Dorothy bristled. “I have not treated it as a toy. I have only?—”
“You have only?” he cut in sharply. “Only? You took it upon yourself to set a scandal in motion that could very well ruin you entirely. Tell me, did it never occur to you to start any other rumor? One that might inconvenience but not destroy?”
“I could not invent something harmless. You would never have believed it,” she shot back.
His brows snapped together. “So you chose instead the most damning tale you could contrive? That an infamous duke ruined you? One that would follow you into every drawing room, every invitation list, every whisper?”
Dorothy’s eyes flashed. “I was left with no choice. You were so insistent... so determined to marry me off without a thought for my wishes. I could only take a step that you and Lord Hensley could not ignore.”
“You call this a step?” His tone was incredulous. “It is not a step, Dorothy, it is a leap into the abyss. Did you comprehend that in society, a lady’s reputation is her entire currency?”
Howard began to pace. Then he stopped and laughed dryly. “It was a stupid plan, Dorothy. Now that I think on it, how in Heaven’s name did you imagine such a rumor would hold water? The Duke of Walford is a recluse. A veritable phantom. Half of London doubts he even resides in the country. For you to have seen him, let alone to be ruined by him, you must have worked some miracle.”
Her chin tilted upward. “I only needed them to believe it for a short while, long enough to dissuade Lord Hensley. People were going to make sense of it in the end and realize the absurdity of the rumor.”
He gave a mirthless laugh. “Believe it? No one has set eyes on the man in years. Not even I have. For you to have found him, he would have had to come to you like some specter at midnight, and the world does not believe in specters.”
“Well, I had no choice!” she burst out. “You were insistent, Papa, relentlessly so. Every day, it was Hensley this and Hensley that until I felt cornered. What was I to do? Sit meekly and await my fate?”
“You were to use your head!” he thundered. “I know Hensley, and I only made this match because I can vouch for Hensley.”
“No, Papa, you only made this match because you want to marry me off quickly,” she countered.
She clenched her fists at her sides. “You think me witless, but I acted out of desperation. I could not marry Hensley. I will not. If society thinks me mad for claiming a phantom duke sought to ruin me, then so be it. At least I will not be shackled to a man I cannot bear.”
Howard gave a short, incredulous laugh and shook his head. “Well, thankfully, Lord Hensley did not buy into your silly little scheme. The wedding will move forward as planned.” His eyes fixed on her, sharp with both relief and reprimand. “You should be very glad, Dorothy, that Hensley is a friend of the family; otherwise, you might have found yourself not only without a husband but also without a shred of standing in society.”
Dorothy’s lips parted in protest. “Papa, but?—”
“No ‘but’,” he cut her off, his tone brooking no argument. “This could have ended in disaster for you, and frankly, I am still astonished it did not. You will marry Lord Hensley, and you would do well to come to terms with it.”
Howard gave another dry scoff. “You are fortunate your brother is not here. He would have challenged the Duke of Walford to a duel over this. A duel! Just because you recklessly decided to blacken a man’s name for your own convenience.”
She stared at him, her chin tilting upwards despite the sting of his words. With that, Howard swept out of the room, thedoor closing with a decisive thud that left the room feeling uncomfortably still.
For a moment, Dorothy remained standing, her hands balled into fists at her sides. Then, with a sharp exhale, she sank onto the edge of her bed. Her gaze drifted to the small writing desk by the window, and a spark of resolve lit in her eyes.
Howard might think the matter settled. Lord Hensley might think her compliant. But Dorothy had never been one to concede defeat at the first- or second—hurdle. She reached for a sheet of paper, already composing in her mind a summons for Lucy to come at once, bringing all her daring and resourcefulness. Together, they would think of something bold enough to unravel this wretched arrangement.
“Miss!” Martha’s voice shattered the quiet as she came rushing into the garden where Dorothy was lingering near the roses. Her face was pale, and her eyes wide with alarm. “Lord Lockhart... he... he’s slumped over in his chair!”
Dorothy’s breath caught. For a moment, she stood frozen as her mind struggled to accept the meaning of Martha, her maid’s words. Slumped? Her father?
She took a shaky step forward. “Where? Show me.”
Without waiting, Martha raced back through where she came, and Dorothy followed closely. Her thoughts tumbled in a frantic rush. Knowing how frail her father’s health was, she couldn’t help but panic. He had not slumped in months.
By the time they reached the study, her heart was pounding so fiercely she feared it might burst. The heavy door was ajar, and she hurried inside. Just like Martha had said, Howard was leaning lifeless in his armchair, his face pale and drawn.
“Papa!” she shrieked, dropping to her knees beside him, shaking his shoulder gently. “Speak to me, please!”
There was no answer. Her fingers trembled as she pressed a hand to his forehead, which felt cold as marble. “Martha!” she called, her voice cracking. “Run at once and fetch the physician! Do not delay!”
Dorothy stayed rooted beside her father, heart sinking with each silent second. The butler hurried in as well, carrying a basin of cool water, hoping to rouse him. Despite their efforts, he remained motionless, his pale face betraying no sign of awakening. Panic welled inside Dorothy, constricting her chest like a vise. Her mind swirled with frantic thoughts. Her brother, Phillip, was currently on a grand tour, far from London, and her sisters were nestled in their husbands’ estates, far beyond her reach. She was utterly alone in the house.
Just that very morning, they had spoken, even argued briefly about the scandal, and he had seemed well, if more irritable than usual. How could this sudden collapse have happened? The fearclawed at her, and she felt helpless, unable to fathom what ailed her father or what she should do next.
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she forced herself to stay upright, biting her lip to hold back the sobs. She could not fall apart now. Not when her father lay so vulnerable before her. Minutes stretched unbearably until the physician arrived, a stern man who quickly assessed the Viscount’s condition.
