Chapter 14 #2
Dorothea remained standing for a moment, her fingers slowly curling into her palm where his had just been. The silence between them was heavy with all the things he couldn’t say, and all the things she wasn’t ready to stop hoping for.
With a heavy sigh, she turned and returned to the bed. But her gaze lingered on him a moment longer before she slipped beneath the blankets.
He might have given up.
But she hadn't.
Dominic sat in the chair, his gaze fixed on the still figure lying in the bed.
The soft, steady rise and fall of Dorothea’s chest brought a measure of relief, though it did little to ease the tumult within him.
The morning sunlight attempted to pierce through the heavy drapes, but the room remained cloaked in shadows, save for the golden slivers that spilled in around the edges.
Outside, birds chirped with bright indifference, a cruel contrast to the storm still raging inside his mind.
His thoughts wandered to the conversation he and Dorothea had shared only hours before—her insistence that he was not beyond saving.
She was wrong, of course. She had to be.
A woman like her could not possibly understand the rot that lay beneath his skin.
She was too kind. Too compassionate. And he was a man well-acquainted with darkness.
She deserved so much more than a broken man grasping at redemption. She needed to be free of him. That was why the annulment had to happen—no matter how much it tore at him.
A soft knock at the door drew his attention. A moment later, it creaked open to reveal Tabitha, cradling a breakfast tray. Her manner was brisk, but her eyes flicked to Dorothea with quiet concern.
“I’ve brought Lady Warwicke’s breakfast,” she said in a hushed voice. “I made certain Mrs. Dawson prepared it herself.”
“Thank you,” Dominic said, standing to make room for her to pass.
Tabitha stepped carefully into the chamber and placed the tray on the nearby table. “How is she faring?”
“She slept through most of the night,” Dominic replied, his gaze returning to the bed. “I believe she’s regained some strength.”
A muffled groan interrupted them.
“I wish you wouldn’t speak of me as though I’m not present,” Dorothea murmured, her voice rough from sleep but laced with wry amusement. She shifted and opened her eyes, blinking against the low light.
Dominic moved closer to the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better,” she answered as she slowly sat up, pushing her tangled hair back from her face. “Though I confess, I’m absolutely famished.”
“Then it’s fortunate I brought food,” Tabitha said with a smile, uncovering the plate.
Dorothea eyed the tray with interest until her gaze settled on the small glass set off to the side. Her face soured. “Must I drink that awful concoction again?”
“It would help,” Dominic replied.
She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll consider it after I’ve eaten something tolerable.”
He couldn’t help but smile. Even with her hair in a wild disarray and the flush of illness still fading from her cheeks, she had never looked lovelier. Perhaps it was the defiance in her eyes, or the strength she didn’t even realize she possessed. She was everything he didn’t deserve.
Tabitha’s voice broke the moment. “Wright asked me to tell you that Mr. Haverleigh is downstairs, my lord. He wishes to speak with you.”
Dominic saw Dorothea tense immediately, her hands tightening around the blankets.
“I’ll go speak to him,” Dominic said, already straightening his coat.
“What do you suppose he wants?” Dorothea asked, her voice tight.
Dominic placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, his thumb unconsciously brushing against her collarbone. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is you. Focus on resting and getting better.”
Her eyes searched his face. “I don’t want to see him.”
“You won’t,” he promised, his voice firm. “You are safe here—with me. I won’t let him or anyone else hurt you again.”
She dropped her gaze, but not before he caught the flicker of pain there. A pain he feared he had caused.
He stepped back, his hand falling away. “Tabitha will stay with you until I return.”
“You should try to get some rest,” Dorothea insisted.
“I’ll sleep only when I know the threat to you is gone.” He walked towards the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “Keep the door locked.”
“Yes, my lord,” Tabitha said with a curtsy.
Dominic nodded once and strode out, his mind already bracing for the confrontation awaiting him. He didn’t need to guess why Haverleigh had come. The annulment.
When he entered his study, Mr. Haverleigh was already there, standing rigid in the center of the room with the barely restrained fury of a man who believed himself wronged.
“Good morning,” Dominic greeted, tone clipped but polite.
“I’m not here for pleasantries,” Haverleigh snapped. “I’ve come to collect my sister and take her home.”
Dominic didn’t hesitate. “No.”
Haverleigh’s brows lifted. “Pardon?”
“I believe I was quite clear,” Dominic replied. “Dorothea is not going anywhere. Certainly not with you.”
Haverleigh’s nostrils flared. “Says the man who seeks to ruin her with an annulment.”
“Yes,” Dominic admitted. “But if it is granted, she will not return to your house. I will provide her with a household of her own—safe and far removed from your reach.”
Haverleigh took a threatening step forward.
“You lost the right to care for her the moment you decided to cast her aside. She is my sister, and I will not let you destroy what remains of her dignity,” he said.
“If you establish a household for Dorothea, she would be considered a kept woman. Is that what you want?”
Dominic remained unmoved. “No, that is not what I want.”
“You’ve ruined her,” Haverleigh spat out. “I intend to repair what I can, beginning with taking her home.”
“She does not wish to go with you.”
His lips twisted in disdain. “Does it matter what she wants?”
Dominic’s jaw clenched. “It most certainly does.”
There was a smug glint in Haverleigh’s eyes now. “I doubt she’s agreed to this annulment.”
“I am doing what is best for her.”
“No, you’re doing what is easiest for you,” Haverleigh sneered. “What is best for her is to come home, where I can see to her future and salvage what reputation she has left.”
“So you can beat her again, I suppose?”
Haverleigh’s expression faltered, then turned to outrage. “How I discipline my sister is none of your concern.”
“Discipline?” Dominic echoed. “Is that what you call it?”
“She married, did she not? Without permission. That sort of disobedience must be corrected.”
Dominic took a step forward, his voice a quiet, dangerous promise. “If you ever lay a hand on her again, I will not let the law deal with you. I will.”
Haverleigh blanched but held his tongue.
Dominic continued. “Furthermore, she is still my wife. And as such, she will remain here under my protection.”
Haverleigh’s lip curled in disdain. “You think you’re so clever…”
Dominic allowed a dry smile to tug at the corner of his mouth. “I do, actually.”
“If the annulment is granted, Dorothea won’t be your responsibility anymore. She’ll be unprotected. Alone. And you can’t always shield her from the consequences of her actions.”
Dominic had heard enough. “You may go now,” he growled. “You are no longer welcome in my home.”
Haverleigh paused, arching a brow. “Interesting choice of words—your home. Not our home. Not hers. Did you ever truly intend to remain married to my sister? Or was this entire farce just another means to ease your guilt?”
“I do not answer to you,” Dominic returned, his tone clipped, refusing to be baited.
Haverleigh’s eyes flickered with contempt. “Of course not. You’re a coward.”
Dominic remained composed. “Says the man who raised his hand to his own sister,” he shot back. “How very brave of you.”
“At least I own what I’ve done,” Haverleigh said with a shrug, shameless. “But you? You sit on your high horse, pretending your hands are clean while you destroy her in a slower, more insidious way.”
“I do not abuse Dorothea.”
“Not with your fists,” Haverleigh sneered, “but what about your silence? Your indifference? Your rejection?” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a cruel whisper. “You break her with your words. And you’re too much of a coward to admit it.”
The accusation landed with precision. Dominic didn’t flinch, but the impact was undeniable. He met Haverleigh’s gaze with a cold, steady glare, refusing to let him see how deeply the words had struck.
Haverleigh let the silence stretch before brushing past him with a smug expression. “Good day, my lord,” he drawled, his mockery thick in the air.
“Before you go,” Dominic called out to him, “what of Dorothea’s dowry?”
Haverleigh halted, his back to him. “There is no dowry,” he said without turning around.
“Strange,” Dominic murmured. “Dorothea seems to believe there is.”
Haverleigh turned slowly, his expression guarded. “Then she is mistaken. No dowry exists. And even if it did, it wouldn’t belong to you.”
“That’s fair,” Dominic acknowledged. “But I’m less concerned about the money and more curious about the conditions tied to it.”
A muscle twitched in Haverleigh’s jaw—subtle, but telling. “There are no conditions since there is no dowry,” he said flatly.
“Did your father leave a will?” Dominic asked, taking a small step forward.
Haverleigh’s eyes narrowed, just a flicker, but Dominic saw it. A glimmer of uncertainty, quickly masked by practiced arrogance.
“There was no will,” Haverleigh stated. “And if this interrogation is finished—”
“This isn’t an interrogation,” Dominic interjected. “It’s a conversation. I’m merely asking questions.”
“Questions you have no right to ask,” Haverleigh snapped.
Dominic crossed his arms over his chest. “I find myself curious that a man of your father’s station would not leave a will.”
“I could not speak for my father, but perhaps he had other things that preoccupied his time.”
“Yet Dorothea seems to believe there is a will,” Dominic pressed. “She recalls her father revising his will right before they left for the Continent.”
Haverleigh scoffed. “My sister does not know what she speaks of,” he asserted, turning sharply on his heel.
Dominic let him go this time, not bothering to stop him. There was no need. The man had already revealed more than he intended. Haverleigh was hiding something. But what it was, he couldn’t say. At least, not yet.
He would uncover the truth.
Whatever it took.