Dominic gave a tight nod and turned for his study.
The moment he stepped inside, he strode to the drink cart and poured a generous serving of brandy. It burned down his throat as he drank it in a single swallow. It was far too early to drink, but his hands were still shaking. Rage. Guilt. Fear. All of it twisted inside him like a noose pulling tighter.
He needed clarity.
The door creaked open and in stepped a short, broad-shouldered man with thick black hair and nervous eyes. He held his cap in both hands, wringing it with anxiety.
“You sent for me, my lord?”
Dominic turned, setting the empty glass aside. “Yes. Care to explain what happened with Lady Warwicke’s horse?”
The man’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “There was… a burr under the saddle, my lord.”
“A burr,” Dominic repeated flatly.
“Yes,” the man confirmed, his gaze now fixed firmly on the carpet.
“And who saddled her horse?”
“I did.”
Dominic’s jaw tensed. “And you didn’t notice the burr? Did you even check the saddle properly?”
“I did, as I always do,” the man said, his voice wavering. “But I—I don’t know how it got there. I swear it wasn’t there when I checked.”
Dominic’s fists clenched at his sides. “The only reason I’m not dismissing you this instant is because my wife asked me not to.”
Relief flooded the man’s face. “That’s generous of you, my lord. Thank you.”
“But understand me,” Dominic said, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a growl. “If this ever happens again—if any horse under my care or hers is not checked with thorough attention—you’ll be dismissed. And without a reference. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly. I’ll be more careful. Thank you,” the man stammered before backing quickly out of the room, his cap crushed in his grip.
Dominic stood alone for a moment, the silence in the study pressing in around him. Then he exhaled through his nose and ran a hand down his face.
Dorothea was safe. That was all that mattered.
12
After a much-needed nap, Dorothea emerged from her bedchamber at the sound of the dinner bell echoing through the halls. She paused just outside the doorway to smooth the sleeves of her lavender gown. Her hair had been neatly pinned, a few tendrils falling loose about her temples, framing her face.
She made her way down the corridor, her slippers soundless against the carpet. As she approached the top of the staircase, her gaze landed on Dominic in the entry hall below. He stood tall and composed, dressed in a dark jacket, and she couldn’t help but notice how devastatingly handsome he looked.
He looked up the moment she began to descend, his eyes locking on hers. With quiet purpose, he stepped forward and waited at the base of the stairs.
“Good evening, Dorothea.”
“Good evening, Dominic,” she returned, a smile tugging at her lips.
His gaze swept over her with a mixture of scrutiny and concern. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m well,” she replied quickly, perhaps too quickly.
His expression remained grave. “Does your shoulder still pain you?”
She gave a half-hearted shrug. “Only when I move it.”
The faint attempt at levity was lost on him. He frowned. “I wish you wouldn’t make light of it. You could have been seriously injured. Killed, even.”
