“That’s understandable, You Grace,” the doctor said, with what sounded like awe in his voice. “Now, I’d like you to prepare yourself for the stitches.”
Dr. Merryweather began stitching his wound closed, and while it hurt, Richard’s mind kept drifting elsewhere. He realized that while he kept on telling Victoria the distance was protection, it actually felt more like a cage. It caged their emotions, tearing them apart from each other. He spent most of this time trying to save her and Melody from the world, but forgot what it was like to live with them.
But now, Penwike was gone! He was behind bars, hopefully contemplating his crimes against this world. Hawksford House was now at peace, when it had not been for decades. With this realization, he had the urge to go home. He could no longer be a distant guardian. He wanted to be a husband and father. For real this time.
“That feels so much better, doctor,” he murmured after the physician was done with the stitches.
“It does. Doesn’t it? Now, it’s time for you to go home to your family, Your Grace. Let us steer away from trouble as much as we can,” the physician said kindly.
He would, indeed, go home in more ways than one.
Victoria hated being left in the dark. She felt it even more so now that she knew her husband had a bleeding wound to the side she didn’t get to see for herself. She paced the foyer, her hands clasped together. Her mind was haunted by the blood staining Richard’s shirt.
Somebody entered. Her head jerked upward, but it was only Jonathan. She felt a rush of disappointment,
“Victoria,” he said by way of greeting, giving her a nod. His face showed relief and exhaustion, a blend she had been familiar with as of late herself. “It’s over. Penwike is behind bars.”
She could barely get a word out, but even though she was right there when the last bit of the confrontation happened, she could not help but squeak, “Penwike?”
Yes, that name had been associated with Hawksford problems since the beginning. As a new bride, she was introduced to that name. She didn’t mind it, then. Even with the stories of duels, the whole thing felt too far away, as if she were not part of it. After the scandal sheets and the bloody encounter betweenRichard and Penwike, the villain had become fleshed out. Too real.
“Yes,” Jonathan confirmed. “He will be locked away for a very long time, given the attempted murder charge and his financial ruin. Nobody wants to deal with someone who has lied so many times before. Penwike is finished. He could have recovered from his finances in time, but he resorted to violence.
“And Richard?” Victoria breathed out, her shoulders sagging. “Where is he? Why aren’t you with him?”
“He went to Dr. Merryweather after talking to the authorities,” Jonathan replied. “I believe he does not want you seeing him leaking blood. Of course, it is also the wise thing to do. He needed stitches. Oh, no. Don’t look scared. I believe he’ll be all right and will be home soon. He’ll be in pain, but he’ll definitely live.”
“Thank God,” Victoria whispered, squeezing her eyes shut, a tear of relief rolling down her cheek.
Her eyes felt swollen from all the crying she had been doing so far. She needed to breathe and relax, and wait for Richard’s homecoming.
“Rest a while, duchess,” Jonathan said gently, giving her a slight bow. “Hawksford should be home within an hour. Dr. Merryweather is the best at his craft. Meanwhile, the duke has been quite vocal about returning to his family soon. I can understand. He has been away long enough.”
Victoria could only nod at that. Richard had certainly been away for too long.
Chapter Thirty-Four
How did the day go by so quickly? Richard thought the day would be spent avoiding Victoria in his study. There might have been a bit of gloating from the newest edition of the scandal sheet. But things went better and worse than he ever imagined.
The lanterns were already lit. It was late in the afternoon, and Richard entered his home with a far slower gait than his usual. While the physician was undoubtedly skilled, he could feel the pull of the stitches when he moved. He had a bandage over the closed wound, and he still smelled of blood. It would not be the best of reunions, but he still longed to see Victoria and Melody.
Fatigue shook his body as he walked into his study. He shouldn’t be here. It was too soon. He could have lost his life here, but he also wanted to see it afterward and reclaim it as his own space before Penwike came to disturb it.
Richard used to hide in his study with a glass of brandy or whiskey. He had let these spirits numb his feelings, allowing them to take him to a place where all he could focus on was his ledgers.
This time, he ignored the decanters. Instead, he just surveyed the room and saw that everything was left as it was from earlier. Books on the floor. Fallen shelves. Blood on the rug.
It was time to go to the nursery. There would be time to settle these things. As usual, the door was slightly ajar. It was better this way, according to Victoria. Someone could always check on Melody and her current guardian.
The nursery was peaceful, bathed in warm candlelight. Victoria sat by the hearth, the fire giving her golden hair an ethereal glow. She was beautiful. She had always been, but he always forced himself to look the other way. From tonight, he would not be looking away anymore.
She was humming a melody, unfamiliar but sweet, her eyes solely on the child in her arms. Melody’s eyes were closed, and her small lips were parted, her small hands resting on Victoria’s bodice. It looked like she had just finished feeding and was ready for a night of peaceful slumber.
Richard stood by the doorway, pondering the scene and whether he should interrupt the mother and child. This peace, which he’d yearned for his entire life, seemed so fragile now. And yet, he dared hope that it would be stronger. Lasting.
As if sensing his presence, Victoria looked his way. Her eyes, weary and red-rimmed, met his gaze. She blinked once as if she wasn’t certain he was there at all. Her humming stopped, leaving her lips parted. He could not help but look at them. They were full and red. He could still remember kissing them, could recall the taste easily. His walls were crumbling down, and for the first time, he was not afraid.
“The physician said I don’t have to prepare my will yet,” Richard said, grinning. His voice was raspier than he expected.
