Chapter 21
Twenty-One
Philippa brought a heavy chair upholstered in worn velvet and helped Nell settle beside the bed.
The position was awkward, for Nell’s arm had to stretch across the mattress to maintain her grip on Dominic’s hand, but she cared nothing for her own comfort.
Couldn’t think about anything except the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth slowly returning to his fingers, the sound of his breathing in the quiet room.
“You should rest.” Philippa stood beside the chair, her hand resting gently on Nell’s shoulder. “I can sit with him for a while.”
“No.” Nell did not look away from Dominic’s pale face. “I promised him I would stay.”
Philippa remained quiet for a long moment, studying her. Then she nodded, a soft, knowing expression crossing her face.
“I will have them bring tea.” She stepped toward the door, straightening her shoulders as if forcing herself to hold onto calm. “And something for you to eat.”
Nell shook her head slightly, pressing a hand to her stomach as a wave of nausea twisted through her.
“Eat anyway.” Philippa lingered at the threshold, one hand resting lightly on the doorframe as she looked back. “He will need you to be strong when he wakes.”
When. Not if. Nell clung to the word like a lifeline, letting it anchor her as Philippa left.
At last, she was alone with him. She leaned over, studying his face now that the watchful eyes of the world had faded. In sleep, the sharp lines of his features softened, stripped of the armor he wore during the day. He looked younger this way. Vulnerable.
Her gaze traced the stark white ridge of the scar against his pale skin. Lower, she noticed the dark lashes resting against his cheeks and the rough shadow of stubble along his jaw. His lips were slightly parted, and his breath came slow and steady.
The room’s quiet seemed to peel away the pressure of titles and reputation. This wasn’t the powerful lord, the reckless rogue, for this was just Dominic.
“You idiot,” she murmured, brushing her thumb along the knuckles of his hand, the motion tender but tinged with frustration. “Riding in a storm… what were you thinking?”
He didn’t stir, his chest kept rising and falling in a calm rhythm.
Her hand clenched lightly in her lap. “You could have died.” Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard to push the words past the lump that caught in her throat. “You could have died, and I would have… I would have...”
She couldn’t find the words for the void that would have opened beneath her feet.
“I was so scared.” She admitted it to his sleeping face, the confession spilling out now that he couldn’t truly hear it. “That’s why I refused you. Not because you are reckless, or because of the ton, or because I cannot give you more children. It’s because you terrify me.”
He didn’t stir, but his hand felt warmer in hers.
“You make me feel things I swore I would never feel again.” The words were dredged up from a locked room in her heart.
“After Gabriel… after everything he did to me… I promised I would never let anyone have that power over me again. And then you came along with your misty eyes and your reckless mouth, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t...”
She stopped to draw a shaking breath.
“But then Philippa came. She said you were hurt, and I couldn’t think. I simply ran.” She laughed, a wet and broken sound. “I didn’t even hesitate. I didn’t think of the children, or the shop, or what the neighbors would say. I just… came.”
His hand twitched in hers. It was a small movement, but it was there.
“What does that mean?” She asked the quiet room and the flickering candles. “What does it mean when you run to someone without a single thought for yourself?”
She knew the answer. She’d known it all along, buried beneath the layers of fear, the denial, and the desperate need to protect herself from further ruin.
“I love you.” She whispered the words, her lips brushing against his knuckles as she spoke into the quiet of the room. “God help me. I love you.”
He didn’t hear her. His breathing stayed even and his face remained peaceful, his hand resting still within hers. But she’d needed to say it. She needed it to be true in the air, even if only to herself.
The storm passed sometime in the night. Nell didn’t notice when the rain stopped, nor when the thunder faded to a memory.
She was watching him breathe, counting the rise and fall of his chest and tracking the colour as it slowly returned to his cheeks.
She cataloged every twitch of his brow and every soft murmur he made in his sleep.
She didn’t sleep. She couldn’t.
Philippa came and went, bringing tea that grew cold in its porcelain cup and food that Nell didn’t touch.
The fire was stoked, the candles replaced, and blankets tucked more firmly around Dominic’s still form.
Servants moved in and out on quiet feet, speaking in hushed whispers and treating the sickroom like sacred ground.
Dawn arrived grey and pale, the light seeping through the gaps in the heavy curtains.
Nell’s back ached from her awkward position and her arm felt stiff from being stretched across the mattress all night.
She didn’t care. She could think of nothing except the warmth of his hand, the steady rhythm of his lungs, and the way his face looked in the growing light.
Edmund returned at first light. He carried his medical bag and his face was lined with exhaustion.
He crossed to the bed and began his examination, checking Dominic’s pupils with the light of a candle and pressing his fingers to the pulse at the man’s throat.
Finally, he unwrapped the bandage to inspect the wound.
“He is stable.” Edmund spoke at last, rewrapping the linen with careful hands. “That’s good. The swelling hasn’t worsened.”
“When will he wake?” Nell’s voice came out hoarse and rusty from her long hours of silence. She cleared her throat.
“When he is ready.” Edmund packed his bag and snapped the latch closed with a sharp metallic click. “The body knows what it needs.”
He paused at the door, looking back at her. He took in the dark circles under her eyes, her rumpled dress, and the way her hand was still clasped tightly around Dominic’s.
“You haven’t slept.” He adjusted his coat, his gaze lingering on her tired form.
“I cannot.” It was a simple, undeniable truth.
“He is lucky.” Edmund said it in a low voice. Something unreadable crossed his face for a moment. “To have someone who refuses to leave his side.”
“Edmund.” She started to speak, not entirely sure what she wanted to say. Perhaps she meant to thank him, or perhaps to offer another apology for the pain she’d caused him.
“Don’t.” He held up a hand to stop her, his expression gentle and weary. “You don’t need to apologize. I understand now. I think I always did.”
He left then. The door clicked softly behind him, leaving her alone once more.
Nell turned back to Dominic, watching his face in the grey morning light. “Wake up.” She whispered the plea, squeezing his hand like she could pull his consciousness back to the room. “Please. Wake up.”
It happened slowly. A twitch came first. His fingers curled around hers with more strength than before. Then a groan followed, low and pained, as his head turned on the pillow. Movement stirred under his closed lids, as if he were fighting his way back through fog.
“Dominic?” Nell leaned closer. Her heart hammered against her ribs. “Dominic, can you hear me?”
His eyes opened. At first, they did not settle. He blinked against the pale light. Confusion clouded the grey.
“Where...” The word scraped out, little more than a dry friction against his teeth. He swallowed hard, his throat working with a visible, parched effort.
“Bramwell Park.” She squeezed his hand, letting her fingers linger, and leaned close until the warmth of his body pressed against hers. “You’re home. You fell from your horse.”
He stared at her, disbelief etched across his face. “Nell?” The name hovered on his lips, fragile and searching.
“I’m here.” She leaned closer, brushing her thumb over his knuckles, letting him feel her steady presence.
“You… you’re here.” His brow furrowed like the words themselves required effort. “But you… you told me to stay away.”
“I know.” Her thumb moved over his hand in a constant, soothing circle.
“You slapped me.” A faint, almost incredulous smile brushed his lips.
She couldn’t stop the twitch in her own. “You deserved it.”
“Probably.” His eyes closed briefly, then snapped open, trying to anchor himself to the moment. “Why are you here?”
“Philippa came for me.” Her hand shook slightly as she kept it on his. She took a slow breath to steady herself. “She said you were hurt. She said you were saying my name.”
“Always.” His chest rose and fell with the word, his gaze sharpening, holding her with a mixture of wonder and need. “Always your name. Even in my dreams.”
“Dominic...” She began, but he cut her off with a subtle tilt of his head.
“You came.” Something like astonishment—or relief—softened his features.
“I came.” She didn’t move her hand from his, letting the grip anchor her.
“Why?” He searched her face, waiting for the answer she wasn’t ready to give.
She swallowed, her lips pressed together. “Because I couldn’t not come.”
His hand tightened around hers, the pressure both urgent and grounding. “Say it again.”
She repeated it, letting her chest rise with the words, though they came quietly. “I couldn’t not come.”
“No.” His grip increased, steadying her. He didn’t need to speak; the tension in his fingers said everything. He leaned toward her slightly, eyes unflinching. “What you said earlier. When you thought I was asleep.”
Her stomach dropped. Heat and dread rushed through her. “You heard that?”
He blinked slowly, holding her gaze. “Say it again. Please. Nell. Say it again.”
Her fingers trembled as they brushed his forehead, pushing a loose strand of hair back. She shook her head slightly and pressed gently, insistently, against his chest. “Rest. You need to rest.”
“Nell.” He tried to lift himself, wincing as the movement tugged at his injury.
“Later.” Her hands held him firmly against the pillows. “We will talk later. When you are stronger.”
His back teeth ground together, but the pressure of exhaustion claimed him. His grip on her hand loosened, though he didn’t let go completely, while slowly, his eyelids fell, and his breathing evened as he drifted into deep sleep.
She stayed.
Hours later, Philippa found her still seated beside him, clutching his hand, her head resting lightly against the chair’s back. The afternoon sun had turned watery, spilling pale light across the room.
“He woke.” Nell’s hand didn’t move. Her gaze stayed fixed on him, unblinking. “He spoke to me.”
Philippa sank into the chair opposite, pressing a hand to her chest. Relief washed over her in slow waves. “Thank God. I was so afraid.”
“I know.” Nell replied.
A comfortable silence settled between them. The worst of the fear had finally passed.
“He asked why I came.” Nell said quietly, her eyes fixed on Dominic’s sleeping face. “I didn’t know what to tell him.”
“Did you not?” Philippa’s voice was gentle and knowing.
Nell finally looked at her friend. She saw the woman who had raised him and who understood the truth long before Nell had been willing to accept it.
“I was so determined to be sensible.” The words tumbled out of her now.
“I was so determined not to make the same mistakes I made with my late husband, Gabriel. I wanted to protect my children, yet I wanted to build a life that no one could take from me. And then you came and said he was hurt, and I… I couldn’t stay away. ”
“You love him.” Philippa said it as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.
“I refused him.” Nell’s voice cracked.
“And yet here you are.” Philippa gestured toward their intertwined hands. “You’ve been here all night. You haven’t let go of his hand once.”
Nell looked down at their fingers. His large hand engulfed her smaller one, holding on even in his dreams.
“I don’t know how to do this.” It was a whisper, barely audible. “I don’t know how to let myself...”
“You don’t have to know.” Philippa leaned forward. “You just have to stay.”
Stay. It was a simple word, yet it felt like the most terrifying thing in the world. She looked at Dominic, his breathing steady and the colour returning to his face; and she’d come when he needed her. She hadn’t hesitated.
Perhaps that was the only answer that mattered. She didn’t let go of his hand.