The peace lasted exactly twelve hours.
The next morning, Victoria awoke in the nursery to the sound of brisk, efficient footsteps. She expected William. Instead, a tall, severe woman in a starch-white uniform entered. She had grey hair pulled back so tight it pulled at her eyes.
“Good morning, Mrs. Croft,” the woman said, not smiling. “I am Nurse Gretchen. Lady Beatrice has hired me to oversee the remainder of your confinement.”
Victoria sat up, pulling the blanket to her chin. “Where is William?”
“Mr. Croft has been barred from the East Wing during resting hours,” Nurse Gretchen stated, checking a clipboard. “Per Lady Beatrice’s instructions, and Dr. Aris’s recommendations, high-stress interactions are to be minimized. That includes marital relations.”
“This is my husband’s house,” Victoria snapped. “You can’t bar him.”
“I can,” Gretchen said coolly. “If the safety of the heir is in question. You have been through a trauma. You require absolute isolation and quiet.”
The door opened, and William strode in, looking furious. “What is this? The security codes have been changed.”
“William,” Lady Beatrice’s voice drifted in from the hallway. She stood at the threshold, leaning on her cane, looking victorious. “Nurse Gretchen comes with the highest recommendation from the Royal College. She is here to ensure we have a live baby at the end of this debacle. Unless you want another… incident?”
She gestured to the bruising on Victoria’s arm from the struggle with Seraphina.
“The girl attracts chaos, William,” Beatrice said coldly. “Gretchen is the order. You will sleep in the Master Suite. Victoria will remain here. No visitors after 8:00 PM. We are protecting the legacy.”
William looked at Victoria. He wanted to throw them out. But the fear of losing the baby–the fear that Victoria *was* under too much stress–paralyzed him.
“Fine,” William gritted out. “But if she calls for me, I am coming in. Codes or no codes.”
Beatrice smiled thinly. “Of course.”