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Her gut sank.

A knock sounded on her door, and her attention flew to it. It wasn’t Rafe. She wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she knew.

She hesitantly walked over and slowly opened the door.

And gasped. “Abigail!” And in the next moment she was in the woman’s arms, doing everything in her power to not start bawling like a babe.

“Shhh,” Abigail crooned. “Easy, dear. Everything is going to be well.”

“I-I know.” Theo squeezed her tighter. “I swear, it’s like my entire world has turned upside down. I am never like this.” She pulled back and tried to compose herself. Latching onto a duchess? Calling her by her Christian name? Her cheeks heated. All propriety had apparently fled her person.

“My apologies,” she mumbled as they moved into Theo’s chamber.

Her Grace pulled her back into a tight hug. “Nothing to apologize for. You are family, Theodora. You know I don’t give a bloody fig for decorum.”

Theodora pulled back, each of them holding the other’s forearms. She arched a brow. “Cursing, Your Grace?”

Abigail’s smile was small and tired. “I think the past sennight has warranted a curse or two.”

“What are you doing here?” She was still whirling. She couldn’t believe Abigail was here. Seeing Abigail, a familiar face—family—the relief almost had her sinking to the floor.

“The morning after you left, we received a second letter from the dowager reporting His Grace had awoken. It would appear he came to shortly after she’d posted the first letter. Sebastian went to inform you and found you gone. We departed straight away.” Her brows drew together, her lips pinching. “You should have informed me you were going to London,” she scolded. “We could have all traveled together. You should not have journeyed on your own in the state you were in. Not to mention a woman traveling alone is dangerous enough as it is.”

Theo opened her mouth to argue, but Abigail cut her off.

“You are very capable, Theodora. But that doesn’t make you immune to danger. There is such a thing as too stubborn. If you’d informed us of your plans, then perhaps you wouldn’t have had to draw a pistol on the Ironcrest staff.”

Theo wrinkled her nose. “You heard about that, did you?”

“Everyone has heard about it, darling.”

Bloody lovely.

“Sebastian loved it.”

That pulled a smile from her. One that instantly froze. Theo’s heart twisted. “How is Bash?” she whispered.

“I imagine the same as you. Exhausted. And feeling about every emotion under the sun. He’s working up the courage to see Raphael. He goes from furious to so overwhelmed by relief so often he can barely hold himself together.”

Theo could relate.

“Sebastian told me Raphael asked you to marry him,” Abigail said softly.

“Did he now?”

Their attention flew to the doorway of Theo’s chamber where the dowager stood. The dowager’s gaze flicked to where Theo and Abigail were embracing, and her eyes sharpened.

Theo hurried to separate herself from Abigail and bowed low. “Your Grace.”

The dowager studied her, her stare sweeping down Theo’s trouser-clad form. Theo barely managed not to shift on her feet. Even though the woman was inches shorter than Theo, she still somehow managed to stare down at her.

“Well, what are you waiting for, Miss Dawson? Invite me in.”

Theo’s mouth worked. “I—of course, Your Grace. Please do come in.”

Abigail sent Theo a smirk, then glided over to the small seating area in the chamber.

The dowager settled herself in one of the two armchairs, Abigail in the other. Theo stood awkwardly, chest tight.