Before Dorothea could reply, the door creaked open and Wright stepped in and announced, “Pardon the interruption, my lord, but a Mr.—”
“Send him away!” Dominic shouted. “I plan to spend the rest of the day with my wife. Uninterrupted.”
Wright inclined his head. “Very good, my lord,” he said before retreating with a bow.
Dorothea gave Dominic a stern look, though she found the whole thing amusing. “That was rather impolite.”
He reached out and tucked a loose curl behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. “Work can wait,” he murmured. “Butyou… you, I will never make wait again.”
Heat rushed to her face as her smile returned. “I believe we were about to go upstairs.”
Instead of replying, Dominic stepped back and—without warning—swept her up into his arms. She let out a small gaspof surprise before wrapping her arms around his neck, laughing breathlessly.
“You will hear no complaints from me,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple as he carried her towards the doorway.
Just as they crossed into the entry hall, a blur of movement caught their attention. Tristan stood in the entryway, proudly clutching an inflated pig bladder like a prized treasure.
“Look what Mrs. Dawson gave me!” Tristan shouted. “I’m going to kick it in the gardens!”
Dominic came to an abrupt halt, still cradling Dorothea in his arms. “That sounds… delightful,” he said.
Tristan bounced on his heels with excitement. “Would you like to join me? It’s much more fun to kick it with other people.”
Dorothea bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a giggle and looked up at Dominic. “It does sound like an excellent way to spend the afternoon.”
“As tempting as that sounds,” Dominic said, “Dorothea and I are otherwise engaged at the moment.”
Tristan tilted his head, thoroughly unconvinced. “But what’s more fun than kicking a pig bladder around?”
Dominic shifted Dorothea higher in his arms and gave the boy a crooked smile. “I can think of a few things,” he replied, a teasing note in his voice. “But we will join you later. Much later.”
“All right. I’ll go see if my mum wants to play instead. She’s very good at kicking things,” Tristan said.
Without waiting for further comment, he darted off towards the servants’ corridor, kicking the inflated bladder ahead of him with a loud squelch.
Dominic shook his head as he turned back to Dorothea. “That boy is going to rule the household by the end of the month.”
“He already does. You’re just too smitten to notice,” she said. “Now, where were we?”
“You mentioned something about carrying you upstairs and distracting you thoroughly.”
“Ah, yes,” she said, looping her arms more tightly around his neck. “Do carry on.”
“With pleasure.” He resumed his stride, every step purposeful, as Dorothea’s laughter echoed through the halls behind them—a sweet, unguarded sound that filled every corner with the promise of love, of healing, and of a future no longer shadowed by fear.
21
It was well past midday when Dominic finally emerged from his bedchamber, the heavy door clicking softly behind him. He moved quietly, not wishing to wake Dorothea, who was still asleep in their bed. They had returned late from Vauxhall Gardens the night before, staying up until the earliest blush of dawn to admire the fireworks that painted the sky in bursts of silver and scarlet.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. He had never imagined that marriage could feel like this—like companionship rather than obligation. Dorothea had surprised him at every turn. She was kind, intelligent, unyielding in spirit, and wholly unlike any woman he had ever known. She didn’t just hold his affection—she commanded his admiration. And perhaps, if he were brave enough to admit it, she had begun to restore a part of him he thought long dead.
As he descended the staircase, the quiet hush of the household was broken by a sharp knock that echoed across the marble floors of the entry hall. Wright emerged from the corridor and made his way to the door. He pulled it open to reveal Constable Prentice, his face grave.
“Constable Prentice,” Dominic greeted as he stepped off the last stair, his boots clicking against the floor.
“My lord,” the constable said with a respectful incline of his head. “I was hoping to have a word with you, if you’ve a moment.”
“Certainly,” Dominic replied. “We can speak in my study.”
