Chapter 26

26

Dorian marched through the hallway towards the back doors of Rath Hall. Three days he'd kept away from Patience, hanging on to sanity by a thread.

He finally came home— to this?

"Dorian—" Lucien's warning voice sounded after him. "Goddamn it, don't do anything you'll?—"

"Shut up, Lucien!" Dorian roared over his shoulder. "Stay out of this!"

However, Lucien's hurried footsteps followed Dorian.

She'd gone to Lucien! She had asked Chastity for help! Would Chastity find out, too, that her brother was a murderer?

Fear and hurt worse than he'd ever known split his heart in half. She hadn't promised him she'd stop digging, so why did her going to Lucien feel like a betrayal?

And yet, that secret would destroy her, too. Destroy their happiness.

There was not much to destroy, his demon reminded him.

He had been avoiding her like a coward for three days since he'd taken her virginity, even though it killed him to think of how she'd probably failed to sleep during that time.

She must think you just used her for your own pleasure. She must be so confused.

That was of no consequence. He covered the length of the hallway quickly, and pushed the back doors open so forcefully they crashed against the outer walls with a loud bang, almost falling off their hinges.

He saw her working in the garden, her back bent as she used the shovel. She had a simple straw bonnet on to protect herself from the sun, and her sleeves were up to her elbows. As usual, she wasn't wearing gloves, and her hands would be so blistered and painful later.

She looked up at the sound of the crash, and her face changed from being deeply satisfied with her work to alert. The footmen and gardeners who had been working all around the garden looked up, as well, pausing.

He didn't care. He didn't even stop to notice that after only a few days the garden he had hated so much had changed significantly. With the overgrown branches now gone, sunlight flooded the space, transforming it into a place of light and warmth. A few dried and sick tree limbs and a thick trunk lay on the ground in the farthest corner of the vast garden. The sounds of a hand saw and axes being wielded resounded as the tree's dark gnarly branches trembled.

"Duchess," he hissed as he stopped before her, remarking distantly how strangely pale she looked.

Was that because she couldn't sleep without him? Guilt gnawed at him like that hand saw at the tree.

"You're back," she said, and he could hear a longing in her voice that made a pleasant shiver rush through him.

He'd slept in the cottage on the other side of the estate as he'd decided to see the tenants there. Normally, his demon would have had him hurry to Elysium and take Lilith or run himself into a grave by boxing and fencing. But his visit to the Battens and Cohen and the other tenants nearby with Patience had reminded him he could be useful. And so he'd spent the past three days channeling his fury, his pain, into mending roofs, doors, animal pens, and making lists of more repairs that were beyond his personal ability but would need to be seen to.

It was deeply satisfying work.

But he couldn't tell her that. Not now anyway. Now he had to stop her.

"Dorian!" called Lucien again, striding up to stand next to him. Patience's gaze flickered to Luhst and then back to Dorian. "Don't make me regret I told you." Then he added, looking at Patience, "I'm sorry."

Patience nodded gracefully, but her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Of course. What can I do for you, Your Grace?" she asked Dorian.

Her formal address hit him like a slap.

Around them, the footmen and gardeners resumed their duties, maintaining a deliberate silence. A tense atmosphere enveloped the garden.

"You must stop, Patience," Dorian growled as low as he could.

Fury had him ready to snap, and he couldn't take in enough air. Patience was also taking shallow, light breaths, the ovals of her breasts moving fast while her stomach—no doubt tied with a corset—did not. The spring day was warm and sweat glistened on her forehead. He didn't like that she looked so pale.

"Have you slept at all?" he asked, worry for her well-being suddenly much more important than any anger he felt.

"No," she said. "Not since you left."

Goddamn it. He felt his hands clench into fists.

"I'd best be off," said Lucien, gravel crunching under his feet as he slowly backed away. "I'll see if Lady Chastity might have a minute for tea. Dorian, behave."

Dorian didn't give Lucien another glance as he heard his best friend retreat into the house. He could barely contain himself from yanking the shovel out of Patience's hands and demanding that she take a rest.

He felt sorry he had left her. Sorry she wasn't sleeping without him. Truth was, he hadn't got much sleep without her, either.

"You should get out of the sun," he said more gruffly than he intended. "And you should stop digging into Oxford. I can't tell you what you want to know, Patience."

"Can't or won't?" she demanded.

Even her voice sounded weak. He really did not like how fast she breathed. She seemed almost breathless.

"Won't," he said.

"You have been secretive," she said, and for the first time he could hear notes of anger, hear her actually raising her voice. "You have been avoiding me. There's something about my brother that you're hiding. You left me no choice."

"You have a choice. You can stop asking questions and trust me."

She scoffed. "Trust you? I thought I could, but then you left me alone after the most incredible experience of my life! You made me feel so isolated just when I thought we had connected more deeply than I ever have with anyone!" Her voice faltered, she swayed slightly, and her eyelids drooped. "How can I trust?—"

Alarm surged through Dorian like a war horn.

She staggered to the side, her movement unsteady, and her foot caught on the stump of a fallen tree. She began to fall sideways, shockingly silent, not even extending her arms to break her descent.

She was about to hit the ground…

Nothing mattered more than preventing her fall.

He lunged forward and caught her before she could collide with the earth, his knees hitting the soil. She yelped in pain. He cradled her in his arms, her eyes blinking slowly as she looked up at him. Fear for her sent a jolt through him, his body both limp and prickling with adrenaline. Calls of concern rose, and he noticed footmen and gardeners hurrying over to form a circle around them.

Dorian lifted her into his arms and rose. "Go and find Mrs. Knight," he barked at one of the footmen. "Have her bring water to my bedchamber. Find Popwell and send someone for the physician."

"Yes, Your Grace," replied the footman.

"My ankle…" she whispered.

He glanced at her ankle. There was blood trickling down her shoe.

As Dorian carried her into the house, he felt like he was cradling the most precious thing in the entire world and he had almost lost her.

He shoved the raging beast inside him deep down. For her, he'd do anything.

Almost anything.

He still couldn't tell her about the duel.

He marveled at how calm he could be, while one part of him was furious with her and another was so terrified he felt cold.

"Have you had anything to drink today?" he asked as the blessed coolness of the house's interior wrapped around them.

"A cup of tea," she replied. "At breakfast. "

"It's almost five o'clock," he growled. "You must have lost a lot of fluid, working in the sun all day."

"And my corset," she breathed out. "It's my own fault. I let Mademoiselle Antoinette lace it so tightly. She said that's how duchesses are supposed to wear them. I should have told her I wasn't a duchess today but a mere gardener."

"You should have," he agreed as he took the steps upstairs.

Having her cradled in his arms felt like the rightest thing in the world.

As he laid her on the bed, Mrs. Knight hurried in with a tray bearing a carafe of water, a teapot, and biscuits. Behind his housekeeper's usual cool and collected face, he could see traces of worry.

"Here you go, Your Grace," she said to Patience.

Dorian had already taken out his medical emergency basket. For the first time ever, it was going to be used for someone other than him. While Mrs. Knight poured water and added sugar, he looked at the cut on Patience's ankle.

It was not deep, thankfully, and had already started to clot at the sides. That was a relief.

He was not going to let anything else happen to her.

Chastity had told him about one of her medical experiments, which involved cleansing wounds to avoid infection. She assured him that wounds should be cleaned with spirits, or if that was not available, soap and water or vinegar. And she'd said that it was important to boil water before treating wounds with it. She insisted that every medical basket he had included a small bottle of spirits. As Chastity had showed him, he poured a small amount of the spirits on a clean cloth.

Patience took a few sips of water and put the glass on the night table.

"This is going to sting," he warned her.

"Oh. "

With his right hand holding her ankle in place, he gently rubbed the cloth down her cut with his left hand. She yelped. The sight of her hurt made his gut twist. It was his fault, too. If he had stayed, she'd have slept in his bed and wouldn't be so tired.

"Sorry, love," he said.

The cut was long, extending from the bone at the juncture of the foot and ankle to the middle of her ankle, but thankfully, it didn't look deep.

"Can I do anything else?" asked Mrs. Knight.

"You can untie my corset," complained Patience, who was removing her bonnet.

"I'll do that," said Dorian.

It came out more gruffly than he liked, but the thought of anyone else touching Patience was unbearable. Knowing in theory that her lady's maid helped her dress and undress was one thing; witnessing it was quite another.

It was possessive of him, he knew, but he wanted to be the only one who saw his wife in such moments.

"Of course, Your Grace," said Mrs. Knight. "May I suggest asking the cook to prepare some chicken soup for Your Grace? Perhaps I'm speaking out of place, but my mother always said chicken soup will cure anything."

"That would be lovely," said Patience. "Thank you."

As Mrs. Knight retreated from the room, Dorian secured a fresh, clean bandage to Patience's ankle.

"Now the corset?" asked Patience. "Please do unlace it. You were completely right. I couldn't breathe right all day long working in the garden, and I should have drunk more water. It was a surprisingly warm day."

"Of course."

He helped her sit upright. When she turned her back to him, he unlaced her dress. The act was simple, and he didn't even see much of her skin, and yet, touching her, even through the fabric, had his cock standing at attention. As he unlaced her corset, his resolve to distance himself from her evaporated.

"You will sleep here tonight," he said.

She turned to him, and her blue eyes sparkled as they locked with his. The smile that spread on her lips made a needle of joy pierce his heart.

"Yes," she said, and his chest filled with lightness and warmth, like a hot air balloon.

And then there was something strange happening to his face. He felt a tug at the corners of his lips, and her eyes dropped to his mouth, her grin widening.

She gently touched his lips with her fingertips, her expression akin to the awe one might feel when seeing a rare animal up close. "You're smiling," she whispered. "Heavens, you're smiling, Dorian. You're breathtaking when you smile."

She had done this. She had opened the curtains inside his chest and let the sunshine straight into his dark heart.

He was a fool. He couldn't distance himself from her no matter how much he tried.

This woman felt like his salvation.

But one day she very well may also be his damnation.