But still… he looked at her. Held her gaze and felt himself unraveling, bit by bit. He got lost in her eyes, and he found himself wishing, irrationally, that he could remain there forever.
A small furrow formed between her brows. “Dominic,” she murmured.
The sound of his name on her lips—so soft, so filled with care—cracked something open inside him. He realized, then, that his feelings for her were no longer fleeting or fragile. They had taken hold deep in his chest.
And that terrified him more than anything else.
He took a step back, severing the space between them. “I should go.”
He didn’t miss the flash of disappointment that passed over her face, nor the way her posture subtly wilted. “Please don’t,” she said, her voice scarcely more than a whisper.
“I must,” he replied, struggling to keep his voice even. “Besides, you need rest. I’ll have the cook send up more biscuits for you.”
“Thank you.”
He glanced towards the adjoining door between their chambers. “Wright mentioned your room has been thoroughly cleaned and aired out. It’s safe for you to return now.”
“I shall do so at once,” she said, her gaze dropping to the floorboards.
He lingered for a moment longer, torn between guilt and restraint. Part of him longed to close the distance again, to apologize, to say anything that would wipe away the sadness in her voice. But what she needed from him, he wasn’t ready to give.
“I’ll be dining at the club again tonight,” he added.
“Very well.”
Her tone was polite, measured. But the sadness was unmistakable, and it hollowed him out to hear it, knowing he was the reason behind it.
“Good day, Dorothea.”
He turned to leave as she said, “Goodbye, Dominic.”
The wordgoodbyesettled heavily on his shoulders. He didn’t stop walking. It wasn’t until he reached the entry hall that he saw Wright approaching from the far end.
“Mr. Wells is here to see you, my lord,” the butler informed him. “He’s waiting in your study.”
“Thank you.” Dominic moved to continue on, but paused. “Would you see that more biscuits are delivered to Lady Warwicke’s chamber? And… perhaps some flowers as well. Something bright. Cheerful.”
Wright inclined his head. “At once, my lord.”
With a nod of appreciation, Dominic turned and strode towards the study. The door was already ajar, and as he stepped inside, he found Mr. Wells standing at the center of the room, a well-worn satchel clutched in one hand.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Wells,” Dominic said, making his way to the desk.
The solicitor gave a respectful nod. “Good afternoon, my lord. I looked into the matter we discussed.”
Now, Mr. Wells had his full attention. “And what did you discover?”
Mr. Wells crossed the room and set the satchel down on the settee before removing a small stack of documents. “The stipends you arranged for Lady Warwicke were never received by her directly. They were deposited into an account controlled by her brother. There is no record of your wife ever being made aware of the source of those funds.”
Dominic’s jaw clenched. “As I suspected. Her own brother was stealing from her.”
“It appears so,” Wells confirmed. “Moreover, I attempted to speak with Mr. Haverleigh regarding his sister’s dowry. He claims she was not given one.”
Dominic raised a brow. “Dorothea has no dowry?”
“I’m still attempting to verify the truth of that claim,” Wells said. “But Mr. Haverleigh has not been forthcoming, and complicating matters further—the late Lieutenant-Colonel Haverleigh’s will is not filed with the probate court.”
Dominic sat behind his desk, frowning. “That seems… unlikely. A man of his rank and discipline would not have left his affairs in disarray.”
