As she descended the stairs, their mother replied, “He would have told you not to let duty stand in the way of happiness. He understood what it meant to love someone so fiercely that it eclipses everything else.”
Richard exhaled, his resistance faltering. “But my duty?—”
His mother raised a hand and interrupted him. “Is to your heart, Richard. Do something selfish—for once. Choose love, not obligation.”
His voice cracked slightly. “When I look at her… I know. I know I’ve found what the world spends its whole life searching for.”
“Then go,” his mother encouraged. “Go to her and tell her. You hide your feelings well, but I’m your mother. I see more than you think.”
He looked down, guilt washing over him. “But I treated her so poorly. I accused her and humiliated her.”
“Then spend the rest of your life making amends,” she responded. “She’s worth it.”
Olivia stepped forward. “I agree with Mother. If you let her go now, I promise you’ll regret it every day for the rest of your life.”
Richard’s eyes flicked back to the window. “Even if I wanted to go after her, there are countless roads she could have taken. By now, the coach could be halfway to Kent or turned towards the coast?—”
His mother smiled, just the faintest arch of amusement at the corners of her mouth. “This is why I instructed the driver to take the exact same route you took when you collected Dosia. I thought you might come to your senses.”
“That was brilliant,” he remarked.
“And because I know you far too well,” she added, “I also had your horse brought around to the front. You’ll want to ride hard, I imagine.”
He was already moving towards the door. “I won’t waste this.”
As he opened the door, Olivia called after him. “Tell her she made you believe in love again. Tell her you were a fool. And then, for heaven’s sake, don’t mess it up this time.”
He paused. “What if…” he began, his voice lower now, uncertain. “What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if she doesn’t care for me the way I care for her?”
Olivia smirked. “You are a marquess, remember. Don’t ladies fall at your feet to vie for your attention?”
“But Theodosia is different. She had never seemed to care for my title,” he said. “With her, I never know quite where I stand. It is maddening.”
Olivia’s expression grew thoughtful. “Then let her see the man beneath the title. Not the marquess. Just you. Speak to heras a man who has fallen in love—completely, imperfectly, and honestly,” she advised. “That will make all the difference.”
Richard merely nodded, though his mind was already racing. Olivia’s words echoed in his ears, heavy with truth and impossible to ignore. He departed from the townhouse with a purposeful stride. At the bottom of the steps, the groom stood waiting beside his horse, already saddled and restless, as though it sensed its task's urgency.
“Thank you,” Richard said, grasping the reins. With practiced ease, he mounted his horse and adjusted his grip.
Then he urged the horse forward, heels pressing firmly into its sides.
As they turned onto the main road, his thoughts spun with words he might say—I was wrong. Forgive me. I never should have doubted you. I never should have let you go.
But nothing sounded worthy enough. Nothing could undo what he had said or how he had made her feel.
And still, he had to try.
He had given speeches in Parliament, but this… this would be the most important speech of his life.
Because this one might mean the difference between winning back the woman he loved—or losing her forever.
Theodosia sat in the coach, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, though they trembled despite her best efforts to still them. A solitary tear traced a slow, silent path down her cheek, and she made no effort to brush it away. Now that she was finally alone, she was allowing herself to cry.
This was the right choice. It had to be. She told herself that returning to her village, to the quiet rhythm of estate life,would bring her peace. It was all she had ever aspired to. A safe, orderly existence. Predictable. Respectable.
But she was no longer the same woman who had arrived in London. That woman had been content with obscurity and responsibility. This one—this broken, heartsick version—had tasted something far more dangerous.
Love.
