“But you had your daughters together,” she said softly.
“Yes.” For the first time since he’d begun speaking, genuine warmth entered his tone. “Three perfect, impossible daughters whom we both adored completely. Whatever else was lacking between Caroline and me, we shared that.”
“That must have been enough,” Sybil observed. “Shared love for your children.”
“It was. For a time.” Hugo moved to the window, staring out at the darkened street below. “Caroline was always delicate, prone to illness. When she caught consumption, we all knew it would be difficult. But the physicians assured us that with proper care, rest, good air…”
But it wasn’t enough.
“She deteriorated rapidly,” he continued, his voice growing even more detached. “Became weak, frail, a shadow of the woman she’d been. And I… I felt pity for her. Sympathy for her suffering. But not the desperate grief a husband should feel watching his wife fade away.”
“That doesn’t make you heartless,” Sybil said gently. “Affection built on respect and shared goals is still meaningful, even if it lacks passion.”
“Is it?” he turned back to her, and she was startled by the raw pain in his expression. “Because when I found her that morning, when I discovered what she’d done… all I could think was that I’d failed her completely.”
What she’d done?
“Hugo, what are you telling me?”
“She took her own life.” The words came out flat, factual, devastating. “The pain had become unbearable, the weakness humiliating. She’d become someone she didn’t recognize, and she… she chose to end it rather than continue suffering.”
Oh God. No wonder he’d been so terrified when I went near those sick children.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, setting down her teacup and moving toward him instinctively. “That must have been… I can’t imagine…”
“Can’t you?” His laugh was bitter, self-recriminating. “Because standing there in that corridor, listening to you defend your right to risk your life for others, all I could think about was Caroline. About failing to protect someone under my care. About finding another woman I’m responsible for…”
He stopped abruptly, as though realizing he’d revealed more than he’d intended.
Another woman he’s responsible for. Or another woman he cares about?
“That’s why you reacted so strongly,” she said, understanding flooding through her. “You weren’t just worried about the children’s safety. You were terrified something might happen to me.”
“Terrified doesn’t begin to cover it.” His golden gaze burned with intensity that made her breath catch. “When I heard you’d been exposing yourself to illness, when I imagined you collapsed, fever-bright and gasping for air…”
“It was just a cold, Hugo. Nothing like consumption.”
“This time.” He moved closer, close enough that she could see the flecks of brown in his eyes, the way his hands clenched at his sides as though he were fighting the urge to reach for her. “But what about next time? What about when it’s something more serious, something that could actually harm you?”
“I understand your concern,” she said with deliberation. “But I can’t promise to avoid all risks. Sometimes helping others requires accepting certain dangers.”
“Then we need a compromise.” His tone took on that note of ducal authority she was learning to recognize. “Something thatensures proper medical care without forcing you to abandon your principles entirely.”
“What sort of compromise?”
“I’ll arrange for a qualified physician to be available whenever any of the children fall ill. Someone with proper training and experience who can assess the situation and determine the appropriate course of treatment.”
Proper training and experience. Unlike my amateur efforts.
“That would certainly be better for them,” she admitted reluctantly. “A real physician would have knowledge and resources I lack.”
“Exactly.” Hugo stepped closer, his burning stare holding hers with uncomfortable intensity. “And in exchange, you promise not to take unnecessary risks with your own health. No more entering buildings full of sick children without proper precautions. No more administering treatments without medical supervision.”
“Very well,” she said slowly. “I can accept those terms.”
“Good.” But instead of looking satisfied by her agreement, Hugo’s expression grew even more serious. “Because I need you to understand something, Sybil. I could not survive losing you.”
“You won’t lose me,” she said softly. “I’m not Caroline. I’m not fragile or prone to illness, and I would never… that is, I would never make the choice she made.”
