"I will ask the porter to move a rug into this room before the fire. The wood is cold, and it seems quite the oversight."

"Robin, dear, leave off worrying about me and hand me the paper!"

"But it will benefit Father as well - the cold has set off his rheumatism."

"You are avoiding the topic."

"Regardless, we will move the rug. I do hate to see you upset yourself over home, however. The entire reason for this journey was for rest."

Elizabeth reached for the paper that he offered as he spoke, and before she took it, show folded her hand over his. "You are all kindness, but you know as well as I that to deprive me of news from our dear Firenza would not benefit me. Enfin, l'ignorance est la mère de tous les maux."

Raising their hands, he pressed his lips to her hand and nodded. "I did not mean to restrict you, of course.. You read while I mind the rug."

She released him with a distracted smile, her eyes already dropping to the personals of Le Moniteur Universal Robert set the rest of the papers provided by the porter down on a table within Elizabeth's reach, and she flipped past the first few pages to the editorials. A quick scan revealed nothing specific about Napoleon's response to the bombing, but that was to be expected. The kidnapping of a child in Bologna was, of course, shocking, but not relevant to the political crisis. The new undersea cable. Ships moved around in the Mediterranean - could be a sign that England expected trouble from France.

"Ha!" A sudden laugh escaped her lips.

"What is it?" Robert wondered from the next room.

"Acquittal for the Caffaro bunch," she shouted back before her voice fell to a mumble. "Honestly, this comes as a surprise. A government so corrupt? Perhaps he promised silence - a pity."

The French papers offered the real news, but the Times - a complete puppet for the Crown - revealed as much about the mindset of the government as it did of actual information, sadly.

Abruptly, she sat up straighter, bring her feet to rest on the floor. "Robin!" She raised her voice, which sent her into a light coughing fit before her husband appeared with a glass of water.

"What is it?"

"I cannot believe this!" She pointed to a headline hidden on page nine, behind the editorials and the major news..

It read "PERSONAL," and as Robert settled in beside her, she could hear a gasp of shock from him that matched her own sentiments. "Three-and-twenty years have passed since I entered on my present relations with the Public." What followed drew several exclamations from both Elizabeth and her husband, and by the time they finished the article, Elizabeth's face had flushed with anger.

"You think it untrue?" Robert prompted, though he no doubt could read her answer in the flare of her nostrils or the grinding of her teeth.

"I need the American papers."

"The will exaggerate..."

"They will speculate, but they will not hedge the truth." Turning to him, her eyes pleading, she took his hand again. "I am sorry to burden you. Perhaps a porter...?"

One corner of Robert's mouth lifted. "My little Portuguese, it is no burden. Though you may need to wait until after our dinner this evening. In the meantime, will Italy and France suffice?"

"Italy and France will always suffice. Though, if you don't mind..." She gestured to a stack of books.

"Sand or Hugo? We are in France, after all."

"I am feeling particularly passionate about Sand at the moment, and the Vindication. Oh, and Hume. My sympathy is awakened and needs soothing."

After transferring the requested books to her table, Robert pecked her cheek and spun out the door, on the hunt for the evening's human companions for himself and the literary one's for his beloved.