For a long moment, she said nothing, eyes fixed on the floor as she gathered her courage. When she finally spoke, her voice was low but certain.
“I don’t know if I can have both, not without breaking something else. For now, my peace will have to come from making sure that his is kept.”
The quiet stretched between them, the distant ticking of a clock in the hall marking the slow, steady passage of time.
The heavy oak door creaked open, and the physician stepped out, his face grave but composed. He glanced briefly at Dorothy and Lucy before speaking in a measured tone.
“We must move the Viscount to his bedchamber immediately. He requires rest in a quieter, more comfortable setting.”
The butler immediately acknowledged and rushed to find the household staff.
The physician turned to her then and shook his head. “Miss Lockhart, your father is showing clear signs of extreme stress and exhaustion. His constitution has weakened considerably.”
Dorothy’s voice trembled slightly. “Is he in grave danger, sir?”
The physician shook his head gently. “Not at this moment, but without proper rest and nourishment, his condition may worsen. It is imperative he is moved to his bedchamber where he can recover in quiet and comfort.”
Dorothy bit her lip, trying to hold back her worry. “What else can be done, doctor? Is there anything more I should do for him?”
He offered a faint smile. “Ensure he takes proper meals, remains hydrated, and, above all, keep his environment free from distress. The mind and body are closely linked, Miss Lockhart. His recovery depends as much on peace of mind as on any medicine I can provide.”
Dorothy nodded, grateful for the guidance. “I will see to it. Thank you, sir.”
The physician inclined his head once. “Good. Now, I must return to his side. I still want to watch his condition for a few more hours.”
As the door began to close behind him, Dorothy called softly, “Doctor, do you think… the stress could be from rumors he may have heard? Could that maybe... cause this?”
He paused, glancing back briefly. “It is very possible. Emotional strain often affects the body in ways one does not immediately perceive.”
With that, the door shut, leaving Dorothy clutching her hands together.
Lucy’s hand found Dorothy’s, gentle but firm, grounding her in the storm of her thoughts. “Let your father rest for today, Dorothy,” she said softly.
Dorothy nodded. “You’re right,” she sniffed. “I probably should also just accept this.”
Lucy shook her head. “That I do not agree to. What if the wedding itself becomes a source of unhappiness? What if that weighs on your papa just as much as the rumors have? It would be the same outcome. He would blame himself for your unhappiness.”
“Then what must I do?”
Lucy’s gaze held hers steadily. “You must speak to him, calmly, clearly. Let him see where you stand. If your heart is not in this marriage, he deserves to know.”
A sigh escaped Dorothy’s lips, mingled with a fragile hope. “You think it will make a difference?”
Lucy smiled, though the warmth in her eyes was tempered by realism. “It may not change everything overnight, but honesty can ease the weight between you. It may help your father find peace in knowing you are true, not merely resigned.”
Dorothy squeezed Lucy’s hand in gratitude, feeling the first faint stirrings of courage in her chest. “Thank you, Lucy. I will try. What other choice do I have?”
Slowly, the tension in her chest loosened just a fraction. For now, she would watch over Howard and prepare herself for the conversation to come.
CHAPTER THREE
“Dorothy Lockhart, you cannot possibly climb over that wall in a wedding dress!” Lucy’s voice was sharp, eyes fixed on the towering fence before them, the wooden trellis tangled thick with thorny roses nearly eight feet high. “It’s your wedding day!”
“Yes, I can.” Dorothy nodded, her breath coming a little faster, and her heart pounding against the confines of her corset. “Besides, technically, it’s not a wall. It’s a garden fence.”
Lucy glanced sideways at her cousin, incredulous. “A garden fence that’s covered in roses with thorns sharp enough to peel paint, and you, dressed like a walking silk disaster, believe you’ll scramble over that and come out unscathed?”
Dorothy’s lips trembled, but her eyes were fierce. “It’s not about coming out unscathed. It’s about escaping before Papa catches me. I can’t use the front door; there are half a dozen gentlemen stationed there, and Lord Hensley’s carriage waits like a trap.The side door is swarming with servants who’d squeal faster than you can blink. The servants’ exit is locked tight, and the stable gate is guarded.”
