“I just…” She pressed her fingertips to her temple, her other hand gripping the back of the chair. “I just need a moment.”
The aching in her limbs had worsened—deep, pulsing aches that settled in her shoulders and lower back. And her stomach had begun to churn, the nausea rising with disconcerting swiftness.
She sank back into her chair as the room slowly righted itself. Her hands trembled slightly in her lap.
“I feel… unwell,” she admitted. “Like I’ve taken ill.”
Lady Sarah moved closer and touched her shoulder. “You’re pale as a sheet. Arabella, go fetch someone—now.”
As Arabella rushed towards the door, Dorothea leaned back into the settee and let her body sink into the cushions. Her limbs ached, her head throbbed, and her stomach twisted in protest. But it was none of those things that truly unsettled her.
It was the thought ofhim.
If Dominic came…
She closed her eyes.
She did not want his pity. Not his sudden, hollow attempts at comfort when he had already made it so devastatingly clear that he wanted nothing to do with her.
Let it be anyone but him,she pleaded silently. A maid. Or even the footman who had witnessed her fall from the horse.
But not Dominic.
Dominic sat at his desk, a quill poised above an open ledger, when a sharp, panicked cry pierced the stillness of the study.
“Help! Someone—please!”
The voice was female—urgent, unmistakably distressed.
He was on his feet in an instant, the chair scraping loudly against the wood floor as he bolted into the corridor. As he reached the entry hall, he spotted Mrs. Haverleigh standing with Wright, her gloved hands fluttering as she gestured wildly towards the drawing room.
His chest tightened. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.
Mrs. Haverleigh turned to him. “It’s Dorothea,” she said breathlessly. “She’s taken ill rather suddenly.”
He didn’t wait to hear more.
Dominic pushed past them and strode into the drawing room, his heart pounding. The sight that met him made him falter.
Dorothea was slumped back on the settee, her eyes closed, and her skin flushed unnaturally beneath the morning light. Her hands lay limp in her lap, and her breathing seemed shallow. A white-haired woman stood nearby, her face taut with concern.
“Dorothea,” he said as he crossed the room in swift strides. He crouched down in front of her. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
Her eyes fluttered open, and the moment she saw him, her eyes flashed with annoyance. “Go away,” she said flatly.
“No,” he replied, unperturbed. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“I told you?—”
“I heard you. But I’m not leaving.”
From behind him, the woman answered his earlier question. “She nearly fainted when she stood. Said she felt lightheaded and ill.”
“It’s nothing,” Dorothea insisted, attempting to sit up straighter. “I just need a moment.”
Dominic turned towards the door and ordered, “Send for the doctor. Immediately.”
“That isn’t necessary—” Dorothea began, but her protest was cut off by a sharp gasp as Dominic leaned forward and swept her into his arms.
