To others, perhaps, it was simple to speak up, asking for what one wanted. But she had been taught otherwise. In her brother’s house, silence was safer than honesty. Compliance was more valuable than opinion. Keep your head down, keep your voice soft, and no one would raise their voice in return. That had been engraved into her one bitter day at a time.
But now, she wasLady Warwicke. She had a place. A household to run. And a husband—however distant he may be. Maybe, just maybe… she could learn how to speak up again.
Dominic stood at the tall, arched window of his study, his gaze fixed on the gardens in front of him. The sunlight filtered through the glass, warming the dark wood paneling behind him as his eyes followed a solitary figure along the winding gravel path below.
Dorothea.
She moved with an effortless grace, her mourning gown brushing the gravel path as she walked. Occasionally, she would pause at one of the rose bushes, bending slightly to inhale the scent of the blooms with a soft smile. She looked entirely too content.
Dominic felt a pang in his chest, not of longing, but of guilt.
He harbored no ill will towards Dorothea. In truth, he admired her gentleness, her resilience. But admiration did not make a marriage, and certainly not one built on foggy memories and circumstances he could barely recall. He couldn’t remember proposing, much less saying his vows.
If anything, he pitied her for being tethered to a man so thoroughly changed from the one she had once known. He wasno longer that man. Whatever optimism or promise had existed in him before had been stripped away, leaving behind someone bruised, bitter, and half-healed.
Perhaps, if he moved quickly enough—gathered the right support in Parliament—he could secure an annulment. It was a slim chance, but one he would take. And he would not abandon Dorothea. No, she would be given a comfortable allowance, enough for a modest estate or townhome, somewhere quiet where she could live as she pleased, free from obligation.
In a way, he told himself, it would be a kindness.
As if sensing his gaze, Dorothea looked up. Their eyes met across the distance. She lifted a hand in greeting, a tentative smile blooming on her lips. Dominic felt his stomach twist. He forced himself to look away and crossed the room to his desk, not bothering to return the wave.
Just as he sank into his leather chair, Wright entered the room with a slight bow. “The bedchamber for Lady Warwicke has been prepared, my lord,” he announced.
Dominic barely glanced up. “Good,” he muttered. Why did it matter where Dorothea slept as long as it wasn’t with him?
Wright hesitated. “Lord Westcott and Lord Bedford have arrived and requested an audience. Shall I show them in?”
He nodded with a resigned sigh. “Yes, let’s get it over with.”
Moments later, Westcott and Bedford strolled in with the smug expressions of men who were entirely too pleased with themselves. Dominic didn’t even bother standing.
Westcott was the first to speak, his voice laced with amusement. “So… is it true?”
“Is what true?” Dominic asked, though he already had a sinking suspicion.
“That you’re married,” Westcott said, grinning broadly. “To Dorothea Haverleigh, of all people.”
Dominic groaned. “Is there a blasted smoke signal I’m unaware of? How did you hear about this so quickly?”
“Thetonwastes no time,” Bedford said, taking a seat without invitation. “Is it true, then?”
“It is,” Dominic admitted reluctantly. “But hopefully not for long.”
Westcott leaned forward, his grin fading slightly. “You’re serious?”
“Quite,” Dominic said. “I was hoping to enlist your help in petitioning for an annulment.”
Bedford raised a brow. “You think that’s possible?”
“Do you think it’s reasonable to be bound to someone you don’t even remember marrying?” Dominic snapped. “I was on my deathbed, delirious. According to her own words, I offered her marriage in some fevered state.”
“Were there witnesses?” Bedford asked, folding his arms.
“Apparently,” Dominic said with a grimace. “Enough to make it legal.”
Bedford glanced at Westcott, then leaned back in his chair. “Do you think she manipulated the situation? Married you to secure her future?”
“I don’t know,” Dominic said. “But I do know that Dorothea was kind to me. Before everything. That’s what I remember.”
