He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “After my father died, my uncle came to find me. Said it was time I stepped up and behaved like a proper gentleman. Offered to buy mea commission into the Royal Army, and I—foolishly, perhaps—accepted. I thought I might actually be able to make a difference.”
He stared down at the crust of bread in his hand. “But nothing prepared me for what I saw on the Continent. No training. No lecture. Nothing.”
Dorothea’s voice was soft. “Neither was I.”
Dominic looked over at her, curious. “Why did you go with your father to war?”
She gave a faint shrug. “What choice did I have? I could stay with my brother—who resented my very presence—or go with my father, where I was wanted. Where I was loved.” She smiled wistfully. “For me, it was an easy decision.”
“But you were exposed to the horrors of war. That kind of life is not meant for a young woman.”
“No,” she said, her voice trembling just a little, “but I would do it all again if it meant more time with him.” Her eyes dropped to her lap, and then, softer still, “And with you.”
That final admission hung in the air like a suspended breath.
Dominic stared at her, unsure of what to say to her. The way her gaze remained fixed on her hands told him she hadn’t meant to say it so plainly. And yet… it was there. Honest. Raw.
Before Dominic could form a single response to Dorothea’s unexpected confession, the sound of soft footsteps echoed from the stairwell.
Instantly, he became acutely aware of just how close he and Dorothea had been sitting. He pushed back from the table and rose to his feet, creating a proper—and respectable—distance between them. The last thing he needed was for the servants to start gossiping about late-night rendezvous between their lord and his young bride.
A moment later, a small figure emerged from the shadows of the narrow staircase. Tristan padded into the kitchen, hisnightshirt trailing nearly to his ankles, his tousled brown hair flattened on one side from sleep. He glanced around the room until his eyes landed on Dominic.
“Lord Warwicke?” he asked sleepily, rubbing one eye. “What are you doing up?”
Dominic raised a brow. “What amIdoing up? You’re the one who should be in bed.”
Tristan’s expression fell with sheepish guilt. “I was hungry, and the maid who usually brings me food fell asleep.”
Dominic sighed, his tone more indulgent than stern. “Very well. A crust of bread and a glass of water. Then it’s straight back to bed.”
Dorothea rose smoothly from her chair. “That’s hardly sufficient for a growing boy,” she said. “Let me see if I can find where the butter is kept.”
“There’s no need—” Dominic began, but his words faltered as Dorothea was already crossing the kitchen, scanning the cupboards with determined purpose.
“Ah-ha!” she exclaimed a moment later, holding up a small crock. “I simply hadn’t looked hard enough before.”
Tristan moved towards the counter, his eyes lighting up as he approached the bread. “Thank you, my lady,” he said with an awkward little bow.
Dominic stepped in to formally introduce them, placing a hand on the boy’s narrow shoulder. “This is Tristan. He’s staying here while his mother recovers in the hospital.”
Dorothea’s expression softened immediately. “How is your mother faring, Tristan?”
“She’s still sick,” he answered, “but the doctor said he’d fix her up. And I get to sleep in a real bed with feathers in it.” He made a face. “I hate sleeping on the ground.”
Dorothea knelt slightly so she could look him in the eye. “You slept on the ground?”
Tristan nodded. “Mum and I used to sleep in an alleyway. It’s been like that since she lost her job as a lady’s maid.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” she said.
“It’s all right,” he said with a shrug. “Before that, we shared a bed stuffed with straw, and the bits always poked through. I almost prefer the floor.”
Dominic watched Dorothea as she glanced over at him, her brows slightly drawn, her eyes filled with silent questions.
He cleared his throat. “I found Tristan on the street.”
The boy grinned cheekily. “I tried to pickpocket him but he caught me. Wasn’t mad either. He still helped me and Mum.”
