Page 45

O ne week later

William stared at the study’s window. He didn’t see the movements of black shapes on the square—just the raindrops as they formed rivers and coursed down the glass like tears. The steady patter seeped into his consciousness, a monotonous song mimicking the sluggishness of his pulse. The light in the room was dim, damp, and grey.

Dr. Flemming ambled closer, wringing his hands.

William’s breath fogged the glass. He didn’t lift his eyes. “I’m fine. Baines shouldn’t have called you here. He is wasting your time.”

“Your servant is a good man.” The doctor adjusted his monocle. “Can I perform a physical examination? At least to put him at ease?”

William turned his head back to the window. A chill pervaded the room, piercing his skin through layers of clothing, but William ignored it as if he were observing facts from a distance.

Dr. Flemming examined his neck. Too personal. It made William want to push him away. When the doctor leaned forward to check William’s eyes, he kept his eyelids wide open, a perverse part of him wanting the doctor to see the turmoil within so he would stop the questions.

It was a prison. Every time William closed his eyes, he relived that moment when he stood alone in the street and watched her carriage roll away into the night.

Dr. Flemming listened to William’s lungs. The silence in the room was oppressive, and William’s heartbeat pounded in his ears.

“Do you feel difficulty breathing?”

He had not taken a fucking breath since she left. “No.”

I refuse to live half a life.

The words rose in his mind uninvited. William clenched his jaw until the echo dulled.

“Any chest pain?”

William raised his brows. If his chest hurt? That would only be possible if he still had a heart.

"How is your appetite? Have you been exercising?"

Heavy lethargy enveloped him, making each limb feel weighted down. William gazed outside, crossing his arms.

The doctor exhaled audibly. “I can only help you if you speak with me.”

William stared at him, his hands clenching on the armrest.

Doctor Flemming flinched from what he saw in William’s expression.

“Do you want to help? Then tell me how I can bring back the dreams.”

William left the room, banging the door on its hinges. He needed out of the house.

Cavendish was waiting in the foyer.

“I’m not receiving today.” William strode past him, gripping the doorknob before the footman could leave his post.

“Farley knows about Badajoz.”

William’s grip tightened. “I don’t care if he publishes. Let people know what our army is capable of.”

Cavendish’s voice seemed resigned. “Thornley won’t allow him. He plans on raiding the molly’s club tomorrow. I thought you would like to know.”

William opened the door, needing out. “I wash my hands. Farley allowed his passion to consume him. He is on his own.”