Outside the estate walls, November continued its grey and committed work.
Neither of them moved for a while. The courtyard held them in its particular quiet — the lavender, the frame, the chair that Mrs. Baker had placed at the correct angle for the morning light. The autumn honey jar sat on the flagstone where Carson had set it back down.
"Lucson," she said, eventually.
"Tonight," Grayson said.
"How."
"I'll tell him." He said this with confidence.
He shifted slightly, his arm adjusting around her without loosening. "It won't be a long conversation."
"What will he say."
Grayson thought about it honestly, which was the only way he thought about things. "He'll ask whether this changes the estate's position in terms of — alliances. Exposure." A pause. "He'll frame it as operational concern."
"And what will you say."
"That the arrangement is mine and is not subject to assessment." He said this without heat. "He'll accept that."
"Will he."
