Fortunately, he soon regained normal breathing.

“Doctor MacKenzie, if I were you, I’d trust a horse’s four legs over my own two.”

“I had a ride.”

He wiped his sweat-soaked forehead with a handkerchief.

“That foolish little boy drove the carriage into the mud, and the wheels got stuck in the ground. With no saddle, I couldn’t ride the horse either, so I was traveling on foot.”

Ian turned his gaze toward the boy Doctor MacKenzie had called “that foolish little boy.” The child, who didn’t even look twelve, was sobbing with a face smeared with tears and snot.

Ian handed him a handkerchief and asked, “Is your mother in serious condition?”

The boy wiped his nose with the handkerchief and nodded.

“Don’t worry. This man saved my sister when she was near death.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. Your mother will surely recover.”

“Unless she’s already passed by the time we reach the house, that is.”

Doctor MacKenzie’s cold remark rendered Ian’s warm words of comfort meaningless. The boy’s face paled. Ian shot him a sharp look, but Doctor MacKenzie remained unfazed.

“I just thought it worth mentioning that I don’t have the power to raise the dead.”

Ian clicked his tongue. He acknowledged Doctor MacKenzie’s skill as a physician and devotion to his wife, but as a person, he was utterly unlikable. Cold, blunt to the point of irritation (though he restrained himself around women), and painfully honest, he was, in a word, insufferable.

As if to stoke Ian’s irritation further, Doctor MacKenzie pulled a square box from his breast pocket. It was a copper cigarette case.

He opened the lid and offered it to Ian. “Care for a smoke?”

Ian shook his head.

“Go ahead and smoke.”

“No thanks.”

“Come now, just one?”

“I said no. Why do you keep insisting?”

“Because if the carriage owner smokes, I, the passenger, can smoke too.”

Ian waved his hand dismissively, his irritation clear. “I haven’t smoked in a while. Don’t provoke me, just put it away.”

“Fair enough. Quitting’s probably for the best. You’ll want to live long enough to see your heir.”

Doctor MacKenzie closed the cigarette case.

Seeing the cigarettes after so long made Ian crave a smoke intensely. Feeling irritable, he stared out the window.

“How is Mrs. Dalton faring?”

“My wife is well.”

“Is she pregnant?”

Ian’s gaze snapped to Doctor MacKenzie. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t know Mrs. Dalton came to my cottage for a consultation?”

Ian’s puzzled expression caused Doctor MacKenzie’s brow to furrow. “Oh, it seems she kept it a secret.”

“…”

“She visited twice, once in spring and once in autumn. The first time, she was worried she might be unable to conceive. Recently, she came to confirm if she might be pregnant.”

Ian’s face hardened rapidly.

The fact that the lord’s mood had plummeted was obvious not only to Doctor MacKenzie but even to little Dawson, who was preoccupied with worry for his mother.

Little Dawson grew anxious, fearing the lord might, in his anger, order them to get off the carriage. Though known for his kindness to the locals, the lord’s current demeanor was far harsher than his reputation suggested.

Little Dawson shrank into a corner of the carriage, trying not to draw the lord’s attention.

“What did my wife do at your cottage?”

“As I said, she sought a diagnosis regarding pregnancy.”

“My wife isn’t the kind to keep secrets from me.”

“Believe it or not, it’s the truth.”

Ian gritted his teeth. “If this turns out to be a lie, I’ll make sure you never practice medicine in Yorkshire again.”

“Do as you please. I don’t turn away patients who beg for help, even in my hidden valley retreat. I’m already retired in name, and my memory is sharp—I’m confident in that.”

The old doctor responded with infuriating calm.

Ian narrowed his brow, staring out the window with a complicated expression.

Laura visiting a women’s doctor behind my back?

It was something he’d never imagined. Laura had never shown any particular anxiety about children.

Whenever they attended a village christening after a child’s birth, Ian would watch Laura closely, concerned she might feel upset. But Laura always celebrated the child’s arrival with serene composure, showing no trace of envy. On the way home, she’d comment lightly about how cute the baby was before changing the subject.

I thought I was the only one desperate for a child.

If she had been struggling with this alone, nothing could be more heartbreaking. Knowing her, she was likely blaming herself.

After a moment, Ian spoke. “What was Laura’s state when she visited? Emotionally, I mean.”

“She was in poor spirits. She was acutely aware of her age and felt immense pressure about not having a child. Recently, she came to the cottage in a frenzy, convinced she was pregnant after missing one cycle. It’s typical behavior for women fixated on conception.”

“…When was that?”

“Around the sixth of last month.”

October 6th. The day Laura’s cycle began.

Ian remembered it clearly. That morning, Laura had left with just a brief note and returned elated. She’d kissed him first, beaming with joy.

That evening, she pushed away her husband’s wandering hands, informing him her cycle had started. She smiled, but her face was pale.

Laura’s condition always dipped after her cycle began, but in hindsight, there was something else.

That day, Laura carried the scent of despair.

Ian’s face twisted. He’d found it odd at the time but let it pass since she seemed reluctant to talk. He shouldn’t have. Her heart must have soared to the heavens only to crash down.

And yet, she showed nothing in front of me…

The carriage stopped in front of the mill. Little Dawson jumped out, thanking God for safely bringing Doctor MacKenzie. The doctor grabbed his medical bag and delivered a final jab to Ian.

“Mrs. Dalton was worried she couldn’t give you a child. I told her to stop tormenting herself, and she cried like a child. My lord, not everything is as it seems. She may appear happy, but inside, another woman writhes in fear.”

With that, Doctor MacKenzie leapt from the carriage with agility belying his age and hurried to the cottage behind the mill.

With no further instructions, the carriage resumed its journey toward the train station.

Laura, secretly struggling, terrified she can’t bear a child?

Ian felt as though he’d been struck hard in the face with a stone fist.

He clenched his fists. His heart ached for her suffering alone, but he also felt hurt. The idea of her hiding something from him was upsetting, especially since it was about children.

What were you thinking, Laura? There’s nothing a husband and wife should discuss before anything else like the matter of children. Why could you bare your soul to that icy wall of a Doctor MacKenzie but not seek comfort in my arms?

Ian buried his face in his hands. A headache throbbed, and his chest simmered. His hurt quickly turned to guilt for failing to notice Laura’s pain.

Damn it, I’ve been living with my eyes closed. Drunk on my own happiness.

Ian rubbed his face and looked up. The carriage had left the village and was climbing the hillside.

I need to talk to Laura.

He checked the time on his pocket watch.

Three o’clock.

The last train was at five. If he didn’t go now, he’d miss it. Still, he could catch a night train from the neighboring area without disrupting his schedule.

He shouted to the coachman, “Turn the carriage to Whitefield.”

Crackle. Crackle.

The flames in the fireplace consumed the logs, dancing toward the sky.

Laura sat on a sofa in front of the study’s fireplace. Her only adornments were her neatly pinned auburn hair and her eyes, which reflected the firelight, glowing gold. The chiffon dress she’d worn to see her husband off had been replaced by a plain brown cotton dress, and her jewelry now rested in her small jewel box.

It was fitting to dress simply before the man she was expecting.

Laura anticipated Henry’s visit soon. His absence over the past three days was likely due to the rain. The path between the two estates was uneven, making travel difficult in the wet, and Henry likely knew Ian might stay home with the horses tied up.

Now the rain had stopped, and the weather had cleared. Henry would surely come today or tomorrow. He wasn’t one to dawdle. He also knew that once Ian’s visits to Leeds ended, he wouldn’t leave Whitefield often.

The hall’s grandfather clock chimed three. Shortly after the sound faded, a knock came at the study door.

“Madam, Master Henry has arrived.”

“Let him in.”

Soon, steady footsteps approached, and Henry entered the room, dressed in an ivory suit.

Henry removed his hat and bowed. His face looked pale, as though he’d been under great strain.

“Good day, Aunt.”

Laura nodded and addressed the maid standing by the entrance. “You may leave. No refreshments are needed.”

The maid curtsied and left the study.

A heavy silence filled the room, now occupied by just the two of them. Laura gave a smile as awkward as the atmosphere and gestured to her nephew. “Come, sit here.”