Chapter 29 #2
“I would regret the opposite for the rest of my life. Choosing my wife over you was never in question, which is precisely why you had to orchestrate it all.”
That did it.
Something in her finally broke. Without another word, she turned and walked out.
No one moved until the front door slammed shut, the sound echoing off the walls. The following silence felt enormous.
Eleanor released a breath. “Well,” she said, looking between them. “That was dramatic.”
Anne was still trying to recover from everything that had just happened when footsteps sounded again in the corridor, this time heavier, more purposeful.
Mr. Pembroke appeared in the doorway, with the butler close behind him, both looking grim.
Dorian turned to him immediately. “What is it?”
Pembroke’s expression was tight with restrained anger as he stepped fully inside, holding several folded papers in his hand.
“There is more,” he said. “I have just spoken with one of Holloway’s men. Holloway has attempted to leave the area as well, with luggage.”
Eleanor let out a humorless laugh. “Did he get far?”
“No,” Pembroke replied. “Lord Harrow intercepted him before he could leave the grounds.”
That coaxed the faintest smile from Dorian.
Anne knew that Tristan was a good friend to her husband, but it was nice to hear proof of it.
“Of course he did,” Dorian said.
Pembroke held up the papers. “And when pressed, one of Holloway’s stable contacts finally broke. Holloway was not merely assisting Lady Vivian. He was deeply involved. The—Your Grace, the sabotage began with him.”
Dorian went utterly still.
Pembroke unfolded one of the papers and handed it to him. “He had been quietly betting against Ashford for months through intermediaries. Heavy sums were used, enough to recover his losses after Tempest’s defeat and profit from your public humiliation.”
“He wanted Tempest to lose,” Anne said softly. “Is that it?”
“Yes,” Pembroke replied grimly. “But it went beyond money. He resented you, Your Grace.”
“Why?” Dorian asked.
Pembroke exhaled. “Because Ashford recovered. He invested when the estate was weak. He expected dependence and influence, but once Tempest began improving, once Her Grace became involved, once investors started returning… well, he began losing leverage. He wanted Ashford vulnerable again.”
Anne gasped in disbelief. She had done everything she could to help, and all the while, someone had been trying to make her fail.
“All this because he was losing leverage?”
“When their pride is involved, men can become dangerous.”
Pembroke looked at Dorian again, hesitating briefly at his unreadable expression, before continuing. “Holloway believed you wasted what your father built. He viewed you as reckless, and he believed Ashford should have been controlled by someone more practical.”
“So he smiled to our faces while actively trying to destroy everything.”
“Yes,” he said bluntly.
“And Lady Vivian?” Dorian asked.
“They used each other. Lady Vivian wanted your marriage broken. Holloway wanted Ashford weakened. Their goals aligned.”
Anne’s stomach turned.
Pembroke unfolded another letter, and this time he handed it to her. “We found correspondence between them. She fed him information about household tensions. He used stable contacts to interfere with Tempest’s training. Together, they spread rumors about your marriage to widen the fracture.”
Anne’s breath caught. None of it was a coincidence.
Dorian’s face had gone cold in a way that was almost unnerving.
She looked at him carefully. His anger no longer felt explosive.
It felt absolute, and yet she was still not afraid at all.
She never could be. He was the kindest, most gentle man she had ever known, and his justified anger did not threaten her in the slightest.
After a long silence, he spoke.
“He believed I was weak. He was right.” His voice was calm but sharp enough to cut.
“I was weak, just not in the way he believed. I gave them room to succeed because I allowed fear to rule me. Holloway and Lady Vivian may have orchestrated it all, but I let it happen because I failed to trust what stood in front of me.”
Anne stared at him, not knowing what to say.
Dorian turned back to Pembroke. “What happens now?”
“Holloway is finished; that much is clear. Once this reaches the investors, he will lose every ounce of credibility he has spent decades building. No one in racing will trust him again. No one respectable will publicly associate with him after this.”
Anne exhaled slowly. A man who had built his entire life on his reputation would lose everything if it were to collapse.
“Make sure every single person knows exactly why,” Dorian instructed.
“It will be done.”
Silence settled over the house after Pembroke left. No one seemed eager to speak. Too much had happened in too little time, and the weight of it lingered heavily in the air.
Lady Vivian was gone, Holloway had been exposed, and months of lies and manipulation had finally been dragged into the light. Yet Anne barely registered any of it. Her attention remained focused entirely on Dorian.
He looked exhausted, emotionally stripped bare in a way she had never seen before, and yet there was a steadiness about him that had not existed before. The uncertainty, the self-protective distance, the constant restraint—so much of it had finally fallen away.
For the first time since she had known him, he looked like a man with nothing left hidden.
Anne felt her chest tighten. He had chosen honesty. He had chosen her.
He met her gaze, but he did not move toward her. She understood why.
He had fought for her. He had been through the storm and had spoken every truth he had spent years avoiding, and he was leaving the next step entirely in her hands.
The realization hit her so hard it nearly stole her breath. He was waiting, not because he doubted her but because he respected her enough to let her choose freely.
She moved before she could talk herself out of it.
Eleanor’s eyes widened slightly as Anne crossed the floor with sudden purpose. Dorian’s expression shifted into startled confusion as she reached him, but he barely had time to inhale before she grabbed the front of his coat and pulled him down toward her.
Then she kissed him.
It was not gentle. It was not careful. It was everything she had held back for too long. She poured it all into the kiss with enough force to make him stumble half a step before instinct took over.
His hands moved immediately, one wrapping around her waist and the other rising to her face, as if he needed to be certain that she was real. Then he kissed her back with a desperation that matched her own, every last wall between them collapsing at once.
Anne barely cared that anyone was watching them. She barely cared that her mother and half the household could walk in on them at any moment. When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard.
Dorian stared at her as though he still could not believe what had just happened. Her hands remained clenched in his coat.
“You absolute fool.” Her voice trembled slightly, though her gaze never wavered.
A breathless, disbelieving laugh escaped him.
Anne’s eyes suddenly stung with tears she had been holding back for far too long. “I love you too,” she whispered.
The words shattered something in Dorian. Anne saw it happen—the disbelief, followed by relief. His forehead dropped to hers, and he closed his eyes, his breathing slightly unsteady.
“You have no idea what hearing that does to me,” he said roughly.
Anne’s grip loosened, before her hands slid up, cupping his face. “Then I will spend the rest of my life showing you.”
Dorian opened his eyes. Whatever he saw in her expression seemed to undo him entirely. When he kissed her again, it was softer but no less intense. It carried none of the desperation from earlier.
Behind them, Eleanor let out a long breath.
“Well,” she said dryly. “I did say I was right.”
Despite everything, Anne laughed.
Dorian laughed too, the sound rough and disbelieving and freer than she had ever heard it.
For the first time in what felt like forever, nothing stood between them. And Anne planned to make the most of it.