Anne stepped slightly closer, lowering her voice as though the rest of the house might overhear something neither of them was ready to explain. “I do not want you to, and I know you do not want to either.”
That made him pause longer, the answer not coming as quickly as it should have.
“That is the problem.”
He did not elaborate, and Anne did not press him, because the truth of it was already becoming clear in the space between them.
For the first time since Lily’s death, Dorian had something in his life that mattered enough to lose, and now that he had it, every instinct he had built to survive without attachment was beginning to turn against the very thing that made him feel alive again.
Lady Vivian arrived at Ashford Hall two days later with her father under the guise of a polite visit and continued interest in the estate’s racing prospects, though it became clear that she planned to spend the few days she was there trying to learn more about Dorian.
She noticed the change in him within minutes. It was subtle, he thought, but seemingly not to her. He would have been firm with her if not for the fact that he needed her father’s investment.
Later that afternoon, she found him alone in one of the drawing rooms, reviewing correspondence.
“You look different,” she said lightly as she entered without waiting for an invitation.
Dorian did not look up. “If this is about the reports, I have already sent?—”
“It is not about the reports,” she interrupted smoothly, moving further into the room as though she belonged there.
A pause followed, then Dorian set the papers down. “Then what is it about?”
Lady Vivian smiled faintly, studying him.
“It is about her,” she said. “Your little wife.”
Dorian exhaled slowly. “Lady Vivian.”
But she continued as though he had not spoken. “You are not careful anymore. Not in the way you used to be. You are not distant toward her, not in the way you were with everyone else.”
“That is not a problem.”
“It will be.” The certainty in her voice gave him pause.
Dorian’s gaze sharpened slightly. “Explain.”
Lady Vivian stepped closer, stopping just out of reach, calm in a way that suggested she believed she was doing him a kindness.
“She is not like the women you are used to,” she said. “She is not like me or the others you can walk away from without consequence.”
Dorian’s jaw tightened slightly. “I am not walking away from anyone.”
“Not yet,” Lady Vivian emphasized softly. “But you will, or something will happen that makes you think you have to.”
“You are overstepping.”
“And you are underestimating what you are doing to her.”
Dorian said nothing for a moment. Still, Lady Vivian continued as though she were speaking to someone who simply had not yet understood his own situation.
“She is too good for the life you lead. Too hopeful, too certain that people change because they want to, not because theymust.” A faint, almost sympathetic smile touched her mouth. “You and I both know what you are. Scandal follows you. Recklessness follows you. Even when you try to change, it is still there beneath everything.”
Dorian’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You are speaking as though you know me.”
“I do,” she said simply. “Better than she does, at least.”
The words hung in the air longer than either of them acknowledged.
