Please Forget Me - Chapter 373

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

By the time the doctor helped me into the Loveridge family car parked in front of the cathedral, the Marquis had already caught up to us. He grabbed the doctor by the shoulder. The doctor paused before getting in, turned back, and asked calmly,

“Do you have something to say?”

The Marquis didn’t answer. He only ground his teeth, glaring as though he wanted to tear the doctor apart.

“Then you don’t. In that case, we’ll meet next time in court.”

He brushed the Marquis’s hand off as lightly as one would flick away a fallen leaf, got into the car, and slammed the door shut.

The car pulled away at once. The Marquis, staring after us as though he wanted to burn us alive with his gaze, grew smaller and smaller until he disappeared around the corner.

‘I really escaped that fraud….’

I kept blinking, unable to believe it. No matter how many times I blinked, the scene didn’t change. Me fleeing a wedding hall in a wedding dress. Even so, it felt unreal.

‘Wasn’t this man on their side?’

I looked at the doctor beside me, who was staring straight ahead with unwavering eyes, and asked,

“Is this a dream?”

“No. It’s real.”

Perhaps my question amused him; he let out a small laugh. He closed his eyes tightly, not because the laughter lingered, but for another reason.

“I should have acted like a father much sooner. I’m sorry.”

“……”

“Dana, Fath—no, I…”

“Still… thank you, Father.”

Only then did I give up resisting the pull of the d***s and lean against his shoulder. His arm came around me gently. Just as I let myself drift into sleep, I heard a murmured voice, thick with emotion.

“Yes. This is enough for me. No, more than enough.”

* * *

By the time I finally regained my freedom, everything was already over.

Mother was on the verge of being discharged, and the rumor that Dr. Loveridge had dragged you out of the wedding hall spread so widely it vaulted even the high walls of the prison. I knew about it before I ever stepped outside.

When I was released, your face wasn’t among those who came to greet me. I went straight to the Loveridge estate that day, but they wouldn’t open the door.

“The young lady is not here.”

“Then where is she?”

“I’m very sorry, but the doctor instructed us not to tell anyone.”

That night, as despair closed in, I received a letter from Dr. Loveridge.

[To the honorable Sir Killian Ackroyd,
Please accept my apologies for not visiting you in person and for introducing myself by letter.]

That wasn’t the only thing he apologized for. He even apologized for entrusting you to me after you were wounded and stranded in enemy territory. Though I still don’t understand why that warranted an apology.

He also apologized for what your grandmother did to my mother. That matter had already been settled, the doctor had gone to her in person, apologized, and taken responsibility for her treatment. He must have known that wasn’t why I sought him out.

The words I longed to hear about you amounted to just one sentence.

[I will personally ensure Dana’s safety. Please trust me and wait quietly until the legal matters are resolved.]

Yes. There was still something unfinished.

You were still another man’s wife, and I was still a clergyman. My desire to know that you were safe had driven me to act rashly.

I returned to my place and began preparing a place for you. The first step was removing my priestly robes.

Having broken my vows of chastity and celibacy and taken up arms to kill, I deserved to be stripped of my priesthood. Yet the diocese showed leniency, allowing me to leave the order of my own accord. And so, at last, I became someone who could hold you without committing another sin.

Still, it would take much longer before you became someone who could rest safely in my arms.

The annulment suit began that winter. Because the opposing party was such a vile man, it devolved almost instantly into a far dirtier, more vicious quagmire than I had anticipated.

At first, Rupert tried to have the suit dismissed entirely, painting you as a woman who had lost her judgment due to a head injury. When that failed, he shifted tactics, claiming you were a heartless woman abandoning your husband after he became disabled.

By the turn of the year, your name began appearing in gossip sheets. Every one of them depicted you as a vain, man-crazy harlot.