Chapter Twenty #2
She hadn’t written him. Dom suspected she hadn’t had time and that the Van Arsdales had sprung this on her much as they had
him. He only hoped they hadn’t forced her to abandon something important at her Berlin conference.
“I need to speak to my sister.”
“Surely you can when we return.” Miss Van Arsdale tipped her head. “It’s only a couple of days, Dominic. Papa has engaged
several reporters. You must meet with them and explain the marvelous discovery of the buckle.”
Dom stared at her a moment intently. She knew exactly who’d found that buckle and the last time she’d encountered Tess.
“This is in your contract, Prince,” the American titan reminded him. “Your availability, at our pleasure, to speak with the
press about the dig, its progress, and its finds.” Van Arsdale pointed a beringed finger at the tabletop. “We must do this
now before rumors about what we’ve found begin to spread. Never let whispers get ahead of you.”
For a brief, reckless moment, Dom considered ending it all. Breaking his contract with the Van Arsdales. Walking away from the dig. Reshaping his life into something new. A life with Tess at the center of it.
But would she want that?
Her own scandal haunted her. Could he drag her into another? Because he felt certain the Van Arsdales wouldn’t just let him
go. They’d make it ugly. They’d pull her into it. How could they not? She had found the buckle they prized so much.
He ran a hand through his hair, gripped the back of his neck, forming the words. Deciding how he’d tell them he wanted nothing
more to do with their brand of treasure seeking.
Then he dropped his gaze to the telegram staring up at him from the center of the table.
Eve. They’d been partners for years. Any choice he made would touch her reputation too. And she deserved the chance to be a part
of this excavation. It was already proving to be exactly as valuable as she’d suspected it would.
“I need time to prepare before I depart.”
Van Arsdale scoffed. “Do you have so very much to pack for two days away?”
“I want to visit the site. Speak to my foreman—”
“Make it quick, Prince,” Van Arsdale put in before Dom could finish. He gestured for his daughter to hand over a ticket. “We’ll
see you at the station in an hour.”
Miss Van Arsdale plucked a slip from her reticule with dramatic flair and offered it to Dom. “Don’t be late, Dominic.”
Dom nearly burst out of the inn’s door and decided to walk the distance to Foxdene Cottage. He needed air. He needed to burn
off the frustration that any interaction with the Van Arsdales seemed to spark.
No other patronage had ever made him feel so owned.
So much as if he was little more than a puppet pulled by another’s strings.
But it also made it abundantly clear to him that he would be replaceable in the Van Arsdales’ minds.
They didn’t value his experience, his knowledge, his passion for the past. They valued the legend. The caricature.
He needed to speak to Eve almost as much as he wanted to talk to Tess.
He decided he’d pen her a note if he had time for the Randalls to give to her upon her arrival.
As the bright pink and purple primroses that lined Foxdene’s front path came into view, the irritation in Dom’s chest began
to ebb. When she appeared, everything else faded.
Tess stepped onto the cottage’s front path, bonnet in hand, her honey-blond hair catching the morning light.
She turned and spotted him, her lips curving into something that seemed like relief.
“We have this habit,” she said as he approached. “Of always seeking each other out at the same time.”
“I’m fond of it,” he murmured. “Let’s keep doing it.” Every day, if he had his way.
“Shall we walk?”
“Of course. Do you have a destination in mind?”
“I was going to speak to Lord Fenbridge, but I’m not on any timetable.” She pointed toward the field where she’d gone to think
just the previous morning. “Let’s just amble in that direction.”
Dom offered his arm. When she took it, something in him slid satisfyingly into place. As if Tess was the missing piece that
made everything else make sense.
“I realized this morning how I’d put you in a terrible position,” she said when they were wading through the tall grass. “I
didn’t think it through.”
“I know.” He glanced at her, exhaled, and felt the last of the tension in him unravel. “They were at the inn this morning when I came down.”
She closed her eyes. “Because of me?”
“No,” he said firmly. “You did nothing wrong. We did nothing wrong.”
Tess watched him, her brow furrowing. “Why were they there?”
Dom slowed his steps, gaze fixed ahead, as if the horizon might offer an answer. But there was only the open field, the wind
stirring the tall grass, the hush of morning settling between them.
He didn’t want to say it.
Not now. Not when she was beside him, her arm resting so easily against his, like she belonged there. Like they belonged together.
Not when there was so much left unsaid between them. He worried distance would cause her to doubt again.
But there was no sense in delaying the inevitable.
“I have to go to London.” His voice came quiet, but firm. “With the Van Arsdales.”
Tess stopped walking, withdrew her arm.
He felt the absence of her touch like a coldness creeping over his skin.
“Oh.” Her voice emerged as a soft exhale.
There was no anger. Just that one syllable, almost as if she’d been expecting this moment. And she had, of course. Hadn’t
she insisted he’d leave?
But that wasn’t what this was, and he needed to make her understand.
Dom turned to face her fully. “It’s only for a couple of days. Nothing will change, and we’ll pick up right from this moment
when I return.”
Tess held his gaze, a flicker of doubt in her green eyes.
She swallowed hard. “You don’t sound as if you want to go.”
“Of course I don’t. Hell, I didn’t even want to part from you last night.” He held his breath a moment. “But my contract—”
She glanced away, toward the field where she’d stood the morning before, no doubt questioning everything. When her gaze met
his again, her expression was carefully composed.
“I do understand, and a couple of days isn’t long.”
It would certainly feel like it to Dom, and he feared she’d erect barriers in the meantime. He already wanted to tear them
down.
He wanted to say, Forget the goddamned contract. Forget the Van Arsdales. Forget London. I’ll stay.
But Eve deserved this dig. And Tess deserved more than being pulled into whatever scandal and censure that might result from
him breaking with the Van Arsdales.
“It won’t change anything between us, Tess. It won’t change what I feel for you.”
A flicker of something crossed her face. Hope, he thought. But then, just as quickly, it was gone.
Tess gave him a small, aching smile. “I fear I’ve put us on opposing sides now.”
“You haven’t. I understand why you don’t wish to take their money or dig under their auspices. But Eve and I are bound to
them, and they’ve funded all our work thus far.”
“There’s more though.” She hesitated, bit her lip, and then admitted, “I’ve urged Lord Fenbridge to break with them. To take
control of the dig himself.”
Dom didn’t think that could happen. Van Arsdale’s lawyers were legendary, his contracts were notoriously entangling, and they’d
already claimed ownership of the most valuable piece yet uncovered.
“You don’t want Fenbridge to?” she asked, one tawny brow arched as if in challenge.
“I don’t think it’s possible for him to, Tess.”
She stepped back, and Dom had the sudden, gut-wrenching realization that she was already pulling away. It wasn’t because of
the dig; she was preparing herself for some break between them that she’d always foreseen.
“I should go,” she said softly.
He wanted to stop her. To tell her that her leaving the dig and his trip to London were irrelevant. He wanted her, regardless of all the rest. He wanted to tell her that he was going to London with every intention of coming back to her,
and he’d count the hours until he did. This wasn’t goodbye.
But she’d tell him not to overpromise. Promises wouldn’t reassure Tess. He needed to prove himself with actions, and regardless
of what he said, he had to part from her today. Only when he came back would she know, and God, he prayed she’d believe him
and let him love her.
So he let her go.
As she turned and walked away, the wind carried the scent of primroses, and Dom had never hated the smell of spring more.