Dorothy nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Thank you, Papa. I hope you recover soon. You must get better.” Her voice was gentle but resolute. “If you need anything, please, write to me.”
He gave a curt nod, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he turned away.
Dorothy lifted her chin and stepped forward. Her gaze immediately found Magnus, standing tall beside the polished black carriage, the morning sun catching the sharp lines of his face. He didn’t look away as she approached. Instead, his eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her breath seize.
Each step she took toward him echoed in her mind like the slow, deliberate march down the aisle she’d just endured. But this moment felt different, charged with something intense, something both unsettling and magnetic.
Magnus’s presence was almost like a silent command. It was the only way she could put it. The only explanation that made sense. His eyes held hers like a challenge, daring her to meet whatever was simmering beneath that calm, controlled exterior. The space between them seemed to pulse with tension, as if the air itself were waiting for one of them to break the silence.
Dorothy’s heart hammered fiercely, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she met his gaze head-on, feeling the heat of his stare burn through her skin. A flicker of something crossed his features. It was subtle but unmistakable. It felt almost as if he was intentionally challenging her to meet his gaze.
For a moment, they simply stood there once she reached the carriage. Magnus’s hand moved deliberately to the door handle, opening it with a smoothness that contrasted the tension hanging thick between them. But Dorothy didn’t move to step inside right away. Instead, she stood frozen, her gaze fixed on the plush seat within, her thoughts swirling.
“How was the wedding?”
Dorothy turned slowly to face him, disbelief softening her features. “You’re asking me how the wedding was?”
He nodded. “Yes. How was the wedding?”
She hesitated a beat, then exhaled softly. “It wasn’t at all like I expected.” Her lips curved in a faint, reluctant smile. “But… it was a beautiful wedding, I have to admit. The chapel... was stunning. Somehow, the warmth of the place, the way the light filtered through the glass... soothed me. It felt welcoming in its own way.”
Magnus’s gaze lingered on her, as if storing every word, every subtle change in her expression. “Good,” he murmured. “Have you said goodbye to your family?”
“Yes.” She lowered her head and nodded.
“Because you know you won’t be seeing them for a long time. Northern England is days away.”
At those words, every iota of composure Dorothy had carefully maintained shattered. Her breath caught sharply, heart pounding as a sudden, sharp panic gripped her.
Days away?
Farther than she had truly allowed herself to imagine. This was the first time she would be so utterly separated from everything familiar. From her sisters, her father, and the home she’d always known.
Her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the edge of the carriage door, a storm raging behind her eyes. The distance wasn’t just measured in miles but in the stretch of loneliness and uncertainty that yawned before her like an endless night.
“Don’t cry, Dorothy.”
She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as she could muster. “I wasn’t planning to. I wasn’t going to cry.”
But then he said, almost like he knew her better than she knew herself, “Yes, you are. You’re about to cry.”
Her eyes dropped away from his, the truth settling deep within her. She hated that he was right. She hated feeling this fragile on what was supposed to be a day of strength.
“It’s all right...” His voice softened. “... to cry sometimes. I never cry, so I can’t give you much advice but... it’s your wedding day. It wouldn’t look right now, would it? Also, I reckon?—”
Dorothy’s breath caught as Magnus spoke. Yet before he could finish, she reached out almost instinctively. Her fingers found his hand. His arm had been just out of reach, but his hand hovered close enough, and she grasped it firmly.
She was holding onto the carriage door with one hand, seeking something solid beneath her trembling, but her other hand found refuge in his. She squeezed tightly, knowing she was gripping him harder than necessary, but in that moment, she didn’t care. It was a lifeline, a tether to something steady amid the swirling emotions.
She drew in a slow, steadying breath, grounding herself with the strength she found in his touch. Then, with her resolve back in her mind, she gently released his hand, turned away, and stepped into the carriage.
The door closed softly behind her, leaving the lingering warmth of his touch behind.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“We have arrived.”
Magnus’s voice cut through the rumble of the carriage wheels as the vast outline of Walford Manor rose into view. After days of travel, the carriage at last slowed upon the long gravel drive, its wheels crunching steadily. The journey had been unrelenting… mile upon mile of shifting countryside, endless hours enclosed within the rattling conveyance, and only the briefest pauses for rest. Fatigue clung to Dorothy’s limbs, but it was her heart that felt most burdened as the pale stone walls of her new home revealed themselves against the waning light.
