“You lost a lot of blood, Lord Billington,” he said. “And you were terribly injured. You were stabbed in the abdomen five times, and your face was cut to ribbons. You are lucky to be alive.”
Albert nodded slowly, closing his eyes as the room spun again. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the pain before he spoke again.
“Will I live?” he croaked.
The physician looked at his stomach, then back at his face.
“I believe you have a good chance now,” he said. “This time yesterday, I would have suggested to your family that they get your affairs in order. Your wounds became terribly infected, and your fever spiked yesterday. But it seems to be breaking completely today, and you are finally coherent.”
Albert nodded, and he started to relax. Then, fear shot him upright in bed, despite the tilting world around him.
“Cordelia,” he choked, grabbing weakly at the blankets.
The doctor pushed him back, a little more forcefully, giving him a gentle smile.
“Your fiancée is just fine,” he said. “She was saved by a passing carriage. According to her, she flagged down the carriage, onboard which were two gentlemen leaving the same party you two did. They chased off the highwaymen who attacked you, and then they escorted the two of you back here. She herself came for me, in a panicked state. So, I can assure you that she is perfectly fine.”
Albert felt tears of relief sting his eyes. But as soon as they rolled down his wounded cheek, he growled in pain.
The physician gave him a pleading look.
“Please, you must relax and lie back,” he said. “You are still in very critical condition. The next few days are crucial to your recovery. Let me give you something for the pain, so you will be more comfortable. I must tend to these wounds, too. The scarring is already terrible. If these infected wounds do not heal quickly, it will be even worse.”
Albert tried to relax, grateful when the physician gently put the needle in his arm.
“This will help with your pain and your nerves,” he said. “Just breathe deeply. It shouldn’t take long to take hold.”
Albert nodded, eager for the effects of the medicine. He recalled what the physician had said, about scars.
“Scars?” he asked. His throat felt like it was full of hot sand and speaking turned that sand into jagged glass. “Will they heal?”
The doctor froze, looking at Albert with wide eyes just long enough for Albert to become concerned. He opened his mouth to try to repeat his question, but the medicine started working right in that moment.
The physician eventually sighed and dropped his head. Albert’s eyelids were growing heavy, but he could see the defeat on the doctor’s face.
“The knife tore through every layer of skin on your face,” he said. “It barely missed your facial muscles. I had to sew on your flesh in a couple of places, as it was peeled back and exposing muscle. I’m terribly sorry, my lord. I am certain that the scarring is permanent.”
Those were the last words Albert heard before slipping back into the darkness. And his last thoughts before deep slumber claimed him were prayers that Cordelia would still love him.
Two days later, Albert dragged himself out of bed, against the physician’s advice, and dressed with the help of his valet. He ordered a carriage to be prepared, and an hour later, he arrived at the home of his beloved. He struggled with every step, but he dragged himself up to her doorstep, with the footmen watching him carefully from the coach.
He ignored the horrified expression on the butler’s face, smiling brightly through the pain when his dear fiancée approached the door. But when her expression turned into one matching that of the butler, Albert’s heart fell.
Cordelia stared at him, shaking her head slowly for seconds that felt like hours. When she finally did speak, she did so stepping away from Albert, holding up her hand to keep him at bay.
“Is that permanent?” she asked, refusing to look at her fiancé again.
Albert nodded, sighing heavily.
“It is,” he croaked. “But it won’t stop me from loving you. I still want to share my life with you, Cordelia. If you’ll have me.”
But Albert knew her answer before she even spoke. She shielded her eyes, looking at him for the last time with a look of pure revulsion and terror.
“There will be no wedding, Albert,” she said. “There will never be a wedding.”
Albert’s blood began rushing in his ears as his heart began to race, but he heard Cordelia repeat herself, telling him how she couldn’t be with him, how she could never marry him. When she turned and fled from the door, he reached weakly for her. But the butler closed the door in his face, leaving him standing there with tears pouring from his eyes and burning his desiccated cheek.
He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at the door, before he turned and stumbled his way back to the carriage. His footmen had to help him in the coach, and then inside the house, after which they summoned the physician. But he was already fast asleep again by the time the doctor arrived, and lost in horrible dreams of Cordelia saying one thing, on repeat:There will be no wedding, Albert…
