Chapter 16 #2
“You found him that quickly?”
“I have experience in such matters,” he said, lowering himself onto the settee beside her. “I used to work as a Bow Street Runner. I know how to find people who would rather not be found.”
“Thank you,” she said, her words filled with gratitude. “Did the footman tell you why he tried to kill me?”
Dominic gave a solemn nod. “Do you remember the case I spoke of before? The one involving a string of thefts across Mayfair?”
“You mean the young woman who posed as a lady and was stealing from townhouses?”
“Yes, precisely,” he replied. “She was sentenced to be transported, but she didn’t survive the journey. Died aboard the ship before reaching the colonies.”
“And the footman?”
“He was her brother,” Dominic said, his voice heavy. “He blamed me for her death, but he could not reach me. So he targeted the person he thought would hurt me the most.”
She drew in a sharp breath. “Me.”
“He believed by taking your life, he would exact his revenge. That somehow your blood would balance the scales.”
Her hands trembled slightly at her sides. “How could someone carry so much hate?”
“I ask myself that every day.” Dominic’s posture shifted, his expression growing more solemn. “I meant it, what I said. I’ll always protect you. You’ll never need to fear for your safety.”
“But I do fear, especially if we’re no longer married. If the annulment goes through, what’s to stop my brother from taking me back? From controlling me again?”
A shadow passed through his eyes. “I would never allow that.”
“But you won’t always be there to stop him,” she responded.
He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “Do you even want to be married to me?” he asked suddenly, almost as if he didn’t want to hear the answer.
Yes. With her whole, foolish heart.
But she didn’t dare overwhelm him with the depth of her feelings. Not yet. “I do,” she replied. “I always have.”
Dominic turned his face away. “Your life wouldn’t be easy if you stayed with me. I’m not… I’m not an easy man. I have darkness in me. I fear you’d grow to resent it. Resent me.”
She reached for his hand, gently entwining her fingers with his. “I could never resent you.”
He flinched slightly, a wounded look crossing his features. “You say that now, but what about in a few years? When the weight of everything I carry becomes yours as well? I couldn’t bear to see you unhappy because of me.”
She waited until he met her gaze before speaking.
“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, Dominic. Then you’d understand just how deeply I care for you.
You call yourself broken, but I don’t see that.
And even if you were—truly shattered—I’d help you gather each and every piece. I would never walk away from you.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, clearly moved. “I don’t know if I could do that to you—tie you to a man like me.”
“You wouldn’t be doing anything to me,” she said, lifting her hand to cup his cheek. Her thumb brushed across his jagged scar. “You’d be letting me choose you. And I already have.”
“Thea…” His voice cracked slightly as he said her name. “I just… I need you to be certain.”
“I am certain,” she whispered. “Utterly.”
He studied her face, as though searching for a crack in her resolve. “How do you know? After everything?”
She smiled. “It is simple,” she replied. “I care for you, and I will wait for you. Because, in my heart, I know you are worth it.”
Dominic’s eyes drifted to her lips. The air between them changed, charged and trembling with what might come next. She could feel it—he wanted to kiss her. But still, she held back. She wouldn’t press him. So, she remained still, letting the silence speak what words could not.
And hoped, with all her heart, that one day he would choose her, too.
The chime of the dinner bell rang faintly in the distance, breaking the spell that had come over them.
Dominic cleared his throat, the sound low and rough as he met her eyes. “Shall we adjourn for dinner?”
It was the last thing she wanted. Her hand still rested lightly on his cheek, her heart still caught in the hope that he might finally close the distance between them. But instead, she nodded and slowly lowered her hand.
He rose and extended his hand to help her up. “I find that I am famished,” he said, his voice lighter now, as though he hadn’t just been inches away from baring his soul.
Dorothea allowed him to lead her from the drawing room, though her thoughts lingered behind.
He had been so close to kissing her. She had seen it in the way his gaze dipped to her mouth, felt it in the unspoken hush between them.
What was holding him back? Was it some shadow from his past or a fear he had yet to name?
What more could she say or do to show him that she wanted him—not just the parts of him he deemed acceptable, but all of him?
As they entered the dining room, Dominic guided her to her chair and pulled it out. She murmured her thanks, and once she was seated, he took the place beside her—close, but not quite close enough.
He turned slightly to meet her gaze. “I had an informative conversation with your brother earlier today.”
“Oh? What did he want?”
Dominic reached for his wine glass and took a sip before answering. “He was quite insistent that you possess no dowry.”
She furrowed her brow. “That cannot be right. My father assured me that I had a dowry.”
“Did he tell you the specifics?”
“Yes. If I didn’t marry by my five-and-twentieth birthday, I was to inherit the ten thousand pounds.”
Dominic considered her for a moment before murmuring, “Interesting.”
“Perhaps my brother misspoke?”
“Possibly, but he also claimed your father left behind no will.”
Dorothea frowned. “That’s not possible. My father was meticulous. He would never leave something so important unsettled.”
“I daresay your brother has not been rather forthright, especially when it has come to you,” Dominic shared. “Before I came to retrieve you, your brother had been depositing money that my solicitor had been sending to you.”
She pressed her lips together. “Why would he do such a thing?”
“I cannot say.”
Before Dorothea could respond, the footmen entered the room and set steaming bowls of soup before them. The scent of leeks and rich broth filled the space, but Dorothea hardly noticed. Her appetite had vanished.
Dominic lifted his spoon and stirred the soup absently. “I’ll look into the matter further.”
She glanced at him, her voice tight. “How?”
A ghost of a smirk curled his lips. “I have my ways.”
Dorothea turned her attention back to her soup, stirring it gently, though her appetite remained elusive. Just as she lifted the spoon to her lips, a flicker of movement in the corridor caught her eyes. She glanced up and saw two curious eyes watching them.
“Tristan,” she called out. “What are you doing loitering in the corridor?”
The boy stepped into the dining room, wholly unrepentant, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his trousers. “I’m bored,” he announced with a dramatic sigh.
Dorothea arched a brow. “Is it not past your bedtime?”
Tristan shrugged, utterly unconcerned. “Perhaps. But Anna fell asleep in the chair again. Her head was leaning all funny, and I didn’t want to wake her.” He wandered closer to the table. “What are you eating? It smells delicious.”
“Did you not have your supper?” she asked.
“I did,” Tristan replied. “But that was hours ago.”
Dominic leaned back in his chair and gestured to the one beside him. “Come sit. You can have my soup.”
Tristan’s eyes widened. “Truly?” Without waiting for further encouragement, he darted to the chair and sat down. “Thank you, my lord,” he said before he started devouring the soup.
Dorothea watched the exchange with quiet affection. The way Dominic’s expression softened as he regarded the boy stirred something deep within her. He had no obligation to Tristan, and yet here he was—gentle, patient, and instinctively kind.
As Tristan focused on his soup, Dominic turned to her once more. “I was wondering if you might wish to join me for a carriage ride tomorrow.”
Her smile came easily. “I would greatly enjoy that.”
Before she could say more, Tristan piped up between bites. “Can I come, too?”
Dominic chuckled, a low, genuine sound that warmed Dorothea’s heart. “I think it would be best if you stayed behind this time.”
Tristan slumped slightly. “That is no fun at all.”
“How are your studies going?” Dominic asked.
“Boring,” Tristan muttered, scraping his spoon along the bottom of the bowl. “Why do I need a tutor? I already know how to read.”
“A tutor teaches much more than just reading,” Dominic replied. “There are other subjects—history, arithmetic, science—that are important for a young gentleman to understand.”
Tristan gave him a thoughtful look. “Do you think he’ll teach me about rockets?”
“You could ask him,” Dominic said. “And if he doesn’t know enough, I can teach you myself.”
Tristan’s expression turned unexpectedly solemn. “My father loved rockets.” He picked up the bowl and brought it to his lips, slurping the last of the broth just as a voice called from the doorway.
“Tristan!”
All heads turned as Tabitha strode into the room, her expression a mixture of weariness and mild exasperation. “I do apologize,” she said to Dominic and Dorothea as she crossed the room. “Tristan should not be interrupting your supper.”
“We invited him,” Dorothea assured her.
Tabitha offered a grateful nod, though her disapproval remained. “That is generous of you, but he should be in bed and not slurping soup like a common street urchin. Have I taught you nothing, Son?”
Tristan visibly winced. “I was hungry. And Lord Warwicke said I could have his soup.”
“Then you should have asked Anna for more food or gone down to the kitchen yourself,” Tabitha chided. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come along. It’s time for bed.”
Tristan pushed back his chair, dragging his feet as he rose. “But I’m not even tired.”
Tabitha gave him a look. “Why don’t we find a book in the library? I can read to you—or better yet, you can read to me.”
“Do I have to?” Tristan whined.
“Yes,” she replied. “Now, thank Lord and Lady Warwicke for their hospitality.”
The boy cast a sheepish glance between them. “Thank you, my lord. My lady.”
“Goodnight, Tristan,” Dorothea said.
Once the pair had exited the room, the door closing softly behind them, Dominic leaned back in his chair and sighed.
“I used to do the same thing,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement. “I’d wait until my nursemaid fell asleep in her chair, then sneak down to the kitchen. I’d eat whatever the cook had left out—cold pies, biscuits, even old scraps of ham. I thought myself terribly clever.”
“That does not surprise me in the least,” Dorothea said as she set down her spoon. “You’ve always struck me as the sort of boy who thrived on mischief.”
“And what about you?”
Dorothea sat back slightly, folding her hands in her lap. “Oh, I was dreadfully well-behaved. I followed every rule to the letter. I never once dared to creep out of bed after hours, even when I was certain the adults were up to something far more interesting downstairs.”
Dominic leaned in just a touch, the candlelight catching in his eyes. “Sometimes it’s rather fun to break the rules.”
The weight of his words pressed into the space between them, unsaid truths hovering in the air. His gaze—calm, playful, but shadowed with longing—sent her heart stumbling in her chest.
She held his gaze and replied, her voice quieter now, “Perhaps it is.”