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Wellington House in London was much less lonely than the estate in Somerset. With his mother, sisters, and occasional visit from his brother, the Duke was not only occupied with parliament, but with family as well. He'd reached out to Reuben a few evenings ago, hoping to see his niece after he'd returned from the country house to attend a few more balls that season. Though he wasn't entirely keen on finding his wife that season, his mother certainly was.

Leaving the carriage, he gave the footmen a nod as he entered the immense building, removing his top hat. Cooper, the butler, had informed him that his brother arrived, along with Evelina's governess and... the goat. William was about to inquire why Cooper had permitted the animal to enter the house, but then he remembered his niece and her attachment to him. Grimacing slightly at the idea of the farm animal prancing about the drawing room, the Duke straightened his tailcoat before waiting for the servants to open the door.

Entering, he acknowledged those present in the room with a small nod, "Brother, Miss Honeyfield." Kneeling down on one knee, he opened his arms wide for Evelina with a grin, disregarding the goat and praying that they would not follow his niece into his embrace.

It was true. William would become furious would jealousy had she told him that she took a love, or had he discovered it in other ways. He had committed the latter, and he somewhat understood why she was incredibly pained. That was why he was on one knee before her, hand holding hers, his own eyes filling with tears as he watched her break down. It completely destroyed him, and he felt ever so grateful that she'd offered her his hand, at least, as some sort of comfort. 

He gently squeezed her hand as he tried his best to console her, the lump that was forming in the centre of his throat enlarging more and more. A tear slowly trickled down his cheek. William did not cry. He was taught from an early age that men did not -- that it was highly unbecoming and degrading for a Duke. Cowardly. No lady in her right mind desired a crying man. Would Elizabeth have a coward? A weak husband?

"You are more than enough," William admitted as he pulled her hand to his lips, planting a small kiss on it. "I have been blinded by the idea of being a man in my position," His words were true. They were an outpour of emotion at that point. "Thinking that I can do as I wish without consequences, but I was wrong, Elizabeth," And he realised that now. "So tell me what you want me to do to mend the wound that I have caused, for that is all I wish. Always and forever."

"Treacherous you have made it!" He exclaimed, though in reality, and deep down inside, he knew this was his fault. The blame was on him for seeking a mistress, yes, yet the world told him that he could. Had he known that Elizabeth would find out about Isabel, he would not have sought her in the first place. His desires had released the worst of him, specifically when his curiosity piqued, and he joined his friends for a night at her bawdy house.

Then she went on to mention the promises that he failed to keep. This conversation would go on and on without end. No words he could utter could put it to a stop. William knew that all too well. "Elizabeth, please." He objected, exasperated at that point.

He registered her next set of words, knowing in his mind that she could very well take a secret lover if she sired him an heir. That was somewhat accepted by their tight-knit society, though not by him. "Yes, I would, but would you dare tell me of him?" What was he saying at that point? He just wanted to put a stop to the endless arguing. His heart completely shattered, however, when she mentioned in her pain. The fresh tears did not help either.

William stood there speechless at first, trying to gather the courage to speak. After what felt like an eternity, he managed to, "I... I am terribly sorry, Elizabeth," His intention had not been to hurt her. Will had lost his temper. Now he felt humbled. Approaching his wife slowly, he suddenly bent down on one knee, taking one of her hands. "I'm sorry," His heart beat rapidly against his chest. "If I could make things right again, I would reach for the heavens and bring them down to induce happiness in your life once more," There was a short pause as he fixated his weary ceruleans on her teary browns. "But I realise now that I cannot do that...  I cannot undo what I have done, nor can I possibly beg for your forgiveness." 

Glancing behind his shoulder as she spoke, he watched as her eyes welled. Her facial expression stung him and his armour shattered for a moment. William had completely stopped in his tracks, feeling a slight lump form in his throat, and due to his sudden breathlessness, he could not find the words to speak. Watching the woman he truly loved tear up in front of him broke him internally, and it certainly showed for a moment.

Then, his expression changed when she brought up the fact that all he desired was an obedient wife. "That is far from true, Elizabeth!" He snapped. "You forget the reason I married you in the first place!" And it certainly wasn't because she was docile. It was because he loved her, and still did, but a man had his needs, especially when his wife was with child. Did she not understand that? No man in his position was a saint, yet how could he explain that concept to her without meeting his demise?

Storming up the steps to his side of the estate, Will did not dare look back as she hissed her words at him, "I will call on the wet nurse," He could not help but turn around once more when she inquired if he hated her. "How could you think that?! You are not acting reasonable right now, wife, and that is why I am taking the Charles and Henry. Once you discover your sense, then I will send you a carriage to return to London." 

Of course the decision was up to Elizabeth. She was old enough to make her own decisions in terms of the marriage market, but William was in the man's office out of respect -- as well as the fact that he had a one hundred pound engagement ring hidden in one of his tailcoat's pockets. Charles Davenport was far from presumptuous in this case. The thirty-one-year-old was seeking his daughter's attentions since the night he'd met her on the dance floor.

"My Lord, you are far from assumptive," William returned, suddenly reaching in his pocket and pulling out the velvet box that contained the ring he'd purchased that early morning. His mother's eyes had lit up upon entering the room, curious if the day her eldest son's wedded had finally arrived. "I am here to request Elizabeth's hand in marriage." But he couldn't just simply utter that and believe the patriarch would agree. He had to explain his claim.

"There was no compromising at hand, I assure you," Will continued. "I merely cherish her, and you would honour me with your blessing."

William was quick to offer the older figure a bow, followed by a warm smile as the man welcomed him further inside. "My Lord." Traveling toward his office, he tried to maintain his composure as he thought about the words he was going to use to request his eldest daughter's hand in marriage. As they passed one of the rooms in the estate, he could not help but take a peek to see if Elizabeth was there. However, she was nowhere in sight.

The door closed behind them and William listened to Lord Davenport speak, "It was my pleasure," He nodded once. "She appeared fatigued, and any man of honour would have offered her a carriage home. I pray she is well today?" He could not possibly tell her father that they'd spent the evening together at Hyde Park. That was out of the question. William waited for the man to take a seat first. 

"Indeed there is, My Lord," He responded to his question. "Miss Davenport is the reason I am here today."