Chapter 12 #2
Dorothea reached for her glass, her fingers brushing the stem. “You may not want children now. But I think, in time, you might surprise yourself.”
Dominic didn’t answer. But he didn’t look away either.
And for now, that was enough.
The following morning, the soft murmur of a new day had already begun to stir the household when Dominic descended the main staircase.
Sunlight filtered through the windows of the entry hall, casting golden streaks across the black-and-white marble floor.
At the far end, he spotted a small figure standing as still as a statue, forehead nearly pressed to the glass.
Tristan.
Dominic came to a stop beside the boy. “What are you doing?”
Tristan barely spared him a glance, his eyes trained on the road just beyond the gates. “My mum should be arriving soon,” he said, his voice bubbling with anticipation.
“Ah, yes,” Dominic murmured. “This is the day.”
Before he could say more, a soft rustle on the staircase caught his attention.
He turned his head and saw Dorothea descending.
She wore a pale yellow morning gown that clung to her slender frame before flowing gently to the floor.
The color made her hair seem more golden than red, and the faint smile playing at her lips gave her the air of quiet contentment.
There was something radiant about her that morning. She was truly a beautiful young woman, on the inside and out. And the more time he spent with her, the more Dominic started to question if he wanted an annulment.
“Dominic,” she said, her eyes meeting his as she reached the final step.
He moved to greet her. “Dorothea,” he said with a small bow.
She gave him a look edged in teasing. “You’re being rather formal this morning. Should I be concerned?”
“Not at all. I trust you slept well?”
“I did. And you?”
“For once, yes,” he admitted. “It was... unusual, but welcome.”
Her gaze shifted towards Tristan. “He looks as though he’s been standing there for hours.”
“He might’ve been,” Dominic replied.
Just then, Tristan gave a cry of delight. “She’s here!” he shouted and, without a second’s hesitation, flung the front door open and darted outside.
Dorothea watched him with a smile. “It’s good to see him so happy.”
“That it is,” Dominic agreed, though his voice turned thoughtful. “I only hope you aren’t making a mistake by hiring Tabitha.”
“I’m not,” she said with certainty.
A moment later, Tristan returned, hand tightly clasped in his mother’s. His face was flushed with excitement. “She’s here,” he announced proudly.
Tabitha stepped into the entry hall, her eyes wide with wonder and her smile tentative but sincere. She wore a dark blue gown and her hair had been neatly braided back. She looked both grateful and slightly overwhelmed.
“My lady,” she said, dipping a quick curtsy. “Thank you for sending the gown. That was more kindness than I expected.”
Dorothea stepped forward. “You are more than welcome here, Tabitha. We’ve thoroughly enjoyed having Tristan with us.”
Tabitha glanced down at her son, then back up. “I hope he hasn’t caused too much mischief.”
“Not in the least,” Dorothea assured her.
“Well then,” Tabitha said, straightening slightly. “Shall I begin work at once?”
Dominic interjected before she could move. “Have you already eaten this morning?”
“I haven’t broken my fast yet, no, but—”
“You must have breakfast,” Tristan interrupted, tugging at her hand. “Mrs. Dawson makes the best scones with clotted cream. You’ll love them. Come on—I’ll show you where the kitchen is.”
“Tristan, slow down!” Tabitha said with a laugh, trying to keep pace as he dragged her along the corridor.
Dorothea laughed. “I would just go with him. He has a certain determination about him.”
Tabitha smiled. “That sounds wonderful,” she said, allowing herself to be led towards the servants’ entrance.
As they disappeared, Dominic turned to Dorothea. “It was thoughtful of you to send her a dress.”
She shrugged off the praise with a wave of her hand. “I saw the condition of the one she had and couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable she must feel in it.”
Dominic studied her. “How is it you always notice those little things?”
“I don’t know,” she said, as though the answer were simple. “I saw a need, and I did what I could. Nothing more.”
“It’s more than that,” Dominic said. “You continue to impress me, Thea.”
She blinked. “What did you call me?”
With a slight wince, he replied, “Thea. I hope that wasn’t too forward.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “My mother used to call me that. Hearing it again... it brings back such fond memories.”
“Then Thea it is,” he said, offering his arm. “May I escort you to breakfast?”
“I would like that very much,” she replied, taking his arm.
As they walked down the hall together, Dominic turned slightly towards her. “I was wondering if you’d like to take a carriage ride through Hyde Park later today.”
Her smile widened. “That sounds delightful.”
He found himself smiling back before he could stop it. “Wonderful.”
They stepped into the dining room where the table had already been set. He led her to her chair and helped her settle before taking the seat beside her.
A moment later, Wright appeared, carrying a silver tray stacked with envelopes. “These have been arriving all morning, my lady.”
Dorothea reached for the bundle and gave an excited squeal. “Invitations! These are invitations to social events.”
Dominic made a face. “That sounds… dreadful.”
Her excitement was palpable. “I never imagined I’d receive an invitation from a duchess,” she said, holding up a cream-colored envelope adorned with an elaborate seal.
“One of the many curses of being part of the ton,” Dominic muttered as he reached for his coffee.
She looked at him curiously. “You don’t wish to attend?”
He took a sip before replying, “I have no great desire to mingle with preening aristocrats and dull dinner companions. But…” He glanced at her. “If you would like to attend one or two, I suppose I could endure it.”
She beamed at him. “I’d like that very much.”
And strangely, Dominic realized, he didn’t entirely dread the idea either.
The footmen stepped forward, placing freshly prepared plates before them. Dominic reached for his fork while Dorothea sat back and began opening the pile of envelopes in front of her.
“Ten,” she announced after a moment, her voice tinged with pride.
Dominic glanced at her. “Ten what?”
She grinned as she laid the final envelope on the stack. “We’ve received ten invitations. Balls, soirées, and a garden party hosted by Lady Melgrave. We’ve become quite the fashionable couple, apparently.”
He raised a brow. “Is that so? Well, you choose. Pick one or two that sound tolerable.”
“Just one or two?” she teased. “What if I wish to attend them all?”
“Then I shall wish you well and remain at home,” he said with mirth in his voice.
Before she could reply, Wright reappeared in the doorway carrying a silver tray with the day’s newssheets neatly arranged atop it.
“The Morning Post has just arrived, my lord,” he said, offering the tray.
Dominic took the newssheets with a nod of thanks, immediately removing the Society section and extending it across the table to Dorothea.
“Thank you,” she said, unfolding the newssheets with eager fingers. As he turned his attention to the front page, scanning headlines of political shifts and parliamentary squabbles, he heard her draw in a quick breath.
“We’re mentioned again,” Dorothea said. “In the Society pages.”
He didn’t look up. “Are we scandalous or merely fashionable this time?”
“It’s another article by Mr. Fairchild,” she replied, eyes scanning the column. “And this time… it’s about an annulment.”
He froze.
Dorothea lowered the newssheets, her gaze lifting to meet his. Her expression was unreadable at first—curious, yes, but shadowed by something darker beneath the surface.
“The article says that you’re petitioning for an annulment,” she said. “Is it true?”
A cold weight settled in his stomach. He swallowed, his voice low. “It is.”
Her lips parted slightly, but no sound emerged at first. “You don’t want to be married to me?” The words were quiet, almost tentative—hopeful, perhaps, that he would deny them.
Dominic shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not that simple.”
“But it is,” she said, setting the newssheets down with trembling fingers. “You’ve made a decision. Without telling me. After everything we’ve been through—everything we’ve shared—you were planning to cast me aside?”
“Dorothea,” he began, “please, just listen—”
“No,” she said firmly, pushing her chair back with enough force to make it scrape loudly against the floor. She stood, her hands clenched at her sides. “How could you do this to me? To us?”
He let out a dry laugh. “There is no us. There never was. I married you under the assumption that I was going to die. It was a formality. A kindness. I never intended to stay married.”
The words landed like a blow. She staggered back a step, as if his admission had physically struck her. Her face crumpled with disbelief and hurt.
“You made me believe…” Her voice cracked. “You made me believe we could be something more.”
“That we could have a happy marriage?” he asked. “That was never the plan. I thought it better to be honest now than let you believe in a future that doesn’t exist.”
“Better for whom, Dominic?” she demanded, her voice rising, eyes shining with unshed tears. “For me? Or for you?”
Dominic stood slowly. “If you would just let me explain, you would understand.”
“I can’t even look at you right now,” she said, her voice rising. She turned away, her breath uneven as she moved to the door.
He took a step forward. “Dorothea—”
She paused in the doorway, her head high. “You were right about one thing,” she said without turning. “You are not the man I thought you were.”
“I told you that man died on the battlefield. You just refused to believe it,” Dominic asserted.
She walked out without another word, leaving him alone.
Dominic returned to his seat, but he was in no mood to eat. This was what he had wanted. What he had planned for. An annulment—clean, final, logical. He had convinced himself it was the best course of action. Safer. Simpler.
So why did he feel like he had just made the worst mistake of his life?