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“There is something I must tell you, Rose, that I did not dare to tell you before,” he continued, taking a swig of whiskey for courage. “At ten-and-eight, I… brought shame upon myself and a… Goodness, why is this so hard?” He took another gulp. “I brought shame on myself and a young lady whom I cared for very much. Since then, and after what occurred because of it, I have carried the guilt of it within me. In a way, I convinced myself that I somehow manifested bad luck because of who I was, and what I had done, and the misery I caused. I thought I was being punished.”
He stopped, imagining Rose calling him a fool for thinking such things. She was far more logical than him and had suffered through her own hardships without blaming an unseen force for it. Still, he had to be honest with his thoughts while she was unable to retort.
“Before you call me foolish,” he went on, “you must look at the evidence. My mother, father, and infant sister all died after that event, among others, yet I was left to endure the aftermath alone. Does that not sound like divine punishment?”
He paused to take another deep swig of whiskey. “I went to war in the hopes that I would die there, and free everyone of my unworthy existence. Instead, my cavalry regiment was obliterated by Napoleon’s men one fateful autumn day. All but myself and Hudson. I moved onto other regiments, but I never stayed with one too long, lest they suffer the same fate. You cannot know how many times I wished a musket shot or a cannon would obliterate me, in place of all those who died because I brought my misfortune and my punishment with me.
“I promised Hudson I would no longer think this way, and I was determined not to, but then… I have been having nightmares, my doe, and I think I understand what they are trying to tell me.” He swallowed another mouthful of the harsh whiskey. “Every night, I run after you, trying to save you. Every night, I call out to you and make you stop. Every night, it is the blade I am holding that ends up killing you. But what if I were to let you keep running. What if I were to… let you go instead of selfishly trying to keep you with me, then perhaps you would be safe?”
Rose stirred in her sleep, her eyelids flickering. Dorian froze, terrified that she might awaken while he was revealing this to her, words he would not have been able to say to her if she were able to listen.
A few moments later, she settled back into her feverish slumber, giving him his cue to carry on. “I do not want a life without you. Indeed, I can think of nothing worse, for you have been my blessing and my light and my hope. But I cannot take yours in exchange. I love you too much for that.” His breath hitched, tears welling in his eyes. “I think I have to listen to the dream, my doe. I think I have to let you go if I really want to protect you.”
“If you would… listen to a dream instead of… me, then you are… a fool, Dorian,” Rose breathed, her eyes fluttering open.
Dorian reeled back in shock. “Rose? How are… Did you… You were supposed to be asleep!”
“You wouldn’t come to… me any other way,” she replied, her voice unsteady. “I heard the footman… talking to… Mrs. Whittaker earlier today, and I knew… I had to trick them in order to… speak to you. I didn’t swallow… her sleeping tonic. I couldn’t, and now I’m glad… I didn’t, or you might’ve left me without me ever having a chance to… see you again.”
He tried to hide the bottle of whiskey, appalled by himself, but he knew she had already seen it. He could see the concern and despair in her face as she pushed herself up into a sitting position and clung onto the hand that remained in hers.
“What’s happened to you, Dorian? What’ve you done to yourself?”
* * *
Rose could hardly believe that Dorian was the same man, for he looked so ashen and haggard, with a dusting of stubble across his jaw, and his hair unwashed. His mismatched eyes were shot through with thread veins of red, and she could smell the stale aroma of whiskey on his breath, despite his distance from her. He had become a ghost of himself, all the joy and spirit gone from his gaze, leaving only sadness and struggle.
“How much did you hear?” he said stiffly, like a small child who had been caught stealing tarts from the kitchens.
Rose sighed. “I heard enough, Dorian. I know you’ll think me deceitful, but what else was I supposed to do? I kept asking for you, but you wouldn’t come. Even Lord Bentley has visited me, and he said he would try and get you to see sense, but you wouldn’t.”
“You have been conspiring behind my back?” Dorian’s mouth set in a grim line that Rose did not like, for she had seen it before, in her father.
“We haven’t conspired; we’ve shared our worries,” Rose replied curtly. “I know you’re only saying that because of the whiskey you’ve imbibed. It used to make my father falsely suspicious, too.”
Now, I understand why he hasn’t been to see me. But I won’t let you do that, Dorian. I won’t let you punish yourself any longer for something you did over a decade ago, no matter what that may be.He had not been explicit with the details, but she could hazard a guess as to the incident. She drew air into her lungs, trying to shake off the encroaching dizziness that had been troubling her since she awoke in Langston House, after fully believing she had died in the meadow.
“I drink it to sleep, that is all.” Dorian hung his head.
“And yet, you have these nightmares that you spoke of?”
Dorian nodded. “You die every time, and I cannot stop it.”
“That’s only because you couldn’t stop the rider, Dorian. It doesn’t mean anything other than that,” Rose urged. “It’s not telling you to let me go. You could just as easily believe it was telling you to run faster toward me.”
Dorian’s head lifted slowly: his eyes eerily blank. “Be that as it may, I have decided that I intend to break off our engagement. I cannot risk being right about the dream and having your safety at risk once more.” He balled his hands into fists. “Hudson and I were unable to find information regarding the culprit, and so the danger has not passed. I am sorry, Rose, but—” She cut him off before he could finish.
“I am the one in potential danger, so I should be the one to decide what risks I’m willing to take. I had a knife in my leg, and it hasn’t changed my feelings toward you. It hasn’t made me want to run in the opposite direction,” she said, fueled by her own desire not to lose him. “I love you, Dorian. I will face any rider, any blade, any danger, for the sake of that because love does not come around very often for people like you and me.”
Please, don’t let your fear get in the way of us…She held her nerve, praying that she was managing to break through the walls he had put up around himself again.
“Well… then I am sorry to say that you were mistaken about my intentions, Rose.” Dorian would not look at her. “I… do not love you, as you love me. You read that letter, did you not? I am not to be trusted. You should never have put your faith in me. I… never intended to marry you. It is merely a game that Hudson and I like to play, to see how far we may take it. You were nothing more than a mistress to me: a plaything, to pass my time. Even then, you were not a particularly forthcoming mistress, and I have grown tired of the chase, now.” He got up to leave, stepping away from her.
Although stung by his words, she refused to believe them.
“You forget, I heard everything you said when you thought I was asleep.” Rose gripped the edge of the mattress and managed to shuffle her legs over the side, wincing at the pain that throbbed through her right leg. The physician had warned her not to move it, but she could not sit here as the man she loved slipped through her fingers. “You called me your blessing, your light, and your hope. You said you loved me. You called me, ‘my doe.’ That is not pretense, that isn’t part of a game, and I won’t believe that it is.”
“You should, for your sake,” he retorted, halfway to the door.
