Magnus pushed open Eugenia’s door, the soft creak of the hinges announcing his presence. He found her sitting on the edge of her bed, her small hands clasped together in her lap, eyes downcast. Kneeling beside her, he brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and spoke softly. “I am sorry, Eugenia,” he said. “The days flew by. I’ve been distant… lost in my own thoughts. I should have been here with you. For that, I am truly sorry.”
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Everything will be all right in the end, I promise. For now, it’s all right to feel sad. You can feel whatever you need to, but know that I am here, even if I haven’t been as present as I should.”
Eugenia’s eyes lifted to meet his as Magnus continued, trying to keep his own heart in check. “I thought… perhaps we might go to London for a few days. A change of scenery, some fresh air. We can shop, see things, perhaps even enjoy a little adventure together. Would you like that?”
A smile slowly bloomed on her face. “Will Dorothy be there?” she asked curiously.
Magnus’s smile waned. “She will. You might get to see her,” he agreed with a smile. “I am sure she misses you a lot.”
“Then, yes,” she said softly, her small voice full of hope. “I would like that very much.”
Magnus rose and straightened, feeling a flicker of satisfaction at her joy. Yet, as he tried to convince himself that the journey was for her, that the change of scenery was for her happiness,the truth lingered in his mind. It was, in some small, undeniable way, for him as well. He was still angry with Dorothy, still hurt by her absence, yet beneath that anger stirred the simple, unyielding desire to see her, to be near her, even if only for a fleeting moment.
For now, he would focus on Eugenia, on ensuring her happiness, but he knew that the eclipse of Dorothy’s presence was never far from his thoughts.
Days Later...
“You still have not told anyone why you needed to come to London, Dorothy.”
Dorothy sighed, walking along the gravel path of the city’s streets with her sisters flanking her. The crisp morning air did little to ease the tightness in her chest, nor the growing sense of frustration that had been simmering ever since she arrived in the city. Her father’s questioning had come daily at first, his concern wrapped tightly in worry that bordered on suspicion. Phillip, ever insistent, peppered her with questions, not because he expected an answer but because he enjoyed the discomfort it caused her. Now her sisters—Emma and Cecilia—had joined in, their curiosity cutting through the fog of her own tangled emotions.
She couldn’t tell them. There was no explanation.
“We’re your sisters,” Cecilia added. “You don’t have to carry whatever it is alone.”
Dorothy’s steps faltered, and she stopped beneath the shade of a sprawling elm. She looked at the two women she had grown up alongside, the women who had always been her confidantes, and she felt the walls she had so carefully constructed start to crumble. Her voice came low, almost a whisper.
“I… love him,” she admitted, the words tasting like both relief and fear on her tongue. “But I feel so much like Clytie. How ironic is it that I have gone from being a wallflower to a sunflower?”
Emma and Cecilia exchanged confused looks. “Clytie?” Emma asked.
“Sunflower?” Cecilia asked too. “Like... the story of Helios? Is that what you’re talking about?”
“Never mind,” Dorothy said, resuming their walk along the road. “I love Magnus with all my heart, all right? I admit it.”
Ever since she had arrived at her father’s house, Dorothy had convinced herself that her departure was borne of frustration, that she needed distance to cool her temper and reclaim her composure. Yet the truth had begun to reveal itself with quiet, insistent persistence. All she wanted was to be back at the manor, to see Magnus, to hear Eugenia’s laughter echo through the halls, to return to the rhythm of their days that had once felt so right.
Each night, as she lay in her bed, images of Magnus haunted her thoughts. The warmth of his arms, the intensity of their kiss, the gentle teasing that had made her heart flutter—and with a sinking clarity, she realized she had fallen utterly, irrevocably in love with him.
“But he doesn’t love me back. I cannot have his heart, no matter how much I wish I could.”
Emma and Cecilia exchanged a glance. Emma stepped closer, taking Dorothy’s hand in hers, but Dorothy gently pulled away. She had expected pity, perhaps even judgment, and instead felt a pang of sorrow for the harsh clarity of her own confession.
Dorothy’s voice trembled as she confessed to her sisters, the words spilling out in a rush she could no longer contain. “You once asked me why I wanted to remain a spinster all my life, why I refused to marry,” she began, looking at Emma and Cecilia with wide, earnest eyes. “The truth is, I’ve always been afraid of failing. I never wanted to be a shadow of what you’ve become. I did not think I could live up to you both, and now… now it feels as though my fear is coming to pass. I’ve ruined everything.”
Before she could take another step, Emma grabbed her arm, pulling her into a quieter, less crowded alleyway. Cecilia quickly moved to stand in front of her, framing her between them like she had when they were children in mischief. “Never say that,” Emma said firmly, her voice steady but filled with care. “Never go outside believing that.”
Cecilia’s hands rested gently on Dorothy’s shoulders. “It’s all right to have that fear,” she admitted softly. “We had it, too, when we married. Every marriage has obstacles, every single one. Perhaps you are not ready to speak of what weighs on you, and that’s all right. You don’t have to talk about it yet.”
Emma squeezed her hand. “But know this, Dorothy. You have us. No matter the outcome, no matter what happens, we will make sure our little sister ends up happy. Even as a married woman, you are still our responsibility, and we will carry that with all our hearts.”
Dorothy’s chest tightened at their words, a warmth blooming through her fear. “What do I do with all this love when he doesn’t feel the same for me? I can never have his heart. Not truly. I am just a companion to him. Not really a wife.”
Emma stepped closer, gripping Dorothy’s shoulders. “Dorothy, listen to us. Until he declares it with his mouth, you should never believe that he feels nothing for you. You know who you are. You are outspoken, caring, and full of love. Any man who cannot see that is a fool, a blind fool.”
Cecilia nodded. “And if the Duke fails to see it, we will make him. We will make him understand because you, Dorothy, deserve all the happiness in the world. Never doubt your worth for a single moment.”
“You are the Lockhart sisters, aren’t you?” A gentleman, sharp-eyed and brimming with impatience, stepped into their path, hisgaze fixed upon them with unnerving intensity. “Your brother, Phillip, where is he? You will tell me now.”
