Her pulse quickened at the finality of the words. She stepped back as he opened the door, lingering just a moment longer, her hand brushing the frame. She paused, torn between hope and propriety, and then, with a quiet exhale, she stepped out, carrying the memory of his closeness with her into the night.
Dorothy stepped quietly into the hallway, her cheeks still tingling from the kiss and her heart fluttering in a way that left her both exhilarated and slightly unsettled. She knew deep down, with a faint pang, that Magnus would never ask her to stay, but she shook the thought from her mind, determined to hold onto the warmth of the moment. Optimism nudged at the edges of her uncertainty, whispering that she was so close to achieving the kind of life she had quietly longed for. A home filled with laughter, stories, and the gentle rhythm of family.
“Eugenia, I would like you to meet the Duchess of Montclaire and the Duchess of Ashbourne, my sisters, Emma and Cecilia,” Dorothy announced, her voice warm with excitement.
Eugenia’s eyes sparkled as she turned to each of them in turn. “Good morning, Your Grace. I’m Eugenia.”
Dorothy watched with a swell of happiness as Eugenia reached out to offer a small hand to each of them. The sight warmed her heart, and the room felt brighter, filled with laughter and the gentle hum of introductions.
Philip could not join them. His travel held him captive with its obligations, but to her surprise, her father, Howard, had arrived with them.
Dorothy felt a soft thrill of satisfaction as she glanced around the room. She had prepared food and games, laying out everything for their enjoyment, knowing the few hours together would be precious. Beyond the laughter and chatter, she had even carved out a moment for her father and Magnus to converse privately, hoping they might find common ground, perhaps even bond a little, before the family returned to their respective lives.
The house was alive with the warmth of kinship, and Dorothy could not help the quiet, bubbling joy in her chest. Though their visit would be short, it felt like a gift she had longed for.
“Dorothy, my dear, your home is simply exquisite! You’ve done a magnificent job!” Emma noted.
Cecilia nodded enthusiastically. “I thought the same when we walked in. You’ve thought of everything. I can see how much love and care you’ve poured into this household. We have so much to talk about!”
Dorothy laughed softly, a blush rising to her cheeks at their praise. “Thank you. I’m glad you like it. I will show you the rest of the house later.”
Emma leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Tonight, you must not plan to sleep. We intend to talk endlessly. You’ve been keeping so much from us in your letters; we need the full story!”
Cecilia’s eyes softened. “One of the things you never mentioned in your letters were matters of, you know, the wedding night,” she observed, lowering her voice to a careful murmur. “Emma and I always hoped we had explained things properly, but we worry. You must tell us.”
Dorothy giggled, shaking her head. “All right, all right,” she said, steering the conversation elsewhere. Though she knew she might still keep a few things to herself, she could not hide the excitement sparkling in her chest. She could hardly wait to share everything else, the stories, the little victories, the small joys that she had tucked away in her heart.
“Now,” she said, straightening. “Why don’t you bond with Eugenia a bit while I go find Papa? He seems to be taking quite the tour of the manor by himself.”
Eugenia’s eyes lit up at the prospect, and she clapped her hands with glee. Emma and Cecilia exchanged amused glances before joining in, all three of them laughing as Dorothy slipped away, leaving the joyful sounds of family filling the room.
Dorothy stepped lightly out of the drawing room, the laughter of her sisters and Eugenia fading behind her. As she turned into the wide hall, her eyes were immediately drawn to the far end where her father, Howard, stood admiring a painting hung on the wall. She allowed herself a small, amused smile and began walking toward him.
“Papa,” she said softly as she approached. “I see you’ve foundthe View of the Tiber by Moonlight—a fine piece, is it not?” The painting depicted the river winding beneath a silvery moon, the city of Rome dimly lit along the banks, shadows of columns and distant buildings reflecting on the rippling water.
Howard’s eyes followed hers, and she continued, “Magnus acquired it during a brief sojourn in Italy while in Rome. He admired the light on the water, he said, and believed it would suit the Walford gallery perfectly.”
Howard’s gaze softened as he turned to her. “It is indeed an excellent piece. I see why it drew his attention,” he observed, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Dorothy glanced at him, a small crease of worry appearing between her brows. “Papa… may I ask you something?” she said gently. “Are you… experiencing any financial distress? I receive letters from Philip, but I have also heard from Emma and Ceciliathat his travels have cost a considerable amount. I only wish to assure you that Magnus is generous with his allowance, and… I, too, can help, should you ever require it.”
Howard’s eyes softened further, and he shook his head, a faint laugh escaping him. “My dear, you are far too considerate,” he said warmly. “Thank you. Truly. But what I worry about… is you. It is why I decided to travel three days to come here.”
Dorothy tilted her head slightly, concern knitting her brows. “Papa, how so? I am doing well,” she replied softly. “Magnus treats me kindly, I am happy in our home, and even Eugenia, his little niece, is a joy.”
Howard sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No, Dorothy, you misunderstand me,” he said. “It is not a matter of kindness or comfort. You know, in London, the talk of His Grace is that he is a man to be revered. Intelligent, shrewd in business, a man who understands commerce as if it were second nature. He commands respect wherever he treads. Yet… you have been married for well over five months now, and there is no sign of an heir. A man like the Duke needs a legacy of his own. Men of his station, men like him, they require an heir to secure their family and estates, and the continuation of their line is no trivial matter. It is a duty as much as a privilege for a wife.”
Dorothy bowed her head, her lips pressing into a thin line as she murmured, “I understand, Papa. Thank you.”
On the surface, her voice was calm, measured, but within her chest, an unease had begun to grow. Nothing she and Magnushad done together had yet come toward that most private of intimacies that would grant her a place as his wife in every sense.
She did not even know the proper way to begin, the steps that would lead to an heir, only that they were expected to spend the night together as husband and wife.
The thought of children, once distant, abstract, barely imagined, now tugged at her, whispered to her that the time would come, that she could only be an aunt no longer, and that she could claim the next phase of her life.
Yet Magnus had shown no eagerness, had even said that he did not wish for an heir. How was she to move forward if the man who should share in this path remained unready, unenthusiastic?
She could not voice this to her father, could not stain the moment with doubts he could neither soothe nor solve. She gave him her thanks and walked away, her mind swirling with worry and a growing, restless longing she scarcely allowed herself to name.
