Page 62 of His Highland Duchess
“Of course, of course.”
“You got lucky, Your Grace,” the doctor continued. “Truly, had she fallen at a different angle or had the horse been in action…” He shook his head. “Well, there is no need to go down that path. That she will make a full recovery is reason enough to celebrate.”
Lysander breathed a sigh of relief to hear it. Yet where it should have made him feel remarkably better, it had the opposite effect. For how he had been feeling had little to do with the chance that Margaret might be badly injured – he had known she was not, and calling the doctor was merely a precaution. The reason Lysander felt the way he did was caused by worries that ran far deeper than a few small bruises.
“Thank you, doctor.” Lysander pulled himself from that frame of thought and wrapped a hand around the doctor’s shoulder. “You have my gratitude.”
“Happy to do it,” the doctor said with a warm smile. “And if you need anything else, do not hesitate to send for me.”
“It shall be done.”
Lysander walked the doctor downstairs and to the front door. There, he bid him goodbye and thanked him again. Remaining by the open doorway, Lysander watched the doctor climb into his carriage and leave, his stomach twisting itself into knots as it had been all day.
“Your Grace…” From behind him, Mr. Jeffries appeared.
“Oh.” Lysander turned about to find his aged head of staff waiting for him. “Mr. Jeffries, you snuck up on me.”
“My apologies, Your Grace.”
“You needed something?”
He bowed. “I was just with your daughters, and they wish to know if they might be able to pay a visit to Her Grace, now that the doctor has left. They are terribly worried.”
His stomach twisted further, joined by a stabbing pain that shot right through his chest. Of course his daughters were worried for Margaret. Likely, they were beside themselves and would be overjoyed to learn that she was fine.But that is part of the problem. And I cannot imagine what might have happened had…he shook his head, refusing to go down that road.
“Send them up in ten minutes,” he instructed.
“It will be done.” Mr. Jeffries offered a short bow and hurried away.
Lysander took a deep breath as he prepared to visit his wife. He had not seen her since the doctor arrived, wishing to give the two of them space. In truth, he had barely spoken a word to her since the fall, not trusting himself to say anything. Not willing to voicehow he had been feeling at the time, while hoping that by now those feelings would have gone.
But they have not gone. If anything, they have grown even stronger. They besiege me, wreaking havoc and tormenting me so that I do not even know how I feel. Or rather, which feelings to focus on.
He sighed and started up the steps. Then down the hallway. And before long, he found himself at her closed bedroom door. There, he hesitated once again, his heart beating painfully, his stomach still twisted, his fears crashing down upon him so that he could hardly breathe.
These fears… he had never known anything like them. Having never truly cared for or loved another, he had never been in a position where he had needed to worry about what might happen to someone whom he loved–yes, he used the word love. He had not admitted it to himself properly, but what else could it be? If not love, then he likely would not feel this way.
Yet that was precisely the problem. Lysander had spent so long on his own, with only his daughters to care for, that he had never considered the pain and suffering felt for someone he cared about deeply. And worse than that, the pain and suffering felt if anything was to happen to them…
It had been so close, too. Even the doctor had said so. A split-second difference, and Margaret might have died, breaking him, destroying his daughters, calling into question completelywhether this marriage was worth the effort or if it might have been better to have never grown so attached in the first place.
Still, he and Margaret had not discussed their future. But the conversation was there on the tip of their tongue. Yesterday, he’d had no doubt what he wanted. More than that, he’d had no doubt what Margaret wanted. Only now… could he put himself through that? And could he put his daughters through that too?
It was hard to think about. Hard to reckon with.Hard to know what the right answer might be! If one even exists!He could feel himself drowning, so he gave his head another shake and opened the door to his wife’s bedroom.
Perhaps seeing her finally will answer these questions… God, how I hope so.
He braced himself, put on a brave face, and entered the room.
It was late in the afternoon, the sun just now kissing the horizon, so the sky was painted in dark purples and deep reds. It washed through the room, spreading from the window and across the bed where Margaret sat waiting patiently in bed. Her wrist was wrapped in bandages, but apart from that, she looked perfectly fine.
“There ye are,” she said. “I was beginning to wonder about ye.”
He grimaced as he reached the bed. His first thought was to sit right by her side so he could take her good hand and squeeze itlovingly. But he balked at the idea, choosing instead to sit on the bed’s end. Margaret seemed to notice, her face dropping, only to quickly straighten up and brighten as if nothing was the matter.
“I wish to give the doctor space, is all,” Lysander assured her. “It would have been no good if I were in here fretting, getting in the way.”
“Ye could never be in the way.”
