs or God knew what, Eliza felt slightly panicked. As if she was supposed to know something. To understand this note. To do something. Was she to have done something?

  So when a knock came at the door, she leapt up as quickly as the dogs did. “I’ll see who has come,” she said before Ben or Poppy could say it. But the moment she stepped out of the parlor, Hollis’s voice rang out. “It’s me, darlings!”

  Eliza walked into the hall, still clutching the letter.

  Hollis took off her coat and bonnet and hung them on the pegs. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I was hoping you were someone else.”

  “I beg your pardon! Then you’ll be pleased to know someone else has come.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. Mr. Frink is outside with another gentleman.”

  Hollis glanced at herself in the entry mirror, then jumped when another knock came to the door. Jack and John nearly bowled her over. “For God’s sake, those dogs!” she cried.

  “Jack! John!” Eliza commanded.

  The two terriers raced toward her and veered off, following her pointing into the parlor.

  Hollis opened the door. “Oh! Good evening again, Mr. Frink.”

  “Mrs. Honeycutt.”

  Behind Mr. Frink, Eliza could see two gentlemen. Englishmen. They quickly doffed their caps.

  “I beg your pardon for the intrusion, but is the judge at home?”

  “Didn’t you bring him?” Hollis asked.

  “Not tonight,” Mr. Frink said. “I was detained with some pressing business.”

  “He’s here,” Eliza said, and gestured Mr. Frink in. The two men entered behind him, nodding politely.

  In the parlor, the dogs began to bark again.

  “You better come with me before they attack,” Hollis said. She indicated the men should follow her and stepped into the parlor. “Down, Jack, for heaven’s sake! Pappa, you have callers. Mr. Frink has come!”

  One of the gentlemen had left the door open, so Eliza went to close it before joining the others. But at the door, she noticed several men gathered on the sidewalk. She pulled the door open wider. And her heart, which had hung so low that it had dragged the floor these last few days, sprang into her throat. Sebastian was standing on the walk in the middle of those men.

  He was dressed in full princely regalia—a sash across his chest, pinned with a crest of some sort. A slew of medals arrayed on his breast. He wore a top hat and a greatcoat and looked as if he was on his way to a ball. Or an opera. His dress confused her—what was he doing here, dressed like that?

  She blinked, half-expecting him to disappear. But he didn’t. He stood there, looking up at her with a peculiar mix of anguish and joy.

  Eliza did not understand what was happening, but the butterflies were swirling madly in her belly. “I don’t...has something happened?”

  He stepped forward, out of the group of his men. “You received my note?”

  She was still holding it, she realized. The paper was growing damp with her grip. “Not a few minutes ago.”

  He took another step forward. “Is there some place we might speak?”

  Eliza glanced down the street. Lights were illuminating windows. Most people were home for the evening and she was certain many of them had been drawn to their windows by all the commotion of carriages and men. It was the curse of living on a square. “My father has callers.”

  “I know.” He took another step forward.

  He must have seen them come in. “We could speak in the square,” she said, indicating the patch of green behind him.

  “Wherever you like.” He held out his hand to her.

  She was very aware that she looked as if she’d been drowning in self-pity for days. Because she had. She tucked a bit of hair behind her ear and came down the steps. She did not take his hand or put her hand on his arm—it was more than she could bear to touch him, so she folded her arms across her body.

  Sebastian accepted that and clasped his hands behind his back. He wordlessly escorted her through that throng of men—all of them eyeing her very curiously—and across the street to the green. When they reached the square, he slowly turned to face her. Her rubbed his nape with his hand, drew a breath and said, “Eliza, I... I have something I must say.”

  All her nerves, all her worry, all her grief, collapsed in on itself, and she couldn’t bear to hear it. “For heaven’s sake, don’t make this any harder than it is, Sebastian, please. I understand. You needn’t have come all this way to explain.”

  Except that he did need to explain. But she didn’t think she’d survive it.

  “You—”

  “Of course I do,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. She was shaking, she realized. His nearness, her feelings for him, had all got the better of her. “You didn’t honestly believe I was foolish enough to harbor any illusions, did you?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “I only wanted the chance to say goodbye, Sebastian. That’s all. Just to say goodbye, and thank you, although that must sound very odd. But you can’t possibly know what your friendship means to me. Meant to me. And I wanted to tell you...well, I hadn’t intended it like this, I thought at least I’d be properly dressed, but I wanted to tell you before you set sail that I...” She gasped in the breath she’d not been able to take. “I love you, too.” She gasped for another breath after admitting it. “Loved,” she whispered sadly.

  Sebastian stared at her, looking a wee bit stunned. “You wanted to tell me goodbye?”

  That was what he’d heard? “That, and the other part. Most sincerely, the other part.”

  His brows dipped. “The part about loving me?”

  “Yes, that part! Oh, I am making a mess of it. I had intended to say it in a more poignant way, obviously, and a more poignant place would have been better,” she said, glancing around the square. “But I wasn’t expecting you.” She laughed a little hysterically. “I’ve thought all these long days that you’d leave without seeing me, and I was devastated, really, and I hadn’t seen the note, and I don’t even know when it arrived because I’ve been terribly out of sorts, but I didn’t see it until tonight, and when I did, I was very touched, but I wasn’t quite certain what you meant. What did you mean, Sebastian? That I’m to remain loyal to you? Or that you would remain loyal to me? Or was it simply a lovely sentiment to say fare-thee-well? I wasn’t certain at all, and I’ve had no time to think it through, really. Or prepare for this moment.” She gestured to her hair.

  “You look beautiful.”

  “I look like I’ve been sweeping chimneys!”

  He chuckled. It almost erupted out of him, as if he’d been trying to hold it in. But once it was out, he laughed. He laughed so that he bent over with it. Some of the men came around the carriage to see if anything was amiss.

  “Why are you laughing?” she demanded. “This is not at all how I would have had our last moment happen, but it’s here and I’ve done the best I know to do!”

  “Dearest Eliza,” he said, and wiped a tear of laughter from beneath his eye. “You cannot possibly imagine how you’ve tormented me these many days.”

  “How I’ve tormented you?” She sobered. “You said you’d come.”

  “I know,” he said, sobering, too. “It proved impossible with the things that unfolded after our meeting on Bond Street.”

  “I suspected as much.” She touched his hand, laced her fingers with his. “So this is where it ends, then,” she said morosely.

  “That is my fervent hope,” he agreed.

  “Oh,” she said, feeling a little stung. “That is...you hope it will end?”

  “Eliza.” He put his hand to her neck. “Did you really think I could leave England without you?”

  “Pardon?”

  “There are men in your house at this very moment, explaining to your father that he is to be made a baron. So that you will be made a lady.”

  She didn’t understand him. “I don’t want to be a lady—”

  “But do you want to be a princess? And one day be a queen? No, don’t answer me. Listen to me first, please.”

  She couldn’t have answered even if she’d wanted—he’d knocked the breath clean from her lungs.

  “I came here tonight to ask if would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife, but I can’t ask you that without explaining to you that it won’t be easy.”

  “What?” The world felt as if it was tilting into a dream. It had to be a dream, because it made no sense. Was he mad? Had he been mad all along? Had she embarked on a lark with a madman—

  “What I mean is that you must understand there is constant scrutiny. Your every move will be studied, your every word examined. Every manner reviewed in the papers, in the salons. It’s not an easy life, the one I offer.”

  “What life? I think... I mean, some of what you have said—”

  “Of course there is privilege and crowns and horsehair crinolines if your heart desires it. And I vow to you now I would protect you with all that I have. But it’s not fair—I must make you understand the truth before you answer. I must tell you that in addition to all that, I live a quiet life with books and horses, and it’s not terribly exciting.”

  He spoke almost apologetically, and quite earnestly.

  “I need you to know all of this before I tell you that I have fallen so hard in love with you, Eliza. Deeply in love. I am forbidden by our laws from marrying a commoner, but I may marry the daughter of a baron. So I... I made it part of the final trade agreement negotiation.”

  Eliza was stunned. She wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. “You what?”

  “My terms were simple—I must have you. We arranged to bring a legal question to your father—”

  She gasped—her father’s nattering suddenly rushed back to her. “If the tariff was set for purposes of revenue or to prohibit trade!” she exclaimed. “And it was a very simple answer!”

  “Je. It was a simple answer. We made the case that the judge had cleared the last hurdle for the agreement and should be made a baron in appreciation for his service, and we reserved a few things to offer in exchange for it, and...and it doesn’t matter how it happened, or why, but there are men in your parlor explaining to your father now that he has been granted a title by decree of the queen, and I love you, Eliza. I love you. And I won’t leave this island without your favorable reply.”