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This was going badly. Very, very badly. She had never seen him this way.

In three great steps, he crossed the room towards the mantelpiece and grabbed a beautiful porcelain vase with freshly picked snow drops in it. With his eyes bulging and his mouth contorted into a fierce scowl, teeth bared, Dorian grasped the object and hurled it into the large mirror above the gilded mantelpiece. The mirror and vase shattered.

Patience shrieked. He was going to kill himself!

The spray of glass and porcelain went through the room like a storm. There were many flashes of light as the mirror broke into hundreds of sharp pieces, showering straight on him.

Patience covered herself instinctively, but the next moment, she was on her feet and dashing towards him.

Dorian stood in the pieces of glass with his back to her, breathing hard but not moving, and when he turned, she gasped in horror. There were several shallow cuts all over his face like a map of thin lines. But one was long, and a streak of blood rolled down from the cut. It was on the side of his face, from his temple down to his jawline, and a very small piece of glass was still stuck at the bottom of the cut.

“Dorian!” She couldn’t stop the angry, terrified notes in her voice, and for the first time didn’t want to retract it with an apology. “You could have killed yourself!”

“Step back, Patience,” he said. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

It was the first time he had addressed her by her name, and oh how she liked it, even in these terrible circumstances.

But she didn’t step back. On the contrary, she walked through the carnage, with shards of porcelain and mirrored glass sparkling on the furniture, stuck in the upholstery of the chairs and the settee. Pieces crunched under her shoes as she made her way towards him.

“No, step back,” he repeated.

Footsteps hurried towards the room, and Mrs. Knight and several footmen barged in.

“Duchess, please step away,” said Mrs. Knight, who didn’t show her distress with anything but a fleeting, terrified look, and was already on her determined way towards Dorian, lifting her skirts slightly.

“No,” Patience said, surprised at the determination in her own voice, causing shocked glances from everyone. Perhaps she had spoken too harshly. “No,” she said once again, softer. “I will not step away from my husband. Come, Duke, I’ll take care of your cuts. Mrs. Knight, please call for a physician, I’m sure the duke has one?”

“Of course,” said Mrs. Knight after a short pause and a questioning glance at Dorian. “The duke’s medicinal basket is right here.”

To Patience’s surprise, the housekeeper went into one of the cabinets of the sideboard and retrieved a wooden box, which she handed to Patience.

“We keep one in every room of the house,” said Mrs. Knight.

Patience held the basket in one hand and took Dorian under his elbow like a child.

“Come, Duke.”

She ached to call him Dorian, like he’d called her Patience, but didn’t dare.

He grumbled, “Do not fuss over me. And there’s no need for a doctor, Mrs. Knight, I’m fine. I’m perfectly capable of tending to my own wounds, I’ve done this for most of my life.”

Most of his life? Oh God, the image of the broken glasshouse came to mind, and she imagined small Dorian trying to sew his own cuts.

“In every room?” Patience glanced at Mrs. Knight, who stood next to the footmen with a perfectly neutral face, though there was worry in her eyes.

“I’m afraid his grace is prone to…accidents.”

Accidents…coming from outbursts of rage. Has he always been tending to himself? Did he never let anyone touch him?

Has he ever hurt others in one of his rages? she wondered with a slight chill down her back. Were the servants or his sister in any danger from him? Was she?

She remembered how safe she had felt in his arms even after he’d taught her the pleasures of being spanked, which was surely a barbaric thing to happen between two people. But even the way he had slapped her bottom was tender, in every single slap she didn’t feel violence. She felt his desire to please her. To bring her pleasure and not pain.

“All right,” said Patience. “Still, let us go and I’ll take a look at you.”

“That would be best, Your Grace,” said Mrs. Knight, though she didn’t meet Patience’s eyes after Dorian opened his mouth to protest. “I’ll make sure the sitting room is taken care of as soon as possible.”

Dorian looked at the hundreds, maybe thousands, of shards around the floor and furniture and nodded.