Page 75 of When She Was a Governess
Dr. Morrison’s sanatorium.
God, he’d hoped to never hear those words again. The shame of it burned through him like acid. Six months of his life locked away because he’d been too broken to function. Too weak to handle his own grief.
He poured another whiskey. Drank it faster.
Sophia’s face when his mother revealed it—the shock, the confusion. She’d tried to hide it but he could see how shocked she’d been. Blindsided. How could she not be? He should have told her. Should have been honest about how damaged he was.
A man who once tried to follow his first love into the sea.
His mother’s words echoed in his head. She’d made it sound like he’d actively attempted suicide, which wasn’t quite true. But it was close enough. He had gone to those cliffs night after night. Had stood at the edge, looking down at the rocks and churning water where Eleanor had died. Had wondered what it would be like to simply step off. To stop feeling this crushing weight of guilt and grief.
Davies had found him there one night. Had seen the look on his face and known. He’d called Edward, Henry’s brother, who had come right away. When he arrived, he’d told Henry about a rest home for nervous disorders. Henry had agreed to go. In fact, he’d begged Edward to take him.
Henry poured a third whiskey with shaking hands.
What had he been thinking, marrying Sophia? Bringing her into this mess of a family, this broken version of a life? She was a duke’s daughter. She deserved someone whole, someone without this darkness lurking beneath the surface.
And now his mother was going to try to take Amelia.
The solicitors, the custody battle, dragging everything out into the open—his breakdown, his time at the sanatorium, every shameful moment of his grief. They’d make him look unfit. Unstable. Dangerous.
And maybe they’d be right.
He slumped into the chair by the fire, the whiskey glass dangling from his fingers. The room was spinning slightly. Good. He wanted oblivion. Wanted to stop thinking about Sophia’sface, about the legal battle ahead, about the fact that he’d just ruined everything.
She’d married him thinking he was someone worth loving. Someone strong enough to protect her and Amelia. But he wasn’t that man. He was broken. Had always been broken. His mother had just finally exposed it.
The fire burned lower. Henry poured another drink but didn’t bother drinking it. Just sat there in the darkness, staring at nothing, feeling the weight of his failures press down on him.
Sophia deserved better. Amelia deserved better. They’d be better off without him.
The thought slid through his whiskey-soaked mind like poison, and he was too tired, too drunk and too defeated to fight it.
Chapter Sixteen
Sophia couldn’t sitstill. She paced her bedchamber, still in her dinner gown, her mind spinning with everything that had happened. The dinner. Constance’s cruelty. The revelation about the sanatorium. Henry’s face when his mother exposed his deepest shame. And then he’d pushed her away.
I need to be alone.
She understood. Of course she understood. He was humiliated, exposed, vulnerable. But every instinct screamed at her that leaving him alone was the worst possible thing she could do.
A soft knock at the door made her turn. “Come in.”
Mrs. Shaw entered, her face etched with concern. “My lady. I came to help you undress.” She paused, taking in Sophia’s pacing, her obvious distress. “Though I can see you’re not ready to retire.”
“I can’t.” Sophia pressed her hands to her face. “Mrs. Shaw, did you… did the servants hear what happened at dinner?”
“Some of it, my lady.” Mrs. Shaw’s voice was gentle. “Word travels quickly below stairs. We know the Earl and Countess left rather abruptly.”
“His mother—she said terrible things. Revealed things about Henry’s past that he hadn’t told me. Things that humiliated him.” Sophia’s voice broke. “And now he won’t let me near him. He sent me away.”
Mrs. Shaw moved closer. “Where is he now?”
“His study, I assume. Alone. Perhaps drinking.” Sophia looked at her maid helplessly. “I don’t know what to do. He asked me to give him time. But Mrs. Shaw, I’m afraid of what happens if I leave him alone with those thoughts.”
“Then don’t.”
“What?”
