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"Perhaps," Helena conceded gently. "Yet the atmosphere of a country estate is invariably less predatory than the drawing rooms of Mayfair. People are far less inclined to indulge in malice when they are sharing a host's table and enjoying his hospitality."

"You possess a remarkably optimistic view of human nature, Your Grace," George said softly. "Society does not shed its claws simply because it crosses into Hampshire. If anything, the intimacy of a country house party provides greater opportunity for sharp observation."

"Then we shall simply remain observant ourselves," Helena replied easily, shifting her posture so she could look out the carriage window at the passing gold-and-bronze trees bordering the turnpike. "Though I must confess, I am far more looking forward to the quiet hours in the nursery than any ball Arabella has planned. Oliver has been remarkably alert these past few days."

"I trust the movement of the carriage is not causing him any distress? Sarah assured me the landau was fitted with the newest leaf springs, but county roads are notoriously unpredictable."

"He is sleeping quite soundly, I assure you," Helena said with a fond, gentle smile. "In fact, he was in the highest of spirits before we departed this morning. Something quite extraordinary occurred while Sarah was dressing him in the nursery."

George raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? Has he developed a sudden fascination with his rattle?"

"No, Your Grace," Helena answered softly. "He has begun recognizing your voice."

"Nonsense. The child is barely three months old. He possesses no capacity for such a mountainous task. An infant at his stage of development merely reacts to sudden pitch and acoustic resonance. A passing footman with a deep voice would yield the exact same physical response."

Helena let out a short giggle, her eyes sparkling with gentle amusement at his immediate defense. "You may offer all the explanations you wish, Your Grace, but I know what I witnessed. When Sarah was settling him, he was fussing quite loudly over his bonnet straps. The very moment your voice echoed up the stairwell, when you were giving directions to the butler regarding the luggage, he instantly stopped crying."

George cleared his throat. "A mere coincidence of timing, I assure you."

"It was not a coincidence, Your Grace," Helena said softly. "He turned his head toward the open door, his eyes wide and searching, and he did not make another sound until he heard your footsteps move toward the foyer."

"The boy requires structure and familiarity," George managed to say after a long pause, his voice somewhat rougher than usual. "If he has associated my voice with the security of the household, then my effort has achieved its purpose. Nothing more."

Helena did not press the matter. Instead, she offered him a small smile, reaching across the gap between their seats to lay her gloved hand briefly over his wrist.

"You are a far better man than you allow yourself to appear, Your Grace," she whispered. "You hide your tenderness behind a fortress of rules and logic, yet it shines through in every action you take to protect those under your care."

The touch of her hand upon his wrist was light, almost fleeting, yet it burned through the wool of his coat.

The sun was beginning its descent when the carriage finally turned off the main turnpike and passed through the massive wrought-iron gates of Glastonbury Park.

As the carriage pulled up beneath the stone portico before the main entrance, Caspian and Arabella were already waiting upon the broad stone steps to greet them. Arabella, wrapped in a thick fur-lined mantle that comfortably accommodated her rounded figure, waved eagerly as the footmen rushed forward to open the coach door and lower the steps.

George descended first, turning instantly to offer his hand to Helena as she stepped out. Behind them, Sarah quickly emerged, holding a fast-asleep Oliver.

"Welcome to Glastonbury Park!" Arabella exclaimed merrily, stepping forward to embrace Helena. "Oh, Helena, I am so utterly thrilled you agreed to come! London must have been positively dreadful with all the fuss, but here we shall have nothing but peace, quiet, and wonderful company."

"It is an absolute delight to see you looking so well, Arabella," Helena replied warmly. "The country air clearly suits you."

Caspian stepped forward, clapping George firmly on the shoulder. "I see you survived the journey without incident, George."

"The journey was entirely tolerable, though the southern turnpike leaves much to be desired in terms of maintenance," George replied dryly, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness as he looked around the impressive portico. "Your estate remains as imposing as ever."

"Come inside at once and be out of the cold!" Arabella insisted, taking Helena's arm and guiding her toward the open front doors where the butler and head housekeeper stood lined up in formal greeting. "We have had the fires lit in all the main reception rooms, and the nursery wing is entirely prepared for Oliver. Mrs. Danforth will show the nursemaid up immediately so the child can be settled before dinner."

Sarah curtsied politely, following the stately housekeeper, while Caspian led George and Helena into the soaring, double-height entrance hall, dominated by a massive stone hearth.

"I have arranged for your suites to be prepared in the west wing," Caspian explained as a pair of liveried footmen stepped forward to take their traveling cloaks and bonnets. "It is by far the quietest section of the house, overlooking the rose gardens, far removed from the noise of the main staterooms where the other guests will be congregating tomorrow."

"That is most thoughtful of you, Caspian," Helena said graciously, smoothing her gloves as she looked up at the gallery above. "A quiet view will be most welcome."

"Please refresh yourselves before tea," Arabella added, offering them a bright, mischievous smile that George found instantly suspicious. "We shall be waiting in the small drawing room whenever you are ready."

George nodded, extending his arm to Helena as they followed a senior housemaid up the staircase and down a carpeted corridor lined with family portraits and antique tapestries.

The housemaid stopped before a double door of polished mahogany. "This is Her Grace's suite," turning the silver handle and pushing open the door to reveal an elegantly appointed bedchamber bathed in the warm glow of a crackling hearth. The room featured a magnificent canopy bed draped in pale cream silk, a plush velvet sofa near the window, and an elaborate rosewood dressing table.

"It is breathtaking," Helena murmured, stepping into the center of the room and looking around with appreciation. "Arabella has truly outdone herself."