Chapter 9
Dorothea stirred beneath the weight of warm blankets, her mind sluggish as though emerging from a thick fog.
A dull ache lingered behind her eyes, and for a moment, she couldn’t tell whether it was morning or night.
The room was cloaked in shadow, with only the faintest sliver of light leaking through the drawn curtains.
Somewhere in the room, the clock chimed once, a hollow, echoing tone that made her blink. What time was it? How long had she been asleep?
Her lashes fluttered open, vision blurring slightly before focusing on the carved wood of a canopy overhead—one she didn’t recognize. Panic bloomed quietly in her chest. This wasn’t her bed. This wasn’t her room.
She turned her head slowly. Just a few feet away, in a high-backed chair pushed against the wall, sat Dominic. His head lolled to one side, chin tilted upward as he slept, arms crossed loosely across his chest. His mouth hung slightly open, a soft snore rising and falling in the quiet.
Her anxiety eased, replaced with a kind of puzzled wonder. Her eyes wandered around the room and she realized that she was in his bedchamber. She glanced down. She was tucked beneath a thick coverlet, dressed in her nightgown. Nothing seemed amiss, and yet she remembered none of it.
What had happened last night?
Then it struck her—laudanum. She’d taken it to ease the lingering cold. It always sent her into an unnaturally deep sleep, but this time it must have dulled her awareness entirely.
Still, she felt better. Her head was clearer, her limbs lighter. The congestion was gone. She was herself again. Almost.
Her gaze drifted back to Dominic, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He looked so peaceful in sleep, far from the guarded, distant man he often became in her presence.
For a fleeting moment, she considered letting him rest. But questions burned in her mind, and he was the only one who could answer them.
“Dominic,” she called out, her voice little more than a whisper.
He stirred, a slight twitch of his shoulders, before his eyes fluttered open. He blinked as though unsure of where he was, then locked eyes with her.
“You’re awake,” he said, the disbelief clear in his voice. He leaned forward, eyes searching hers as though needing to confirm it wasn’t a dream.
“I am,” she replied. “But I don’t understand. What happened last night?”
Rubbing a hand through his tousled hair, Dominic looked away briefly, as if gathering the right words.
“The maid… she forgot to open the damper before lighting the fire in your room. By the time I noticed the smoke, it had filled the chamber. You were sound asleep. You didn’t even stir when I called your name. ”
“I had taken laudanum,” she explained. “For my cold.”
“I was told as much,” he said with a nod. “But in the moment”—his voice caught slightly—“I was terrified. You weren’t responding. I thought you might never wake up.”
A small smile curved her lips as she attempted to lighten the situation. “Well, you’re stuck with me. I’m not so easy to get rid of.”
Dominic didn’t smile. His gaze was heavy with emotion—guilt, perhaps, or something even more difficult to name. “That’s not the least bit funny,” he murmured. “I thought I’d lost you.”
He stood abruptly, as though the moment had grown too intimate. “I should fetch the doctor. He’ll want to examine you.”
“The doctor is here?”
“Yes. I sent for him last night. Everyone’s been waiting for you to wake.”
She looked towards the clock on the mantel. “What time is it?”
He followed her gaze. “Almost noon.”
Her brows shot up. “I’ve slept half the day away. I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”
Dominic returned to his chair but didn’t sit. Instead, he rested a hand on the bedpost and studied her. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m just relieved you’re all right.”
The gentleness in his tone caught her off guard. It was the same tone he’d used the day before in the gardens—the one that made her feel seen.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For saving me… again.”
A trace of a smile touched his lips. “I will always save you.”
She held his gaze, her breath catching at the sincerity in his words. “I know.” And she meant it. She trusted him in a way she didn’t entirely understand.
Something shifted in that silence. Something unspoken but unmistakable. The air between them seemed to hum, charged with emotion neither of them dared voice.
A knock interrupted the moment, and the door creaked open to reveal Mrs. Cameron. Her eyes immediately softened when she saw Dorothea awake.
“My lady,” she breathed, stepping into the room. “Thank heavens. The entire household has been beside itself with worry.”
“I’m sorry,” Dorothea said, flushing with guilt. “I didn’t mean to frighten everyone.”
“Oh, pish-posh.” Mrs. Cameron waved a hand. “You’ve done no such thing. Though I should tell you that Sally has been dismissed for her carelessness. She claimed she didn’t realize the damper was closed.”
Dorothea’s brows drew together as she began to sit up. Dominic was at her side in an instant, placing a steadying hand on her back.
“Careful,” he said.
She gave him a grateful glance before turning back to the housekeeper. “I don’t want her dismissed. It was an accident.”
Mrs. Cameron didn’t look convinced. “A rather dangerous one. You could have died.”
“Which is why I think reassignment is fair,” Dorothea said. “She should not be punished so harshly for one mistake.”
Mrs. Cameron hesitated, then sighed. “Very well. You’re too kind for your own good, my lady. But I’ll see to it.”
Dominic reached for a pillow and placed it behind her. “You should rest a while longer.”
Dorothea gave him a mock glare. “I’m not an invalid, you know.”
Instead of arguing, Dominic only smiled. “I know. But even the strongest need time to recover.”
She studied him for a moment, warmed by his attention. It felt nice to have someone fuss over her. Especially him.
“Very well,” she relented, leaning back into the pillows. “But only because you asked so nicely.”
“Mrs. Cameron,” he said, turning towards the housekeeper, “inform Doctor Taylor at once that Lady Warwicke is awake. He’ll want to examine her.”
Mrs. Cameron dipped her head with brisk efficiency. “Yes, my lord,” she said. Without another word, she exited the chamber, her footsteps fading as the door clicked shut behind her.
Silence settled briefly over the room.
Dorothea shifted slightly beneath the blankets, her gaze drifting towards the adjoining door that led back to her own bedchamber. “Should I return to my room now?”
“That would not be wise. Your bedchamber still reeks of smoke. The windows are open, but it needs more time to be properly aired out.”
“Oh,” she said, then looked up at him, uncertain. “Then where am I to sleep?”
“In here.”
Her eyes widened, startled by the suggestion. “With… you?”
Dominic’s mouth twitched, almost—but not quite—a smile. “No,” he replied. “I had one of the guest rooms prepared for me earlier this morning. I’ll be sleeping there for the time being.”
Dorothea hesitated, staring at him. Her heart beat a little faster, her fingers nervously curling against the blanket. Then, with a steadiness she didn’t quite feel, she asked, “Would it be so terrible if we… shared a bedchamber?”
Dominic’s jaw visibly clenched. His eyes dropped from hers, his face tightening with something she couldn’t quite decipher.
“I…” He drew in a breath, as if bracing himself. “It would be, considering I’m seeking—”
The door opened abruptly, halting his words mid-sentence.
A short man stepped into the room, his blond hair neatly combed and spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. He carried a well-worn leather bag in one hand.
“Lady Warwicke,” he greeted, crossing the threshold with purposeful steps. “I’m Doctor Taylor. I understand you’ve given everyone quite a scare. How are you feeling?”
Dorothea offered him a polite smile. “Much better, thank you. I slept deeply and seem to have recovered from my cold.”
Dominic took a step back from the bed. “I should go,” he murmured, avoiding her gaze.
Doctor Taylor glanced at him over his spectacles. “You’re more than welcome to remain, my lord. The examination will be brief.”
Dominic shook his head. “I have work that requires my attention that I’ve put off long enough.”
Doctor Taylor gave a nod of understanding and set his bag at the foot of the bed, unlatching it with the practiced ease of a man who had done so a thousand times. “As you wish. I assure you, I’ll take excellent care of Lady Warwicke. You’ve nothing to be concerned about.”
Dominic turned to her then and there was something vulnerable in his expression. The way he looked at her was raw and unguarded.
“Rest, Dorothea.” He lifted his hand, almost touching her arm—then stopped. His fingers hovered for a breath, then fell silently to his side. “I will return shortly.”
And just like that, he turned and strode from the room, the door closing behind him.
Dorothea stared at the place where he’d stood, her heart twisting. Despite everything he tried to hide… he did care. She just didn’t know if he would ever let himself show it.
Dominic sat alone in the shadowed corner of White’s, a glass clutched tightly in his hand.
Around him, the club buzzed with its usual polite murmur of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of restrained laughter.
But he heard none of it. His thoughts crowded out every sound, every distraction.
Dorothea had nearly died.
If he had arrived just a few minutes later… he couldn’t finish the thought. It twisted in his chest like a blade.
He cared for her. Of course he did. That wasn’t the question. The problem was that his feelings didn’t matter. This was about keeping her safe. He had made his decision for her benefit. She deserved freedom. A life unmarred by a broken man.
So why, then, was he beginning to question everything?
No.