Wright nodded and withdrew, but a moment later, a voice like a thunderclap echoed down the corridor. “Warwicke!”
Dorothea flinched at the sound. “He sounds furious. Do you think he’s discovered the missing wills?”
“I do,” Dominic said, standing and adjusting his coat. “But it matters not. I have no intention of returning them.”
She rose beside him. “May I come with you?”
Dominic hesitated, studying her face. “Are you certain? You don’t need to confront him.”
Her eyes sharpened. “He lied to me. Tried to cheat me out of what is rightfully mine. I want to be there when he realizes he’s lost.”
He offered his hand. “Then we shall face him together.”
“Together. I rather like the sound of that,” she said, accepting his arm.
As he led her towards the entry hall, a silent sigh lodged in his chest. He had hoped Haverleigh wouldn’t discover the missing documents until after the new will had been filed in probate court. But it hardly mattered now. He would face whatever storm came—for her.
In the entryway, Haverleigh stopped pacing and turned at the sound of their steps. His face was mottled with rage.
“How dare you!” he roared.
Dominic remained calm. “It would be best if we discussed this in private. Follow me to my study.”
Without waiting for a response, he guided Dorothea into the study, and Haverleigh’s heavy, angry footsteps trailed after them.
Once inside, Dominic turned. “Now then—what has you so distraught?”
“You know perfectly well what you’ve done!” Haverleigh growled.
Dominic feigned confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t. Would you care to enlighten me?”
“You stole the wills.”
“Wills?” Dominic echoed, his tone light. “Plural? So there were two?”
Haverleigh stepped forward until he stood just inches away. “Don’t play games with me, Warwicke. I know you have them, and I want them back.”
Dominic’s gaze didn’t flicker. “You’re right. I have them. And no, you may not have them back.”
“So you admit it.”
“I do. And I intend to file the most recent will with the probate court because your father wanted Dorothea to inherit, and I mean to honor that.”
Haverleigh’s face darkened. “Absolutely not! My father was not of sound mind when he wrote that second will.”
In a clear, steady voice, Dorothea replied, “I disagree.”
Haverleigh’s gaze snapped to her. “Of course you do. You’re eager to steal what’s mine.”
Dorothea stood her ground, lifting her chin. “You are the one who stole from me. Father saw the kind of man you were—are—and he did what he could to protect me.”
“You know nothing.”
“But I do,” she replied. “I know that you dismissed my grief, denied me choices, and treated me like a burden. Father knew it, too.”
Haverleigh’s nostrils flared. He began pacing like a caged animal. “What if I released your dowry to you? Is that enough for you?”
“No, because I will no longer accept scraps from a table that should have been mine,” Dorothea replied.
