If she did, she might cry, and that was not befitting to the situation. Squaring her shoulders, she said, “If you do not let me use the carriage, I shall simply hire a hackney. I will not live beneath your thumb.”
“Beneath my thumb? That is never how I treated you.”
But a cold, hard block of something wedged in Henrietta’s chest, and despite the feeling that she was making the worst mistake of her life, she couldn’t bring herself to back down. “Nevertheless, you have made the serious error of attempting to control my future. That cannot be allowed.”
“Henrietta...” Uncle stepped forward, holding out his hands. Utterly unexpected. “I love you.”
She blinked. Hard. The prickling sensation beneath her eyelids did not cease. He had said such words perhaps four times since she had come to live with him. She had known he felt that way, but to hear him say it brought the pressure in her chest to a crushing pain. A tear, unbidden, slipped down her cheek.
He reached for her hands, took them in his own. “My dearest hope is for you to be happy. If that means staying with me and practicing medicine, then so be it.”
“I have already given my word,” she choked out.
He nodded, understanding. “Then go for a year. Learn. And come home to me. I will be waiting.”
Tears blazed a burning trail down her cheeks. Her nose was becoming congested and her eyes puffy, stinging. She managed a nod, pulled her hands away and pivoted down the stairs to where her carriage awaited.
The ride to the room she’d rented for the night was fraught with tears. She managed to dry her eyes before arriving. The proprietor, a kindly lady with smile grooves beside her mouth, looked as though she guessed that Henrietta had been weeping. She showed her to her room.
It was clean and sparse, as Henrietta had been told from an acquaintance who recommended the place. She thanked the woman and then sat on her bed, suddenly aware that this would be her life now.
Alone.
She was not one to sit and ponder circumstances. She more often than not preferred to rise up in action and take charge of a situation.
Until tomorrow morning, though, she had nothing but a silent room in which to ruminate.
Uncle William loved her. He wanted her.
She laid down, staring up at the beamed ceiling. Until Dominic had mentioned her uncle’s aloofness, she had not realized how it made her feel. Dominic had shown her many facets to herself that she had not realized existed.
Suddenly the thought of Italy was not so exciting. Perhaps pursuing medicine was her dream, but did it have any meaning without her family by her side? With a maid who existed only as a translator and preserver of reputation?
For the first time in months, she wondered if she ought to have prayed for direction. Since coming home, she had been so bent on getting her own way, on doing what she had planned, that she hadn’t bothered to inquire of God what His plans were.
And now that she’d achieved almost exactly what she wanted, she still was not content.
* * *
“I appreciate you meeting me.” Dominic studied Mr. Gordon, who had settled in a chair across from him.
“I’ll confess, I’ve never been in White’s before.” Mr. Gordon studied the gentleman’s club the way one might imagine a physician observes anatomy. As though taking in the bones and sinews of the place and determining health.
“Membership is select. An exception was made for you today.”
“Why here?”
“It is conducive to a private conversation.” Dominic tapped the side of his chair. He had often enjoyed White’s in his less than circumspect past, but he had not been there in several months. “Here is the gist of the matter—you and Lady Brandewyne bungled. But it is not all your fault. I have something I must tell you. It is the reason why I can never marry your niece.”
“Go on.” The doctor folded his hands and leaned forward. Evidently used to secrets.
Dominic had been counting on that. One did not become renowned by exposing the secret illnesses of the ton. This man was trustworthy when it came to medical issues.
Dominic took a deep breath, feeling a rush of panic that lightened his head and shook his hands. He had never told anyone but Henrietta. Sharing the secret unnerved him. “I am not a healthy man.”
At that, Mr. Gordon leaned back in surprise. “A remarkable thing to say, my lord. You appear quite fit.”
“It is a falsity.” Dominic leaned forward, glancing about to make sure no one heard. “I would prefer this to stay between us, as it could potentially affect my family.”
Her uncle put his elbows on his knees. “But of course. Discretion is my duty as a physician.”
“Even if you think I’m insane? If you believe me a menace to society, what then?”
“That is absurd. Lady Brandewyne has known you since a babe and vouches for your character. I have also observed and interacted with you several times. You’re not insane.”
“You may change your mind,” Dominic said darkly.
“Doubtful. I am a man sure of my own opinion.”
How he sounded like Henrietta. For some reason, that comforted him. The assertion rang with truth.
“I am an epileptic.”
The doctor’s face did not even twitch. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I want to be cured. I thought perhaps you might know of some procedure...and I am also telling you so that you can see why, though I care deeply for Henrietta, I can never offer her marriage.” Dominic winced. “In a weak moment, I did offer it, but she wisely refused.”
“Ah.” Mr. Gordon leaned back, studying Dominic as though he was a new species. “When did your seizures first begin?”
“A year ago. I was in the accident that killed my brother and his wife. They broke their necks, but all I got was a bump on the head and a lifetime
