Chapter 19 #2
“Come,” he said, offering her his arm without meeting her gaze. “Let’s finish our meal.”
A gentle breeze stirred the hem of Dorothea’s skirts as she stood at the edge of the gardens, shading her eyes against the light.
Overhead, a vibrant red kite danced and dipped in the wind.
Tristan stood a few paces ahead, beaming with pride as he held the string taut, his shoulders squared with youthful confidence.
“Do you want to fly my kite?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder, the excitement in his voice unmistakable.
Dorothea smiled warmly. “No, thank you. I think you’re doing a splendid job all on your own.”
Just then, the back door opened and Tabitha emerged, brushing her hands down the front of her apron as she made her way across the gardens. “You don’t need to entertain Tristan, my lady.”
Dorothea turned to her. “I don’t mind in the least. It’s a beautiful day to be outside, and Tristan’s joy is rather contagious.”
Tabitha followed her gaze to the boy and nodded, a wistful expression softening her features. “I wish my husband could see him. He would’ve adored flying a kite with his son.”
Dorothea’s heart ached at the sorrow beneath her words. “I’m sorry he isn’t here,” she murmured.
Tabitha gave a faint, resigned sigh. “He was thrilled when he was selected for the rocket troop. His letters were full of pride. He believed he was doing something important.”
“May I ask…” Dorothea hesitated. “How long ago did he pass?”
“A little over six months now,” Tabitha replied, her voice quiet. “He died helping the Coalition forces on the Continent.”
Dorothea’s brows lifted. “What troop was he with?”
“The Second Rocket Troop,” Tabitha said. “He always spoke of it with such honor. Said it was a small unit of men, but fiercely brave.”
Dorothea blinked, her heart suddenly thudding. “That’s the same troop Dominic served in. What was your husband’s name?”
“John Cooper.”
Dorothea’s breath caught. She turned to face the woman fully, astonishment plain in her voice. “That’s him. That’s the man Dominic told me about—the one who saved his life.”
Tabitha’s brows drew together. “Are you certain?”
“I’m quite certain,” Dorothea said. “He carried Dominic from the battlefield when he was wounded. Your husband made sure he survived. Dominic never forgot him.”
She turned urgently, waving a hand. “Come, we must find him at once. He’ll want to know.”
Tabitha looked hesitant, as if caught between disbelief and longing. “This all feels… impossible.”
Before they could reach the house, the back door opened and Dominic stepped outside. “I came to see Tristan’s kite flying abilities,” he said with a grin.
Tristan beamed over his shoulder. “I am the greatest kite flyer in the world!”
Dominic chuckled. “Is that so? You haven’t seen me fly a kite.”
Dorothea approached, her hand gently touching his sleeve. “Dominic, I’ve discovered something. Something remarkable.”
His gaze sharpened. “What is it?”
She turned to Tabitha, encouraging her forward. “Tabitha is the widow of John Cooper—the man who saved you.”
The laughter faded from Dominic’s eyes. His entire expression shifted, sobering into stillness. “Is that… is that true?” he asked, addressing Tabitha directly. “Was your husband truly John Cooper?”
She nodded, her hands clasped tightly. “He died in battle. I was told it was instant, but I never knew how. Just that he served in the Second Rocket Troop.”
Dominic’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “He carried me from the battlefield when I was too injured to move. If not for him, I wouldn’t be standing here.”
“Then he didn’t die that day?” Tabitha asked, tears brimming in her eyes.
“No,” Dominic said. “He died the next day. There was a rocket—an accidental detonation. I was told he didn’t suffer.”
A soft sob escaped her lips, and she nodded, her voice shaking. “It’s painful… but it’s good to know. I’ve lived in the dark for so long.”
Dominic stepped forward, placing a hand over his heart. “Your husband was a hero. My hero. I owe him everything.”
“John never did things for praise,” Tabitha said, wiping her eyes. “He simply did what he believed was right.”
Dominic’s voice was thick. “How can I ever repay what he did for me?”
Tabitha glanced back at Tristan, who had resumed his proud stance, gripping the kite string. “You’re already doing more than enough for me and my son.”
“It’s not enough,” Dominic insisted. “I want to do more. I’ll see that you have your own household, a proper income—”
She shook her head quickly. “That’s not necessary.”
“It is,” he said, with quiet resolve. “You and Tristan deserve stability. Safety.”
Tabitha paused, then spoke with a trembling voice. “All I’ve ever wanted—all John ever wanted—was for our son to have a better life than we did.”
Dominic nodded, solemn. “Then I’ll raise him as if he were my own.”
Tears slipped silently down Tabitha’s cheeks. “That is awfully kind of you, my lord.”
“In truth, I’ve grown rather fond of him,” Dominic admitted with a small smile. “He reminds me of myself when I was his age—stubborn, full of questions, and absolutely certain he’s the best at everything.”
Dorothea stepped beside him. “What a remarkable turn of events.”
“Mum!” Tristan called from across the lawn. “Come watch me!”
Tabitha dabbed her eyes and offered a grateful nod before turning to join her son.
As she walked away, Dorothea felt Dominic’s hand brush against hers—then gently, he took it. Slowly, he lifted it to his lips and whispered, “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“But you did,” he said, his thumb grazing her skin. “You’ve never looked at me like I’m broken.”
“That’s because you aren’t.”
His gaze searched hers for a moment, and then he bowed his head slightly, brushing her hand with his lips. “Knowing I can repay John, in some small way… it gives me something I thought I’d lost—a sense of purpose.”
She squeezed his fingers. “And you’ll do a tremendous job. I have no doubt of it.”
“It would be preferable,” Dominic said, “if you helped raise Tristan as well.”
Dorothea was surprised by the sudden gravity in his tone. “He already has a mother.”
“Yes, he does. But I also believe no child can have too many people in their life who love them.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
A pause stretched between them before Dominic said, “Then we shall do so… together. As man and wife.”
The last words escaped him almost on a breath—spoken with quiet urgency, as if the very act of saying them risked unraveling something fragile inside him.
Dorothea’s smile faltered. “I thought we had discussed this already.”
“We did,” he admitted, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. “But I was hoping to revisit the conversation.”
She studied him, unsure whether to feel hopeful. “Has anything changed since we last spoke?”
Dominic met her gaze, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable. “Yes. Something has changed. I’ve come to realize… I don’t want to live without you.”
She could hear honesty in his words. Longing. But not quite what she needed to hear. Still, the one thing her heart craved above all remained unsaid.
Love.
She opened her mouth to speak, but just then, the back door opened, and Wright stepped outside.
“Forgive the interruption, my lady,” he said with a slight bow. “Lady Sarah and Mrs. Haverleigh have requested a moment of your time.”
Dorothea’s brows drew together. “They are here? Now?”
“Yes, my lady,” Wright confirmed.
Dominic turned, his jaw tightening at once. “Send them away.”
But Dorothea held up a hand. “Wait.”
He looked at her in disbelief. “Why? What could they possibly want from you now?”
She gently withdrew her hand from his. “Arabella has always been cruel to me,” she said. “But her mother—Lady Sarah—has never treated me with anything but kindness.”
Dominic looked unconvinced, his mouth drawn into a firm line. “Kindness is sometimes just diplomacy in finer clothing.”
“Perhaps,” Dorothea said. “But I still want to hear what she has to say. If only to understand her reasons for coming.”
“If they upset you…” Dominic started.
“I won’t let them,” she replied, her voice steady. “Not anymore.”
Dominic’s expression shifted from concern to admiration. “Would you like me to go with you?”
“I need to do this on my own.”
He relented after a moment. “Very well. But once they’ve gone, I’d like to revisit our earlier conversation.”
“I can agree to that.”
As she stepped through the rear door, a flicker of uncertainty tugged at her thoughts. She didn’t know what to anticipate from this unexpected call. But she knew one thing: she would not turn away Lady Sarah, who had always shown her courtesy, even if her daughter had not.
When she entered the drawing room, she saw both ladies were seated on the settee, their backs straight, expressions somber. Arabella’s lips were pinched in a pout, while Lady Sarah sat with her gloved hands folded neatly over the silver handle of her cane.
Dorothea cleared her throat lightly to announce her presence. “Good morning,” she said, keeping her tone polite.
Arabella scoffed. “What is good about it?”
Lady Sarah reached over and nudged her daughter’s arm with a sharp look. “Behave, Child.”
Arabella huffed and crossed her arms. “We should never have come here,” she muttered, her voice just loud enough to be heard.
Lady Sarah ignored her and lifted her gaze to Dorothea’s. “Thank you for agreeing to receive us,” she said. “I know this visit is… unexpected.”
“I admit, I am curious,” Dorothea replied, stepping farther into the room. “To what do I owe this morning call?”
Lady Sarah offered a strained smile. “Arabella has something she wishes to ask of you.”
Arabella gave her mother a side-glare but reluctantly leaned forward. “Do you actually plan to take all our money?”
Lady Sarah sighed. “No, no. That’s not the question we rehearsed. Do try again, darling.”
With a roll of her eyes and a begrudging tone, Arabella finally asked, “Would you allow us to remain in the townhouse… for a short while? At least until we can make other arrangements?”
“Was that so difficult?” Lady Sarah murmured.
Before Dorothea could respond, the door opened and a maid stepped in, balancing a silver tea tray in her hands.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of requesting tea,” Lady Sarah said. “I thought it might soothe everyone’s nerves.”
The maid moved briskly, setting the tray down on the carved table between the settee and armchairs.
“Would you care for me to pour, my lady?” the maid asked, turning to Dorothea.
“No, thank you,” Dorothea responded. “I shall attend to it myself.”
With another curtsy, the maid slipped quietly from the room.
Lady Sarah tapped her fingertips lightly against the top of her cane. “Now… where were we?” she asked, glancing around as if to gather the room’s attention. “Ah, yes—Arabella made her request, and we were just about to discuss it over a much-needed cup of tea.”