“This is you being tolerant?” Bedford asked.
Dominic downed the remainder of his drink and stood. “Good day, gentlemen.”
“No, don’t go,” Westcott said, leaning forward. “I’ll make Bedford promise to behave. Sit. Tell us what’s weighing on your mind.”
Dominic hesitated. A part of him wanted nothing more than to be alone. But another part—the quieter, more uncertain part—wanted to say it aloud. To speak the thing he had been dwelling on since last night.
“I’ll stay,” he said, slowly returning to his seat. “Assuming Bedford doesn’t say anything intolerably stupid.”
“He most absolutely will,” Westcott assured him. “Just by opening his mouth.”
“Hurtful, but also accurate,” Bedford said with a smile.
Westcott glanced at Dominic. “What happened?”
Dominic stared into his empty glass. “Dorothea nearly died last night.”
That silenced them both.
Westcott straightened, concern etched onto his features. “What do you mean?”
“A maid lit a fire in her room but forgot to open the damper. I found her unconscious, the room filled with smoke,” Dominic shared.
Bedford’s humor vanished. “Is she all right?”
“She is now,” Dominic replied. “Doctor Taylor was examining her when I left. But I couldn’t stay there any longer. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.” He paused. “She was asleep. Peaceful. And all I could think about was what would’ve happened if I hadn’t come home when I did.”
Westcott gave a slow nod. “I am glad that you found her when you did.”
Dominic’s jaw tensed, the muscle near his ear twitching as he fought to contain his emotions. “I keep replaying it in my head. The what-ifs. The smoke. Her not waking up.”
Westcott leaned in slightly. “Are you still planning to go through with the annulment?”
“I never said I wasn’t.”
“No,” Westcott agreed. “But your face says otherwise.”
Dominic gave a bitter laugh. “I care for her. Enough to let her go.”
Bedford furrowed his brow. “That’s absurd. Why is it you’re allowed to say completely ridiculous things and I get scolded for it?”
Dominic shot him a look. “Because you enjoy being irritating.”
“Guilty as charged,” Bedford responded.
Westcott exhaled and looked at Dominic. “Have you even bothered to ask Dorothea what she wants?”
“I’ve tried,” Dominic admitted. “But I keep getting interrupted.”
“Try harder,” Westcott said. “Have you considered she might want to stay married to you?”
“Please,” Bedford said, raising a hand. “We all know she can’t be happy. She’s married to Warwicke.”
Dominic turned to him, his lips pursed. “I might shoot you.”
“If you do, you’ll end up in Newgate,” Bedford replied with a shrug.
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
