"I have not been sighing."
"This morning, I found you smelling Lady Madeley's pillow."
Dr Fielding choked on what might have been a laugh.
Aubrey's face heated.
"It sounds like love," Dr Fielding said, his eyes twinkling. "Quite a severe case, I'm afraid. Possibly terminal."
"Don't encourage him," Morrison said darkly. "He's already impossible to manage."
Dr Fielding was openly laughing now. "I must say, Lord Madeley, I've treated many patients recovering from injury, but I've never seen one quite so... motivated by romance."
"My wife said she’d be leaving the day after Christmas," Aubrey said, his voice turning serious. "I am uncertain if she still plans to, but I am not taking any chances. So yes, I'm doing everything in my power to show her that I see her. That I will spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of her."
The room fell silent.
"Well," Morrison said finally, his prim expression softening almost imperceptibly. "When you put it that way, I suppose your obsession is somewhat more understandable."
"Somewhat?" Aubrey raised an eyebrow.
"I suppose your heart is in the right place."
"High praise indeed, coming from you, Morrison." Aubrey hesitated, then cleared his throat before addressing Dr Fielding. "Doctor, there's something else I must ask. Is it still your opinion that I may not be able to father children?"
Dr Fielding’s brow creased thoughtfully. "Father children? I recall expressing concern immediately after your injury, yes. At the time, the extent of trauma to your groin was uncertain. Severe contusions to one testicle can occasionally impair fertility, especially if blood flow is compromised or tissue is destroyed."
Aubrey gripped the edge of the table. "But now?"
"Now that the hematoma has resolved, and there is no evidence of lasting damage—no infection, atrophy, or pain—I see no reason to assume permanent harm. You have two testicles, Lord Madeley. Even were one to lose some function, the other is typically sufficient for fathering children. Your overall fertility might be minimally reduced, but you are by no means rendered sterile."
Relief crashed through Aubrey with such force he nearly sagged with it, only just managing to keep his composure.
"Though I must say," Dr Fielding added with a wry smile as he gathered his instruments, "no number of healthy testicles will matter if you're refused by your wife. I suggest you focus your efforts there." He laughed as he headed for the door. "Good luck, Lord Madeley. Something tells me you'll need it."
After the doctor left, Morrison began laying out Aubrey's clothes with his usual meticulous attention to detail.
"Morrison?" Aubrey said quietly while he positioned himself against the headboard.
"Yes, my lord?"
"What do you know about this luncheon with the orphans? What has Lady Madeley planned?"
Morrison paused in his work, considering. "From what I've gathered from the staff, my lady has arranged for a traditional luncheon in the dining room. Roasted chicken, vegetables, Christmas pudding. She's also prepared small gifts for each child, mostly practical items and a small toy."
"Practical." Aubrey nodded. "That sounds like Eleanor."
"Indeed, my lord." Morrison hesitated, then continued. "Though I overheard Mrs Williams mention that Lady Madeley had originally hoped to do something more... special. Before your arrival disrupted the household budget."
Aubrey sat up straighter, ignoring the twinge in his hip. "What kind of special?"
"Apparently, Lady Madeley used to hire a puppeteer each year for the Christmas luncheon. A Mr Whitby from the village, quite talented, from what I understand. He would perform scenes fromA Christmas Carolwith elaborate puppets. Mrs Williams said the children talked about it all year. Asked about whether the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come would return." Morrison's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "But this year, with all the preparations for your care and the unexpected expenses, Lady Madeley decided to forgo it. Said the practical gifts were more important."
Aubrey's chest tightened. "She should have told me more funds were needed. I must speak to my banker. I cannot recall the sum I’d approved."
"Her ladyship does not seem the type to ask for anything, my lord. She seems to make do and endure."
"Yes. She’s grown up with very little, and I haven’t been attentive enough.” His face heated with shame. "Hire Mr Whitby for a performancethis afternoon. Tell him I will double his fee if he teaches the children how to handle the puppets."
