Lord Melbourne awoke in his bedroom, much to his valet's surprise. He usually fell asleep in the library, brandy in one hand and a book in the other, and Davies, the valet, took this to be a sign that his employer was happy. An even greater sign was the fact that Melbourne was awake and writing, sitting comfortably amidst the pillows.
"Morning." Melbourne nodded, taking the proffered coffee and placing a letter in the valet's hand. "Please see that Her Majesty receives this before eight, and I'll need my riding clothes."
Davies nodded, attempting to suppress a smile.
"Absolutely. May I suggest the green jacket?"
Melbourne was waiting at their old meeting point atop his chestnut horse. He was struck by her beauty when her horse trotted before him. The morning was misty and one could see one's breath, yet he was not cold. One smile from her was enough to warm his damaged heart. She was dream like, and he should know for she had filled a decades worth of his.
Victoria adjusted her fur collar and shivered slightly.
"Are you not cold, Lord M?"
"Not at all, Ma'am. However, if you are I must suggest the only known remedy."
"And what would that be?"
"Race you to the Palace."
Melbourne clicked his heels and galloped off, her peels of laughter filling his ears.
As they entered the Palace, out of breath yet exhilarated, Victoria removed her hat and gestured towards the private quarters.
"The fire must be lit in the library. I'll call for some tea."
He saw that she had cut her hair shorter, evidenced by the loose tendrils escaping from her bun. It made her seem younger, somehow, as did the black riding habit that she wore. It reminded him of their first meeting in Kensington all those years ago.
Once the tea had been placed on a small table and teacups warmed their hands, Victoria hung her head and sighed.
"Ma'am?" He asked, noting the desolate look on her face.
"Lord M, as my truest friend, I must ask you something." She looked inquiringly into his haunting green eyes, the eyes that always gave her such courage.
"Ask away."
"Would it be wrong of me to re-enter society? I felt so criminal ordering half mourning gowns but I feel that I cannot go on like this."
Lord Melbourne nodded understandingly and told her, softly: "I do not believe that Prince Albert would want you to live shrouded in darkness. He would want you to be happy."
Their eyes met and she smiled, relief washed over her as a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
"Perhaps I could go to the opera. I have missed it. Will you join me, once the gowns arrive?"
Melbourne chuckled as her whole face brightened and nodded his assent.
The next evening, Victoria met Melbourne in the royal box, clad in a grey silk gown and bedecked with pearls.
He bowed as she gave him her hand to kiss. She was joined by her mother and Emma Portman, her faithful friend from the beginning of her reign.
"I don't know about all of you," Victoria announced to the party, "but I am very much looking forward to an evening of second hand emotion."
During the second act, Lord Melbourne saw Victoria's face crumple and saw her tears flow freely. She searched for a handkerchief but was unsuccessful, that was until he offered his.
Naturally, the appearance of the reclusive Queen intrigued the audience far more than mere opera and so they noticed every exchange between Her Majesty and her Prime Minister. They noticed that he offered his handkerchief, they noticed the way in which her hand brushed his as she took it gratefully. They saw him place his hand on her bare shoulder and they saw her blush.
But Melbourne and Victoria did not realise that they were being observed. They were in a world of their own.