Chapter 17
Dominic sat alone in his study as the morning light filtered through the windows. The ledgers before him lay open, numbers neatly inked across the parchment, but he couldn’t bring himself to focus. His gaze remained fixed on the page, yet not a single figure registered in his mind.
All he could think about was Dorothea.
Last night in the drawing room, he had come dangerously close to kissing her. The memory still burned at the edges of his thoughts, refusing to fade. Her fingers had brushed his cheek, her eyes held him transfixed, and for one breathless moment, he had nearly surrendered to it all.
But he hadn’t. Because he couldn't. Not when everything inside him still warred with what he believed was right.
With a heavy sigh, he pressed a hand over his face.
Good gads, it would’ve been so easy to lean in and take what he wanted—to let himself feel.
To silence the world for just a moment and believe he deserved happiness.
But Dorothea wasn’t just some fleeting comfort.
She was kind. Steady. Bright in all the ways he was not.
She deserved certainty. And he was nowhere close to having that.
The logical path would be to withdraw the petition for annulment. But could he do that in good conscience? What kind of life would he be offering her? A husband who carried ghosts, who flinched at the idea of joy, who feared he would destroy everything he touched?
Still… these blasted feelings for her refused to loosen their grip.
They crept in at unexpected moments, stealing his breath.
She made him smile—genuinely smile—without even trying.
And when she looked at him, it wasn’t with pity, but with something dangerously close to belief.
No one had believed in him in a very long time.
Botheration.
He leaned back in his chair, exasperated.
Was this what falling in love felt like?
The endless push and pull? The aching want tangled up in fear?
He wouldn’t know since he’d never allowed himself the luxury.
But if it meant looking forward to seeing her, longing for the sound of her laugh, wondering what she might say next…
well, he supposed he might already be halfway there.
A knock on the door interrupted his spiraling thoughts.
Wright stepped into the study. “Mr. Wells has requested a moment of your time, my lord.”
Dominic straightened in his chair, grateful for the distraction. “Send him in.”
A moment later, Mr. Wells entered the study, a well-worn satchel slung over one shoulder. His ruddy cheeks were flushed from exertion or excitement—possibly both.
“I come bearing good news,” the solicitor announced.
“You do?”
Mr. Wells nodded. “Despite Mr. Haverleigh’s earlier claim that your wife has no dowry, he has now agreed to grant you five thousand pounds as a gesture of goodwill.”
Dominic’s suspicion flared. Slowly, he closed the ledger in front of him and leaned back in his chair, arms folding across his chest. “And he offered this freely?”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to call it freely,” Mr. Wells replied with a wry twist of his lips. “I paid him a visit this morning and informed him that we intended to request a formal inquest into his finances. I believe that suggestion alone was enough to motivate his generosity.”
Dominic snorted under his breath. “I see. Blackmail by implication. Clever.”
“I prefer to call it… strategic persuasion,” Wells said, clearly pleased with himself. He lowered into the chair opposite the desk and set his satchel on the floor with a thud.
“And what exactly are the circumstances that make five thousand pounds a fair offer?” Dominic asked.
Mr. Wells hesitated slightly before replying. “In truth, I’m not certain a judge would grant such an inquest, especially considering the absence of a will.”
“How certain are we that no will exists?”
“As I explained before, it wasn’t filed in probate court, and Mr. Haverleigh was adamant that his father left none,” Wells explained.
“At present, the only claim to the contrary is your wife’s recollection.
And while I believe she speaks the truth, it’s not exactly ironclad evidence in the eyes of the court. ”
Dominic’s jaw tightened. He didn’t doubt Dorothea’s word. Not for a moment. But without a document, her honesty might count for very little in the legal arena. And her brother would no doubt hide the truth if it served his ends.
As if Dominic needed another reason to loathe the man.
“Furthermore,” Mr. Wells added, adjusting his spectacles as he withdrew a folded document from his satchel, “if Parliament does grant the annulment, the five thousand pounds will be transferred directly to your wife, per the terms dictated by Mr. Haverleigh himself.”
Dominic’s fingers drummed against the polished surface of his desk, slow and deliberate.
On the surface, it sounded like a concession.
Generous, even. But it was too neat. Haverleigh was many things—proud, calculating, vindictive—but generous was not among them.
He wouldn’t yield five thousand pounds unless something larger was at stake.
Which begged the question: what was he trying to protect?
Mr. Wells began to rise, brushing a hand over the front of his waistcoat. “Very well. Shall I send word to Mr. Haverleigh that we are in agreement?”
“No,” Dominic said sharply.
Wells paused mid-motion, eyebrows raised in surprise. “No?”
“Not yet,” Dominic repeated, his voice firm as he, too, stood.
Mr. Wells gave him a blank look. “My lord, with all due respect, I doubt you will receive a more favorable offer. This is likely the best we can hope for under the current circumstances.”
Dominic stepped around the desk. “I’m not concerned with the offer.”
“Then what are you concerned with?” Wells asked, clearly baffled.
“That Mr. Haverleigh is too eager to make this go away. I do believe he is hiding something and I intend to find out what it is before we move forward,” Dominic replied. “Give me until tomorrow morning to decide on how to proceed.”
Mr. Wells adjusted his satchel and gave a respectful nod. “As you wish, my lord.”
After the solicitor had taken his leave, the door clicked shut behind him, leaving Dominic alone once more in the quiet study. He barely had time to collect his thoughts before Wright stepped inside.
“The carriage has been brought around to the front, my lord,” Wright informed him.
“Very good,” Dominic replied. “Has Lady Warwicke been informed?”
“She has, and she is presently waiting in the entry hall.”
Dominic moved towards the door. “Then I’d best not keep her waiting.”
As he stepped into the entry hall, he came to a full stop, his breath catching ever so slightly at the sight before him.
Dorothea stood by the main doors and her pink gown hugged her figure with understated elegance.
The top of her head was covered with a straw hat, but two red curls framed her face.
Good gads, he thought, does she become more beautiful each time I see her?
She met his gaze, but the frown tugging at her lips quickly dispelled the warmth that had filled his chest. He crossed the room in several strides.
“What’s wrong?”
She bit her lower lip. “Do you think this is wise?”
He tilted his head, unsure what she meant. “A carriage ride through Hyde Park?” His mouth quirked into a half-smile. “I daresay we’ve survived worse.”
She didn’t return the smile. Instead, her voice dropped. “I’m being serious. What if people stare at us? What if they whisper behind their fans and spread more rumors?”
He stepped closer, his tone softening. “Oh, they’ll stare. I have no doubt of that.”
A line between her brows appeared, clearly startled by his admission.
“How could they not,” he continued, eyes never leaving hers, “when you look so beautiful?”
A faint blush bloomed across her cheeks. “You are too kind.”
“I’m not being kind. I’m being truthful,” he said, his voice earnest now. “I will never tire of telling you how beautiful you are, Thea. You are—without question—the most beautiful woman I have ever known.”
Her eyes dropped to the floor, her voice a whisper. “But I have red hair.”
He reached out and captured one of the loose curls between his fingers. “And I happen to adore your red hair,” he responded. “As I do you.”
She lifted her gaze slowly to meet his. “My mother had this same color hair.”
“I wish I had met her,” Dominic said.
A thoughtful look crossed Dorothea’s face. “She would have liked you. I’m sure of that.”
He puffed his chest out theatrically. “Well, I am rather easy to like.”
She laughed, just as he had intended. “Aren’t you being cocky?”
“Come,” he said, offering his arm. “Let the gossips whisper all they like. I care not a whit for them. Let us go enjoy being together.”
Dorothea accepted his arm. “I rather like the sound of that.”
Wright stepped forward to open the main door, and Dominic led Dorothea to the carriage. Once she was situated, he moved to sit next to her, closing the door behind him.
The carriage gave a slight jolt as it lurched into motion, wheels crunching softly over gravel before settling into a rhythmic cadence on the road.
Dominic leaned back into the seat, letting his shoulders relax for the first time that day. The tension he’d carried with him—over Haverleigh, over the petition, over the gnawing uncertainty of what came next—eased in her presence.
He turned his head slightly to look at her.
Dorothea sat with her hands folded in her lap, her eyes alight with curiosity as she watched the hustle and bustle on the street, and her lips curved into a soft, unguarded smile.
A breeze lifted one of the loose curls that framed her face and sent it dancing across her cheek.
He stared longer than he should have, caught not just by her beauty but by the peace that radiated from her in that moment. How did she do it? How did she remain so poised, so hopeful, after all she had endured? Her resilience humbled him.