Chapter 11 #2
Her words comforted him in a way that nothing had before. Perhaps it was the way she had looked at him—with quiet understanding instead of pity, with no trace of judgment in her eyes. And when her fingers had entwined with his, suddenly and without explanation, life made sense.
Behind him, his valet cleared his throat. “Will there be anything else, my lord?”
Dominic released his cravat and lowered his hands. “Not at this time. I am going riding with Lady Warwicke.”
“Very good, my lord.”
With a nod of dismissal, Dominic crossed the room, the heels of his boots clicking on the floor. He opened the door and stepped into the corridor. Just as it shut behind him, the tapestry at the far end of the hallway lifted, and a tousle-haired Tristan emerged from behind it with a wide grin.
“Good morning, my lord,” the boy said cheerfully, as if he had done nothing the least bit suspicious.
Dominic raised a brow. “May I ask what you were doing in the servants’ corridors?”
“I was exploring,” Tristan said, utterly unrepentant. “They’re everywhere in this townhouse. Like a maze.”
“That they are,” Dominic said with a sigh, “but they are meant for the servants, not for young boys with a habit of mischief. And where, may I ask, is the maid assigned to keep an eye on you?”
Tristan shrugged as if it were hardly worth mentioning. “I’m not quite sure. I left while she was fetching my breakfast.”
Dominic gave him a look meant to be stern, though it was softened by reluctant amusement. “I would prefer if you remained under her care.”
“But Anna is so dull,” Tristan complained. “She insists I sit still and eat oatmeal. I’m not used to someone trailing after me like a lost duckling.”
Before Dominic could offer a rebuttal, a nearby door opened and Dorothea stepped out into the corridor. She was dressed in a blue riding habit and her red hair had been pulled neatly into a chignon at the nape of her neck.
“Good morning, my lady,” Tristan chirped.
Dorothea jumped slightly. “Gracious!” she exclaimed with a hand to her chest. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here.”
“We do live here,” Dominic teased.
“That you do,” Dorothea replied, glancing between them. Her eyes narrowed with mock suspicion as she looked to Tristan. “Let me guess—you lost Anna again?”
Tristan beamed. “I did.”
She shook her head with a soft laugh. “That poor girl. I do hope you’re at least keeping up with your studies.”
“I am,” he said proudly. “I even read a book from the library last night.”
“Oh? Which one?”
Tristan paused, frowning. “It was… a book. With words.”
Dorothea laughed, the sound bright and warm in the quiet hall. “A promising start. Perhaps next time you’ll remember the title.”
Dominic stepped towards her and offered his arm. “May I escort you to the stables?”
Her brows lifted slightly, but then she smiled and placed her gloved hand on his arm. “Thank you.”
Tristan followed eagerly, quickening his pace to keep up. “Can I ride with you? The groom said I’m a natural.”
“As tempting as that sounds,” Dominic said, “I would like to spend time with Dorothea alone this morning.”
Dorothea glanced over in surprise. “You would?”
He met her eyes without hesitation. “I would.”
A flush bloomed on her cheeks at his quiet sincerity, and she ducked her head. “I would like that, too,” she murmured.
They descended the stairs together. Tristan tagged along behind until they reached the entry hall, where Anna stood waiting with her arms crossed and one foot tapping furiously against the marble floor.
“Tristan,” she scolded, “you were meant to remain in the nursery while I fetched your breakfast. Now it’s gone cold.”
“I don’t mind cold food,” he said with a shrug.
“Well, good, because you’re going to eat every last bite,” she retorted, pointing firmly towards the staircase. “And don’t think I’ll take my eyes off you today—not for a moment.”
Tristan sighed with theatrical resignation and began his reluctant march back upstairs.
Dorothea giggled. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t laugh, but she has her hands full with that one.”
“She certainly does,” Dominic agreed.
Wright appeared and bowed to them. “If you would care to wait here, my lord, the horses will be brought around to the front.”
Dominic shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. We’ll retrieve them ourselves.”
“As you wish,” Wright replied, stepping aside.
They exited through the side doors and walked down a gravel path bordered by clipped hedges and blooming flowers.
“Did you manage to sleep?” Dominic asked as they walked.
“A little,” she said. “But not much.”
He gave a quiet nod. “I dozed off and on. Still, it was far preferable to the nightmare I was having before you woke me.”
She turned her head towards him, her brow faintly furrowed. “Do you… often get nightmares?”
“More often than I would like,” he admitted, not quite meeting her gaze.
She didn’t press him further, only nodded in understanding.
As they reached the stable yard, a liveried footman was leading out two horses. He halted in front of them and bowed slightly. “Your horses, my lord,” he announced, holding out the reins.
Dorothea accepted hers and moved to the side of her mare.
“Allow me,” Dominic said, stepping forward and crouching to offer his hands.
She placed her boot in his cupped palms and let him lift her into the saddle. Once she was properly seated, she glanced down at him with a soft expression. “Thank you,” she said.
Now that Dorothea was securely in the saddle, Dominic turned to mount his own horse.
But the moment his foot found the stirrup, a sharp, jarring whinny split the air.
To his horror, Dorothea’s horse reared onto its hind legs, front hooves pawing at the sky.
She let out a startled gasp, her hands gripping the reins instinctively—but it was too late.
The horse bucked violently, and Dorothea was thrown.
She hit the ground with a sickening thud, her body crumpling on the gravel.
“Get these horses away from us!” Dominic bellowed, hurling his reins towards the stunned footman. His boots scraped against the gravel as he rushed to her side.
“Dorothea!” he cried, his voice tight with panic. He dropped to his knees beside her, but hesitated, terrified that touching her might worsen an unseen injury. “Dorothea, can you hear me?”
She didn’t answer.
“Dorothea!” His voice cracked with urgency.
At last, she let out a groan and shifted, eyes fluttering open. “That hurt,” she mumbled, wincing as she attempted to lift her head. “What happened?”
“I don’t rightly know,” Dominic said, crouching closer. “One moment you were astride your horse, and the next, you were flat on your back.”
His gaze swept over her, his eyes scanning for blood, bruises, anything that might hint at the severity of her fall. “Are you injured?”
“My shoulder aches, but nothing seems broken,” she said, slowly pushing herself upright, though her movements were stiff and cautious.
“We should summon the doctor,” he stated.
She gave him a look. “And say what? That I have a bruise and a sore shoulder? That hardly warrants his time.”
Dorothea tried to stand but faltered, her balance slipping from under her.
Dominic didn’t wait for permission. In one swift motion, he scooped her into his arms, ignoring her weak protests.
“I can walk, Dominic,” she said, though her voice was faint.
“I know,” he murmured, holding her close, “but that doesn’t mean I’ll let you.”
By the time they reached the back of the townhouse, a footman had already opened the door. Dominic stepped inside, striding through the hall until he spotted Wright.
“Send for the doctor,” Dominic commanded, not slowing.
“That’s not necessary—” Dorothea began.
He cut her off, his tone firmer. “Just let the doctor examine you, Dorothea. Please.”
“Very well. But I still think you're overreacting.”
“Duly noted,” he said as he carefully set her down onto the drawing room settee, adjusting the cushions behind her. “Can I get you anything?”
“I’m truly fine,” she replied with a wan smile. “Although I do wonder what startled the horse. She’s normally very calm.”
Dominic moved to sit beside her but stopped. Instead, he began to pace, his agitation evident in every rigid line of his body.
Dorothea’s eyes followed him. “You’re making me nervous. Sit down.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Do you know what could have happened if your horse had spooked like that on the street? You could have been trampled. Or worse.”
“You mustn’t dwell on such possibilities,” she said. “I’m right here, and I’m perfectly well.”
He strode towards the drawing room door and flung it open. “Wright!”
A moment later, the butler reappeared. “Yes, my lord?”
“I want to see the head groom in my study. At once,” Dominic said sharply. “Someone saddled Lady Warwicke’s horse improperly, and I want to know who.”
As Wright bowed and left to carry out the order, Dorothea let out a long sigh. “You’re making a big ado out of nothing. Accidents happen.”
“I will be the judge of that,” Dominic said, his tone clipped. But a moment later, his voice softened. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have snapped.”
She gave him a knowing look. “If confronting the groom brings you peace of mind, then by all means. But please, don’t dismiss him over something so minor.”
Dominic gave a tight nod and turned for his study.
The moment he stepped inside, he strode to the drink cart and poured a generous serving of brandy.
It burned down his throat as he drank it in a single swallow.
It was far too early to drink, but his hands were still shaking.
Rage. Guilt. Fear. All of it twisted inside him like a noose pulling tighter.
He needed clarity.
The door creaked open and in stepped a short, broad-shouldered man with thick black hair and nervous eyes. He held his cap in both hands, wringing it with anxiety.
“You sent for me, my lord?”
Dominic turned, setting the empty glass aside. “Yes. Care to explain what happened with Lady Warwicke’s horse?”
The man’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “There was… a burr under the saddle, my lord.”
“A burr,” Dominic repeated flatly.
“Yes,” the man confirmed, his gaze now fixed firmly on the carpet.
“And who saddled her horse?”
“I did.”
Dominic’s jaw tensed. “And you didn’t notice the burr? Did you even check the saddle properly?”
“I did, as I always do,” the man said, his voice wavering. “But I—I don’t know how it got there. I swear it wasn’t there when I checked.”
Dominic’s fists clenched at his sides. “The only reason I’m not dismissing you this instant is because my wife asked me not to.”
Relief flooded the man’s face. “That’s generous of you, my lord. Thank you.”
“But understand me,” Dominic said, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a growl. “If this ever happens again—if any horse under my care or hers is not checked with thorough attention—you’ll be dismissed. And without a reference. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly. I’ll be more careful. Thank you,” the man stammered before backing quickly out of the room, his cap crushed in his grip.
Dominic stood alone for a moment, the silence in the study pressing in around him. Then he exhaled through his nose and ran a hand down his face.
Dorothea was safe. That was all that mattered.