Dorothea’s lips parted in astonishment. “You’re a lord?”
He nodded. “Which makes you a baroness. You no longer have to live under this roof, or wear mourning gowns for a man who isn’t dead.”
She took his hand slowly. “This… this is unbelievable.”
Her brother scoffed. “And I, for one, do not believe it.”
Dominic looked him squarely in the eyes. “Fortunately, I don’t require your permission. Dorothea will be leaving with me.”
“No!” the blonde woman suddenly burst out. “Dorothea can’t leave! She’s—she’s family!”
Dominic’s assessing gaze flicked to her. “I’ve seen how you treat your family. Heaven help your enemies.”
Matthew stepped forward, fists clenched. “Dorothea, you don’t want to leave, do you? Tell this man you don’t know who he is.”
Dorothea faltered, her shoulders drooping slightly under her brother’s command. But then, slowly, she raised her chin. “I’msorry, Matthew. But this is my husband. And I want to go with him.”
Matthew’s expression darkened. He took another step, but Dominic stepped in front of Dorothea.
“If you ever touch my wife again,” he said in a low, warning tone, “it will be the last thing you ever do.”
Matthew’s face twisted in fury. “Then go. But know this—if you walk out that door, Dorothea, you are no longer welcome here.”
A brittle laugh escaped Arabella’s lips. “Matthew is being dramatic. You can always come back?—”
“Stay out of this, Arabella!” Matthew barked.
Dorothea clutched Dominic’s arm and leaned into him. He turned his head, his voice soft for her alone. “Shall we?”
“Yes,” she said with relief in her tone.
As Dominic led Dorothea out of the study, his heart pounded with a strange, conflicting rhythm—half-disbelief, half-resolve. He hadn’t planned this. He had arrived with a purpose, clear and simple: confront his wife and demand an annulment. It should have been quick, clean. Emotionless.
Instead, he was taking her home.
A thousand questions clamored in his mind, but only one truth rang clear: he couldn’t walk away. Not from her.The thought of leaving her in that suffocating house with a brother who wielded cruelty like a badge of honor—it turned his stomach. No, he hated bullies. Always had. His father’s voice still echoed in his nightmares and Dorothea’s brother was cut from the same cloth.
He glanced down at her as they crossed into the corridor. Her hand rested lightly on his arm, and he gave it a gentle pat. She looked up at him, and what he saw in her eyes stopped him cold.
Trust. Quiet, unwavering trust.
It hit him like a punch to the chest.
Some faces carried the weight of memory so deep, so ingrained, that simply seeing them felt like coming home. That’s what Dorothea was to him.Home.And in that instant, his mind began to unlock—rusted doors creaked open, long-forgotten moments pouring in like warm light. Hushed conversations by his bedside. Stolen glances. The way her smile had managed to anchor him during the torturous haze of recovery.
His steps faltered as the memories swelled. So much he had buried. So much he thought he’d lost.
Behind them, boots struck the floor with purposeful strides. Matthew’s voice rang out across the entry hall. “Fine!Go, then! Do as you please. I don’t care what you do—not anymore!”
Dorothea stopped and turned slowly to face her brother, her chin lifting just slightly. “Goodbye, Matthew,” she responded. Her voice was calm, but there was an undeniable tremor in it.
Before she could move again, Arabella stepped forward quickly, her expression conflicted. She threw her arms around Dorothea, the embrace stiff despite the sentiment.
“We shall miss you, dear sister,” she said. “I will see to it that your trunks are packed.”
Dominic stepped between them the moment Arabella released her. “We’ll send a coach to collect her things. She will not be setting foot in this house again.”
Arabella nodded her understanding and took a step back. “Yes, my lord.”
