Chapter 6 #2
Dorothy’s voice carried a trace of skepticism as she glanced between her sisters, her brow furrowed. “You both speak as if I am destined to experience the very romance that fills the pages of those novels. As if I am to fall headlong into love and all the sweetness it promises.”
Emma smiled gently, her eyes softening. “Love often surprises us, Dorothy. It comes when we least expect it, and it can soften even the hardest of hearts.”
Cecilia nodded in agreement. “His Grace may seem stern and unyielding now, but you never know what lies beneath. Time has a way of revealing a man’s true nature.”
Dorothy let out a short, humorless laugh.
“Do you truly believe that? Have you seen His Grace as I have? That cold, calculated man, so upright and unreadable. Do you honestly think someone like him is capable of loving as those heroes in our books do? Loving with passion and tenderness? Loving in a way that his insides burn when I stand close to him?”
The room grew quiet. Neither Emma nor Cecilia offered a response, their faces giving Dorothy the answer that she needed to hear. Dorothy’s eyes flickered downward, and she inhaled sharply.
Just then, Martha entered the room, her face lighting up with a warm, bright smile. “Madam, your bags are all packed and waiting downstairs,” she announced cheerfully. “Everything is ready for your journey.”
Dorothy rose slowly to her feet, brushing away the lingering weight of the morning’s emotions. She gathered herself, steadying her resolve.
As she made her way toward the door, Lucy suddenly appeared, bursting into the room and throwing her arms around Dorothy in a tight embrace.
“I’m going to miss you so, so much,” Lucy whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.
“But if you ever feel lonely, I’ll come visit and help you through anything. ”
Dorothy felt the warmth of her cousin’s words but held back the tears threatening to spill. She pressed a hand gently to Lucy’s back and whispered, “I’m not going to cry. I won’t. I’ll see you soon, Lucy. I’ll miss you too.”
As they parted, Lucy’s arms slowly slipped away, though her gaze remained fixed on Dorothy with fierce affection. Together with Emma and Cecilia, they began the gentle descent down the grand staircase. Martha followed closely behind, carrying the last of Dorothy’s packed belongings.
Cecilia’s voice broke the calm as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
“I do wish Philip, our brother, were here,” she said with a small sigh, the faintest trace of melancholy in her tone.
“He always had a way of teasing you, of making you forget any sadness that might be troubling you. Without him, this goodbye feels... quieter. Sadder, even.”
Dorothy glanced at Cecilia, seeing the truth in her sister’s words.
But Cecilia’s expression softened, and she turned to her.
“But you, Dorothy, must see this as a blessing. You are a duchess now. That title will open doors, create opportunities, and most importantly, give you a chance to shape your own life. You can live on your own terms now. Define your own happiness in the space you find yourself.”
Emma nodded. “Life’s trials are never without reason. Sometimes it takes hardship for us to see the light that follows. You must be patient. Everything will get better.”
Dorothy breathed deeply, letting their words settle in her heart. Their lives, full of experience and resilience, had taught them that time could heal even the deepest wounds. She would wait, then, and hope for herself and for the new life that awaited her.
“I know you both only want to make me feel better,” she said gently. “I am grateful for that more than I can say.”
Her gaze settled on Emma, and a small, sincere smile softened her features. “Emma, thank you for being a mother to me when Mama passed away so early. You took on so much without complaint, and I don’t think I ever properly thanked you for that.”
Emma reached out and placed her hand lightly on Dorothy’s arm, sharing in the unspoken understanding between them. “You don’t have to thank me. I would do it again in a heartbeat.”
They embraced, the three sisters holding each other tightly in a moment so charged with emotion it seemed to stretch time itself.
Dorothy felt the familiar prickling at the corners of her eyes, the tears she’d been holding back since morning now threatening to spill free.
But she clenched her jaw and blinked fiercely, refusing to let the tears fall. Not yet. Not here.
When the embrace broke, Dorothy stepped back and found her father standing before her, his stern gaze fixed on her. He was a man of few words and fewer displays of affection, but his presence carried a weight all the same.
“I trust you’ll do well,” he said quietly. “I know I may be strict, but I have your best interests at heart.” His eyes softened just a fraction. “I’m proud. I managed to raise three beautiful daughters who’ve made me proud.”
Dorothy nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Thank you, Papa. I hope you recover soon. You must get better.” Her voice was gentle but resolute. “If you need anything, please, write to me.”
He gave a curt nod, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he turned away.
Dorothy lifted her chin and stepped forward.
Her gaze immediately found Magnus, standing tall beside the polished black carriage, the morning sun catching the sharp lines of his face.
He didn’t look away as she approached. Instead, his eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her breath seize.
Each step she took toward him echoed in her mind like the slow, deliberate march down the aisle she’d just endured. But this moment felt different, charged with something intense, something both unsettling and magnetic.
Magnus’s presence was almost like a silent command.
It was the only way she could put it. The only explanation that made sense.
His eyes held hers like a challenge, daring her to meet whatever was simmering beneath that calm, controlled exterior.
The space between them seemed to pulse with tension, as if the air itself were waiting for one of them to break the silence.
Dorothy’s heart hammered fiercely, but she didn’t look away.
Instead, she met his gaze head-on, feeling the heat of his stare burn through her skin.
A flicker of something crossed his features.
It was subtle but unmistakable. It felt almost as if he was intentionally challenging her to meet his gaze.
For a moment, they simply stood there once she reached the carriage.
Magnus’s hand moved deliberately to the door handle, opening it with a smoothness that contrasted the tension hanging thick between them.
But Dorothy didn’t move to step inside right away.
Instead, she stood frozen, her gaze fixed on the plush seat within, her thoughts swirling.
“How was the wedding?”
Dorothy turned slowly to face him, disbelief softening her features. “You’re asking me how the wedding was?”
He nodded. “Yes. How was the wedding?”
She hesitated a beat, then exhaled softly.
“It wasn’t at all like I expected.” Her lips curved in a faint, reluctant smile.
“But… it was a beautiful wedding, I have to admit. The chapel... was stunning. Somehow, the warmth of the place, the way the light filtered through the glass... soothed me. It felt welcoming in its own way.”
Magnus’s gaze lingered on her, as if storing every word, every subtle change in her expression. “Good,” he murmured. “Have you said goodbye to your family?”
“Yes.” She lowered her head and nodded.
“Because you know you won’t be seeing them for a long time. Northern England is days away.”
At those words, every iota of composure Dorothy had carefully maintained shattered. Her breath caught sharply, heart pounding as a sudden, sharp panic gripped her.
Days away?
Farther than she had truly allowed herself to imagine. This was the first time she would be so utterly separated from everything familiar. From her sisters, her father, and the home she’d always known.
Her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the edge of the carriage door, a storm raging behind her eyes. The distance wasn’t just measured in miles but in the stretch of loneliness and uncertainty that yawned before her like an endless night.
“Don’t cry, Dorothy.”
She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as she could muster. “I wasn’t planning to. I wasn’t going to cry.”
But then he said, almost like he knew her better than she knew herself, “Yes, you are. You’re about to cry.”
Her eyes dropped away from his, the truth settling deep within her. She hated that he was right. She hated feeling this fragile on what was supposed to be a day of strength.
“It’s all right...” His voice softened. “... to cry sometimes. I never cry, so I can’t give you much advice but... it’s your wedding day. It wouldn’t look right now, would it? Also, I reckon—”
Dorothy’s breath caught as Magnus spoke. Yet before he could finish, she reached out almost instinctively. Her fingers found his hand. His arm had been just out of reach, but his hand hovered close enough, and she grasped it firmly.
She was holding onto the carriage door with one hand, seeking something solid beneath her trembling, but her other hand found refuge in his.
She squeezed tightly, knowing she was gripping him harder than necessary, but in that moment, she didn’t care.
It was a lifeline, a tether to something steady amid the swirling emotions.
She drew in a slow, steadying breath, grounding herself with the strength she found in his touch. Then, with her resolve back in her mind, she gently released his hand, turned away, and stepped into the carriage.
The door closed softly behind her, leaving the lingering warmth of his touch behind.