Chapter 18 #2
With a voice that felt far too composed for the storm inside her, she said, “You are kind, Dominic. But I think the annulment would be for the best.”
“You do?”
“Yes,” she lied. “I’ll be fine on my own. And you’ll be free to live your life as you see fit.”
He stared at her, baffled. “But I thought you wanted to stay married.”
“I did,” she said, forcing a small smile. “But I’ve changed my mind.”
“I don’t understand.”
She tightened her grip on his hand. “You’re a good man, Dominic. But I won’t trap you in a marriage you didn’t choose. You deserve more. I do, too.”
His brow furrowed deeper. “Why do you think you’re trapping me?”
“Because just as you fear I might one day resent you,” she said, “I fear the same in return. You may feel content with this arrangement now, but what about in five or ten years? When the silence between us becomes too loud, and duty is no longer enough to keep us tied?”
“I don’t believe my feelings would change,” he said.
She reached up and brushed a knuckle over his cheek before letting her hand fall back to her side. “I know you mean that. And I believe you’re trying to do the honorable thing. But sometimes… the honorable thing is walking away.”
“Thea—” he began.
But she raised a hand, stopping him with a soft shake of her head. “Shall we have that biscuit now?”
He paused, his lips parting as if to argue—but then, after a moment, he exhaled and nodded solemnly. “As you wish.”
She turned and moved towards the counter, her back to him.
Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the plate of biscuits.
Every part of her wanted to turn around, to close the distance between them, to fall into his arms and whisper that she loved him.
But she couldn’t. Not when she believed he didn’t feel the same.
And worst of all—she was beginning to believe he never would.
She placed the plate of biscuits on the table and sat down across from him, folding her hands neatly in her lap to keep them from shaking.
Dominic reached into his coat and withdrew two folded pieces of parchment. He laid them carefully on the table between them.
“One of these wills is dated ten years ago,” he said. “The other is much more recent. Just over a year old.”
Dorothea picked up the older of the two. Her eyes scanned the page quickly. “This was my father’s original will,” she said. “Everything… everything was left to my brother.”
Dominic nodded, unfolding the second will and skimming it. His brow creased in concentration before he looked up at her. “But this one,” he said, holding the paper between his fingers, “this will names you as the heir. Everything—his estate, his property—it was all left to you.”
She blinked in disbelief. “Are you quite certain?”
“I am,” he said, sliding the parchment towards her. “It’s explicitly stated. Your father intended for you to inherit everything.”
Her fingers trembled as she took the document and read it. “And my brother?”
“Left only ten thousand pounds,” Dominic replied. “A sizable sum, yes—but nothing compared to the full estate.”
She read over the will again, this time more slowly, her eyes scanning every line. There was no mistake.
Almost one hundred thousand pounds.
It was hers.
She was an heiress.
Dorothea leaned back in her chair, stunned. “I can’t believe this. He… my father always said he would see me taken care of. I just never thought…” Her voice trailed off, thick with emotion. “Not like this.”
Dominic watched her quietly, his expression unreadable.
And though neither of them said it, the truth sat between them, unspoken and weighty: she no longer needed his protection.
And now, the choice to stay or walk away… rested entirely on the heart.
Dorothea gently set the will back down onto the table. “What do we do now?” she asked, her voice threaded with uncertainty.
Dominic leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “We proceed cautiously,” he responded. “This evening, I learned something else—something far more unsettling. Mr. Wells has been working with your brother.”
“That’s awful. You trusted him.”
“I did,” he said. “Which is why it stings all the more.”
He reached forward, gathering the two wills and carefully folding them before tucking them back into the inner pocket of his jacket. “I’ll keep these safe until we’ve secured a new solicitor. One I can trust.”
Dorothea tilted her head. “And how do you intend to find someone trustworthy? If Mr. Wells could be bought—”
“I have friends that I can trust.”
A soft smile curved her lips. “Speaking of your friends… Lady Westcott and Lady Bedford called upon me. They were quite the pair.”
Dominic gave a wry smile. “I’ve never been formally introduced to Lady Westcott, but I admire Lady Bedford. She has a fierceness about her that I’ve always admired.”
“Now my interest is piqued.”
His lips twitched into a half-grin. “She once dressed as a man and stopped a duel.”
“I wish I had seen that. I imagine she made quite the impression.”
“She did,” he responded with a chuckle.
“You should laugh more,” she said. “It suits you.”
Dominic looked at her for a long moment, the smile fading into something more thoughtful. “I suppose I haven’t felt like laughing in a long while,” he admitted. “But when I’m with you… I don’t know. Everything feels a little lighter.”
“I’m glad.”
Leaning forward, Dominic rested his forearms on the table, his eyes never leaving hers. “We need to be smart about this,” he said, his tone growing serious once more. “A great deal is at stake now that we’ve uncovered the truth. Your brother is not going to walk away quietly.”
Her expression sobered. “No. I expect nothing less from him.”
“You’ll need to be strong,” he stated. “The next few weeks may be difficult. He’ll attempt to discredit you. Intimidate you. Possibly even try to turn the courts against you.”
She nodded once, slow and resolute. “I can be strong,” she said.
“I know you can,” Dominic said. “That’s one of the many things I lo…” His voice trailed off.
Dorothea’s heart stalled in her chest. Her eyes searched his face. Was he about to say it? That he loved her?
But then he cleared his throat, the sound abrupt and awkward, as though trying to chase the words back down before they escaped.
“Admire about you,” he finished.
A sharp pang bloomed in her chest, but she forced a smile to her lips. “I see,” she replied, doing her best to disguise the sting behind her composed tone. “Thank you.”
Dominic rose from his chair, the legs scraping softly against the stone floor. He extended a hand towards her. “It’s late,” he said. “Shall we retire for the night?”
Dorothea slipped her hand into his. “Yes… I think that’s wise.”
As they walked quietly through the corridor and up the dimly lit stairs, the house hushed around them, Dominic glanced sideways at her and asked, “Are you happy, Thea?”
“I am,” she responded. “Especially now. I feel as though my father is still looking after me, even from beyond the grave.”
“I am happy for you. You deserve every good that has happened to you,” he said after a moment.
She looked up at him then, her heart aching at the tenderness in his voice. “So do you, Dominic,” she whispered. “Even if you don’t believe it yet.”
He said nothing, but his gaze lingered on hers longer than it should have.
And though no more words were exchanged as they continued up the stairs, something between them had shifted—quietly, irrevocably.