Dorothea’s shoulders slumped. “It feels impossible.”
Lady Sarah offered her a warm smile. “Sometimes the greatest trials come just before something beautiful.”
Arabella leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Are you quite certain you didn’t do something to offend him?”
Lady Sarah rolled her eyes. “Perhaps you should wait in the entry hall until you’ve remembered how to behave like a friend.”
At that moment, a footman stepped into the room carrying a gleaming tea service. Dorothea recognized him—he had been present the morning of the riding accident. He moved with practiced grace and placed the tray down on the table.
“Will there be anything else, my lady?” he asked, straightening.
“No, thank you,” Dorothea acknowledged.
Lady Sarah gave Arabella a meaningful nudge. “Do pour the tea, dear.”
“But I’m the guest,” Arabella argued.
“Yes, and we are here to comfort Dorothea,not you,” Lady Sarah replied firmly.
With a dramatic sigh, Arabella lifted the teapot and poured three cups. Lady Sarah took one and handed it to Dorothea with great care.
“There you are,” she said. “This will help calm your nerves.”
Dorothea accepted the teacup and lowered her gaze, unsure if she wanted to sip or weep. She didn’t want tea. She wanted to not feel so utterly unwanted.
But then Lady Sarah offered, “Don’t give up hope yet.”
And for one fragile, flickering moment… Dorothea almost believed her.
Dorothea brought the teacup to her lips. The warmth seeped into her hands first, then spread through her chest as she swallowed. It was soothing, but it did little to temper the storm within her. Her heart still ached, raw and sore, as if bruised from the inside. The tea couldn’t reach that place.
Lady Sarah watched her over the rim of her own cup, her expression kind. “So… do you intend to move back home?”
Home.
The word landed with unexpected weight. Dorothea’s gaze drifted across the drawing room. This place had begun to feel familiar, but it wasn’t truly hers. And yet… the alternative made her stomach twist.
She could not return to her brother’s house. The very thought of it filled her with dread.
Setting the teacup back into its saucer with careful deliberation, she said, “I have not yet decided what I shall do.”
“You have time to make that decision,” Lady Sarah said. “But know that you are always welcome with us.”
Arabella interjected, “But our townhouse is already rather crowded, is it not? I don’t believe there’s any proper room left for Dorothea.”
Lady Sarah’s smile thinned. “We will make the room.”
Arabella pursed her lips. “Her room is being used as storage for my gowns. I’ve nowhere else to keep them.”
“We must all make sacrifices for the sake of family, dear,” Lady Sarah replied, her voice edged with a quiet sharpness.
Arabella crossed her arms with a huff. “Why must I make all the sacrifices?” she muttered.
Lady Sarah slowly rose from the settee, steadying herself with her cane. “And on that note, I believe it’s time we took our leave.”
Dorothea stood as well, though as she pushed herself to her feet, a strange wave of dizziness swept over her. Her vision blurred at the edges, and the room seemed to tip slightly beneath her. She raised a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes, willing the sensation to pass.
“Dorothea?” Lady Sarah asked, her voice ripe with concern. “Are you all right?”
