The grandfather clock in the great hall chimed ten times, its deep, resonant tones echoing through the quiet, sleeping house. A single lamp was lit on a side table, casting a warm, golden circle of light on the polished marble floor and leaving the rest of the vast space in deep, comfortable shadows. Eric stood near the bottom of the grand staircase, waiting. He had been waiting for the better part of an hour, a small, anxious knot tightening in his stomach.
Finally, he heard the faint sound of a carriage arriving, the soft crunch of wheels on the gravel outside. A few moments later, the heavy front door opened and closed with a soft, definitive click. Delia was home.
Eric's face broke into a relieved smile. He walked towards her as she removed her cloak, his initial tone light and teasing. "You're home late, my duchess." He took the cloak from her hands and hung it on the stand by the door.
