Chapter 22 #2
Dorothy’s voice trembled as she confessed to her sisters, the words spilling out in a rush she could no longer contain.
“You once asked me why I wanted to remain a spinster all my life, why I refused to marry,” she began, looking at Emma and Cecilia with wide, earnest eyes.
“The truth is, I’ve always been afraid of failing.
I never wanted to be a shadow of what you’ve become.
I did not think I could live up to you both, and now…
now it feels as though my fear is coming to pass. I’ve ruined everything.”
Before she could take another step, Emma grabbed her arm, pulling her into a quieter, less crowded alleyway.
Cecilia quickly moved to stand in front of her, framing her between them like she had when they were children in mischief.
“Never say that,” Emma said firmly, her voice steady but filled with care. “Never go outside believing that.”
Cecilia’s hands rested gently on Dorothy’s shoulders.
“It’s all right to have that fear,” she admitted softly.
“We had it, too, when we married. Every marriage has obstacles, every single one. Perhaps you are not ready to speak of what weighs on you, and that’s all right. You don’t have to talk about it yet.”
Emma squeezed her hand. “But know this, Dorothy. You have us. No matter the outcome, no matter what happens, we will make sure our little sister ends up happy. Even as a married woman, you are still our responsibility, and we will carry that with all our hearts.”
Dorothy’s chest tightened at their words, a warmth blooming through her fear. “What do I do with all this love when he doesn’t feel the same for me? I can never have his heart. Not truly. I am just a companion to him. Not really a wife.”
Emma stepped closer, gripping Dorothy’s shoulders. “Dorothy, listen to us. Until he declares it with his mouth, you should never believe that he feels nothing for you. You know who you are. You are outspoken, caring, and full of love. Any man who cannot see that is a fool, a blind fool.”
Cecilia nodded. “And if the Duke fails to see it, we will make him. We will make him understand because you, Dorothy, deserve all the happiness in the world. Never doubt your worth for a single moment.”
“You are the Lockhart sisters, aren’t you?” A gentleman, sharp-eyed and brimming with impatience, stepped into their path, his gaze fixed upon them with unnerving intensity. “Your brother, Phillip, where is he? You will tell me now.”
The man was tall and lean with sharp, angular features that seemed to harden the shadows around him.
His dark eyes glinted with impatience, and his lips were thin, pressed into a line that spoke of irritation and menace.
His coat, though well-tailored, hung slightly askew, giving him an air of restless aggression, as if the world itself had slighted him, and he intended to make amends through force.
Dorothy’s gaze sharpened as recognition flickered through her mind.
She remembered him from a week past when he had come to the house, prying about Philip and questioning the housekeeper with that same insolent persistence.
Now, standing before her again, his presence seemed even more threatening, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Philip owed him money, if that was the root of this relentless harassment.
Yet, even with that thought, her defiance only hardened.
For weeks, she had endured questions and insinuations, and now, the brazenness of this man’s tone ignited a spark of defiance within her. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and met his eyes without flinching.
“I suggest you take your questions elsewhere,” she said, her voice ringing clear and firm. “We have no obligation to answer you. Leave us be.”
The man’s expression darkened. Without warning, he lunged, shoving them further toward a narrow alley, his hand brushing against Dorothy’s arm with enough force to unbalance her. “Tell me, or there will be consequences,” he hissed. “Where is Phillip Lockhart?”
Dorothy’s heart pounded, but instinct and courage surged stronger than fear.
She threw herself at him, shrieking, her voice piercing the evening’s calm as she tried to get the man away from her sisters.
The force of her struggle and the sound of her protest startled him, but he reacted with panic, shoving her back violently.
Dorothy stumbled, her head striking the rough stone of the wall.
A sudden, sharp pain flared, and the world tilted.
The gentleman, flustered and realizing the severity of his actions, fled without a backward glance, leaving only silence in his wake. Dorothy’s knees buckled as consciousness abandoned her, the shadows of the alley swallowing her in an eerie, suffocating embrace.
Emma and Cecilia rushed forward, their hands trembling as they tried to steady her limp form, but Dorothy could not feel anything. She couldn’t hear anything, and her vision was dimming by the second. She could even taste blood in her mouth.
The evening, which had promised solace, had turned cruel in the blink of an eye.