Some would call her foolish for staying. For loving a man who had once sought to cast her aside. But she knew better. She knew the man she'd fallen in love with still lived beneath the shadows of regret and duty. And in moments like this, when his walls dropped, she caught a glimpse of the future she dared to hope for.
A knock interrupted her thoughts, followed quickly by the soft creak of the door. Tabitha stepped in with a tray balanced in her hands.
“Since you missed breakfast, Mrs. Dawson sent this up for you,” her lady’s maid announced.
“That was kind of her,” Dorothea murmured, though her eyes remained fixed on the gardens.
Tabitha crossed the room and set the tray down on the table before drifting to the window to join her. “I do so love hearing Tristan laugh.”
“You have a remarkable boy,” Dorothea replied.
“I think so, too—when he’s not climbing on the furniture or hiding frogs in my shoes,” Tabitha teased with a fond smile.
Dorothea turned to her. “Have you given any more thought to what Dominic offered? Your own household?—”
But Tabitha raised a hand, stilling her words. “I’m happy here.”
“Then… perhaps you might consider being my companion?”
A firmer shake of her head followed. “No, my lady. I’m content as I am. I like my place in this house, close to you and to Tristan.”
“But if you had your own home?—”
“I’d miss this,” Tabitha said simply, motioning to the scene outside. “I want Tristan to grow up surrounded by people who love him. Including Lord Warwicke. He’s a fine man.”
“That he is,” Dorothea agreed.
Tabitha offered a knowing smile. “Our arrangement may not be conventional, but I wouldn’t change it.”
“Then we shall keep it just as it is,” Dorothea said, returning her smile.
Another knock came at the door. Tabitha moved to answer it and a maid entered, dipping into a quick curtsy.
“A Mr. Stevens is here to see Lady Warwicke,” she announced. “He says he’s Lord Warwicke’s uncle.”
Dorothea’s brow lifted. “Very well. Please show him into the drawing room.”
Once the maid departed, Tabitha turned to her with urgency. “We must dress you at once, my lady.”
Not long after, Dorothea descended the stairs dressed in a soft green morning gown that brought a touch of color to her cheeks. Her hair had been gathered into a loose chignon, a few wisps escaping to soften her features. She felt oddly nervous but also curious. Dominic had spoken highly of his uncle, with rare affection.
As she entered the drawing room, her eyes fell on a tall, broad-shouldered gentleman whose hair was white at the temples, though streaks of black still lingered. There was something in his bearing, in the quiet strength of his stance, that reminded her strikingly of Dominic.
He turned at her approach and bowed deeply. “My lady,” he said with warm formality. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
She dipped into a curtsy. “It is my pleasure, sir.”
A smile broke across his face, gentle and sincere. “Please. We are family now. You may call me Adam.”
“Then you must call me Dorothea,” she replied, stepping farther into the room.
Adam studied her for a thoughtful moment, then said with a glint of humor, “So you are the woman who managed to capture my nephew’s heart.”
Her cheeks flushed. “He captured mine as well.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” Adam said. “He was always determined to remain unwed—as if solitude could atone for his past. So you can imagine my delight when I saw the news in the newssheets.”
“What news?”
