She could not just lie there indefinitely, in a house she did not recognize, with a husband she did not know, in a place she did not belong. As such, she wanted to know how bad itcouldget if she did not follow his suggestions to the letter.
“If your situation worsens, and you lose more of your memories, or your temperament changes and veers toward aggression or violence, then we may be forced to send you to an asylum,” he answered gravely.
At that, the duke stood sharply from the windowsill where he had been perched since the physician arrived. “Watch how you speak to the duchess, Dr. Farnaby!” he barked, while the physician jumped in fright.
“I only meant that—” the man tried to say, but the duke cut him off again.
“You will keep such opinions to yourself! No Holdridge will be sent to any asylum.”
Thalia glared at her supposed husband who, she had discovered, bore the name of Henry Brooks. She was under no illusion that he actually cared aboutherbeing sent to an asylum; he was justconcerned about her bringing shame to his dynasty. It was right there in the twin lines etched between his eyebrows, his distaste for all of this unexpected mess.
“Of course, Your Grace,” the physician mumbled.
He was just answering my question honestly,Thalia considered saying but ultimately held her tongue; she had already caused enough trouble for one day.
“This is a tonic,” the man proceeded, placing a small bottle on the bedside table. “You should take a spoonful after each meal, and then one before you go to sleep. It ought to help you relax and its restorative properties may be of use to your memory. Again, I can make no promises, but you are young and in otherwise excellent health, so I am hopeful. Although… um…”
Henry folded his arms across his chest. “Spit it out, man.”
“Your wife should not seek to… um… bear any children anytime soon,” the physician replied, his face flushing a bright shade of pink. “The strain of pregnancy would be… too much for her condition.”
Thalia’s father barked a laugh that made her jump, as she, too, felt her face flood with warmth. The situation was embarrassing enough without such topics being discussed in front of her father.
“Is that all?” Henry replied bluntly, surprising Thalia a little.
If we have been married for four years, why do Inothave any children? Am I barren?She suddenly wished she might have a moment alone with her apparent husband, so she could ask as many indelicate questions as she liked without an audience. Then again, perhaps it was better if she did not have any answers, allowing her mind to remember in its own time… or not at all.
The physician nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.” He paused. “I will return in a week, to see if there is any progress. If that is agreeable to you, Your Grace?”
“Very well,” Henry replied stiffly.
With a nervous sort of bow, the physician vacated the room, though the same could not be said of Thalia’s father who lingered like a bad smell.
“You heard the doctor,” Henry said flatly. “You are to rest and recuperate. I think it would be preferable if you did not leave your chambers.”
I am sure you do.There did not seem to be any affection between Thalia and her husband, his concerns mostly a matter of pride and maintaining appearances, rather than anything else. At least, that was how it appeared to her, and he had said and done nothing to make her think otherwise.
He did not even look at her with the fondness of a companion or friend, suggesting there was not much of a relationship betweenthem at all. Then again, she was no stranger to spouses not exactly doting on one another.
Mama tried to love Father, but one can only endure being fed scraps of attention for so long before they starve.
She shook off the thought and looked toward her father. “I should like to return home now. I daresay I have a better chance of recovering if I am in familiar surroundings. And I know that seeing Dorothy would vastly improve my spirits.”
Gibbs snorted. “Thisisyour home.”
“But, to me, it is not,” Thalia tried to argue. “I do not know this place. I do not have my sister here. If I stay here, it will not help my condition at all.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Henry moving closer, until he was at her bedside. So astonishingly handsome that she could have imagined that he had wandered out of a dream if this was not such a complete nightmare.
“Please, I must go home,” she urged, her voice cracking. “I am not a duchess, I am not a wife, I am not well! I need my own bedchamber, my own maids, my… own things, or I shall lose my sanity entirely. You are all telling me things as if they are facts, but they are impossible to my mind, and I cannot make sense of it!”
She attempted to throw back the coverlets and clamber out of the, admittedly very comfortable, bed.
A stilted gasp slipped from her mouth as she felt Henry’s hand resting gently on her shoulder, pushing her back into the tower of pillows that the older maid had stacked behind her.
In a low, commanding voice, he told her, “Youwillstay here, where I can keep a close eye on you. It is imperative.”
“But—”
