“Have you seenFaye this morning?” she asked her maid.
“Nay, M’Lady.”
“Odd,” Amelia murmured. When she was finished dressing, she set about searching for her dog.
Some time later, Grahame informed her that the kitchen staff had let Faye out in the wee hours of the morning, but they had been too busy to take note that Faye still hadn’t returned hours later.
Amelia continued to wander, hoping that maybe a maid or footman had let her in and thought nothing of it. Besides, there were nearly infinite nooks and rooms for a dog to explore both within and outside the castle. She could be anywhere.
Dorian stumbled across her during her search and could tell without a second’s hesitation that something was wrong.
“Faye is missing,” she explained hurriedly in response to his inquiry. She’d managed to maintain her composure until she encountered Dorian’s worried expression. She pressed a trembling hand to her forehead. “I feel awful. Faye seemed a bit sleepy and listless this morning, but she requested to be let out as usual. I thought she was just tired. I hope nothing has happened—”
Dorian enfolded her in his arms as tightly as he could without harming her. It seemed to be precisely what Ameliarequired, because she released a tremulous sigh and returned his embrace.
“I will immediately join the search for her. We will find her, not to worry,” he reassured her. Amelia smiled wobbly up at him, and he pressed a quick kiss to her temple. “Likely she’s wandered off on the trail of some animal.”
It was not like Faye to do such a thing, but she did not voice her skepticism. Instead, Amelia nodded in agreement. “I will continue searching the castle. Others are roaming the grounds; perhaps you might assist them?”
When Dorian strodeout into the courtyard, he found several servants wandering about, checking behind barrels and beneath wagons, calling out Faye’s name in their thick Scottish brogues.
“Faye! Come ’er, lass!” A chorus of similar calls was echoing throughout the keep’s fortified walls.
Deciding to widen the search, Dorian went to the stables and found them devoid of hands—all likely out searching as well. He went to the warm, dry tack room, inhaling the rich scent of leather, oil, pine, hay, and horse. Locating Maximus’s saddle, he took a few steps into the room before he noticed the great heap curled in a ball in the corner, and realized his search was over before it had truly begun.
“There you are! You’ve had Amelia quite upset, you naughty dog.”
Faye watched him with sad, rheumy eyes, and his smile quickly dissipated. Something was wrong. He’d never seen her in such a state before. She did not lift her head or offer him a grumpy grumble, even when he approached her and held out a tentative hand. Her breathing was infrequent and labored. Carefully, Dorian lifted her heavy head and set it in his lap, heedless of the tack oil or hay he’d later find on his clothing. He recognized what Faye had done because his childhood dog haddone the same: She’d come to this place to die, peaceful and alone.
The realization shattered him for Amelia’s sake.
There were no stable hands within earshot, and the enclosed room would muffle any cries he uttered. Regardless, he was loath to disrespect the peace Faye had sought out to call for assistance or to have Amelia brought out. Those large amber eyes of hers found his as he stroked her wiry head, gently caressing her limp ears.
“It is alright,” he reassured her softly. “You’ve been a good and loyal companion and protector for Amelia. I will take care of her now; I promise. You can let go. Your watch is done.”
Faye watched him, her eyes gentling as the words left his throat thick with emotion. She tilted her head and sighed one last great breath, relinquishing to him the care of her beloved mistress.
Dorian sat there for many long minutes staring down at the motionless dog in his lap, marveling at how she remained warm even after the spark of life had been extinguished—how quickly she’d gone from being someone to something.
Then, he was forced to consider how best to tell Amelia what had happened.
He felt as if his heart was being carved out with a spoon when he imagined her reaction.
Eventually, he gathered Faye’s body in his arms and cradled her gently as he made his way to the castle. The shocked butler admitted him to the great hall, and his wrinkled, weathered face fell when he saw Faye. Everyone knew how much Amelia loved the dog.
“Lady Coylton is in the parlor with Lady Clara,” said the butler, resigned and already grieving in his own way.
Steeling his nerves, Dorian carried his burden to the indicated room, took a breath, and entered.
Amelia’s elation at the sight of Faye in his arms was quickly followed by the realization that something terrible had happened. She clapped her hand over her mouth and dissolved into great sobs that wracked her body. Dorian gently laid Faye on the rug before catching Amelia and holding her, supporting her. Clara wrapped herself around Amelia’s other side. Through her own tears, she did her best to offer soft words of solace, though both she and Dorian knew they fell on deaf ears. A heart so freshly broken was not receptive to comfort.
It was a long while until Amelia was finished crying. When she slipped from Dorian’s arms, sniffling loudly, her eyes puffy and red, she approached Faye’s body and sat beside her. She stroked her head and whispered into her ear words that Dorian could not hear. Wanting to give her some privacy, he murmured to Clara that he needed her to look after Amelia while he did what had to be done. His sister’s eyes widened slightly when she understood his meaning, but she nodded and promised that she would do so.
News of Faye’s death traveled quickly through the castle staff and, when Dorian requested the necessary tools for digging, they were collected and handed over without question. Several of the men offered to perform the task for him, but Dorian declined. He wanted to do it. He needed to burn off the frustration boring a hole into his chest because he could not protect Amelia from this pain.
It took him longer than it should have, but in the end, he selected a spot outside the castle walls. It was near enough that Amelia could visit when and if she so chose, but it also provided a sense of the freedom Faye had so loved on her runs with her mistress. Dorian liked to think Faye would have approved of the spot beneath the strong oak tree. He stripped off his coat and began to dig, eventually doffing his shirt entirely once thework became too sweaty. The ache in his muscles was a pleasant distraction from the one in his heart.
When he was done, he accepted the sweet ale and toweling brought out to him by one of the footmen, no doubt ordered by the vigilant butler. He was grateful for it. After cleaning up as best he could, he decided to take it upon himself to retrieve Archie and explain what had happened if Amelia had not already done so. It wasn’t precisely his place, but Amelia had already been forced to break the news about James’s death to the boy; at least Dorian could do this much.
