As she walked towards the door, Dominic’s voice trailed behind her. “Thank you, Dorothea.” The words held a sincerity that she had yet to hear from him.
She paused at the open door and turned back to look at him. “You are welcome.”
Dominic smiled at her, and for the first time, it reached his eyes. “Until later.”
With a small nod, Dorothea slipped quietly from the room, the door closing behind her with a gentle click.
Dominic adjusted his cravat as he stared in front of the mirror. The sun was streaming through the long windows in his bedchamber. The faintest hint of lavender lingered in the air, reminding him of Dorothea and the words she had said just hours before.
Her words comforted him in a way that nothing had before. Perhaps it was the way she had looked at him—with quiet understanding instead of pity, with no trace of judgment in her eyes. And when her fingers had entwined with his, suddenly and without explanation, life made sense.
Behind him, his valet cleared his throat. “Will there be anything else, my lord?”
Dominic released his cravat and lowered his hands. “Not at this time. I am going riding with Lady Warwicke.”
“Very good, my lord.”
With a nod of dismissal, Dominic crossed the room, the heels of his boots clicking on the floor. He opened the door and stepped into the corridor. Just as it shut behind him, the tapestry at the far end of the hallway lifted, and a tousle-haired Tristan emerged from behind it with a wide grin.
“Good morning, my lord,” the boy said cheerfully, as if he had done nothing the least bit suspicious.
Dominic raised a brow. “May I ask what you were doing in the servants’ corridors?”
“I was exploring,” Tristan said, utterly unrepentant. “They’re everywhere in this townhouse. Like a maze.”
“That they are,” Dominic said with a sigh, “but they are meant for the servants, not for young boys with a habit of mischief. And where, may I ask, is the maid assigned to keep an eye on you?”
Tristan shrugged as if it were hardly worth mentioning. “I’m not quite sure. I left while she was fetching my breakfast.”
Dominic gave him a look meant to be stern, though it was softened by reluctant amusement. “I would prefer if you remained under her care.”
“But Anna is so dull,” Tristan complained. “She insists I sit still and eat oatmeal. I’m not used to someone trailing after me like a lost duckling.”
Before Dominic could offer a rebuttal, a nearby door opened and Dorothea stepped out into the corridor. She was dressed in a blue riding habit and her red hair had been pulled neatly into a chignon at the nape of her neck.
“Good morning, my lady,” Tristan chirped.
Dorothea jumped slightly. “Gracious!” she exclaimed with a hand to her chest. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here.”
“We do live here,” Dominic teased.
“That you do,” Dorothea replied, glancing between them. Her eyes narrowed with mock suspicion as she looked to Tristan. “Let me guess—you lost Anna again?”
Tristan beamed. “I did.”
She shook her head with a soft laugh. “That poor girl. I do hope you’re at least keeping up with your studies.”
“I am,” he said proudly. “I even read a book from the library last night.”
“Oh? Which one?”
Tristan paused, frowning. “It was… a book. With words.”
Dorothea laughed, the sound bright and warm in the quiet hall. “A promising start. Perhaps next time you’ll remember the title.”
Dominic stepped towards her and offered his arm. “May I escort you to the stables?”
Her brows lifted slightly, but then she smiled and placed her gloved hand on his arm. “Thank you.”
