“Oh, no, please.” She squeezed the Dowager’s hand. “Anthony is an honourable man. He treated me with nothing but kindness. He doesn’t deserve your scorn.”
“But he didn’t risk bleeding to death, did he? He wasn’t thinking with his brain when he was with you. And I don’t understand what took him. He’s always been such a sensible man. He wanted to court you, but then he got impatient. Irresponsible. Not to mention he didn’t send for a physician to visit you regularly in the past weeks. Very poor judgement on his part.”
No, only on her.
“He couldn’t have known that a miscarriage would have happened.”
“He didn’t blame you for losing the child, did he?” The Dowager’s tone promised a swift retribution if the answer were yes.
“Heavens, no. Did your husband blame you?”
“No, not George, but someone else. Those were different times. Women couldn’t even speak of wanting to vote or go to the university. A woman doctor was unthinkable.”
“Anthony is nothing but kind and responsible. I promise. He did nothing wrong.”
The Dowager patted her hand. “I’m touched by your wish to protect him, but see, if he’d waited for the wedding, you wouldn’t have felt pressured, ashamed, or worried. You wouldn’t have been desperate to marry quickly. We can’t exclude the tension of the past weeks caused the incident.”
She hadn’t thought about that. “It’s not Anthony’s fault.”
The Dowager regained her composure. “Anyway. You will focus on getting better. That’s the only thing that matters.” She rose with her usual grace and walked to the door. “Needless to say, you’ll keep all the pink gowns you want.”
Isabella chuckled.
