But she hadn't.
Dominic sat in the chair, his gaze fixed on the still figure lying in the bed. The soft, steady rise and fall of Dorothea’s chest brought a measure of relief, though it did little to ease the tumult within him. The morning sunlight attempted to pierce through the heavy drapes, but the room remained cloaked in shadows, save for the golden slivers that spilled in around the edges.
Outside, birds chirped with bright indifference, a cruel contrast to the storm still raging inside his mind. His thoughts wandered to the conversation he and Dorothea had shared only hours before—her insistence that he was not beyond saving. She was wrong, of course. She had to be. A woman like her could not possibly understand the rot that lay beneath his skin. She was too kind. Too compassionate. And he was a man well-acquainted with darkness.
She deserved so much more than a broken man grasping at redemption. She needed to be free of him. That was why the annulment had to happen—no matter how much it tore at him.
A soft knock at the door drew his attention. A moment later, it creaked open to reveal Tabitha, cradling a breakfast tray. Her manner was brisk, but her eyes flicked to Dorothea with quiet concern.
“I’ve brought Lady Warwicke’s breakfast,” she said in a hushed voice. “I made certain Mrs. Dawson prepared it herself.”
“Thank you,” Dominic said, standing to make room for her to pass.
Tabitha stepped carefully into the chamber and placed the tray on the nearby table. “How is she faring?”
“She slept through most of the night,” Dominic replied, his gaze returning to the bed. “I believe she’s regained some strength.”
A muffled groan interrupted them.
“I wish you wouldn’t speak of me as though I’m not present,” Dorothea murmured, her voice rough from sleep but laced withwry amusement. She shifted and opened her eyes, blinking against the low light.
Dominic moved closer to the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better,” she answered as she slowly sat up, pushing her tangled hair back from her face. “Though I confess, I’m absolutely famished.”
“Then it’s fortunate I brought food,” Tabitha said with a smile, uncovering the plate.
Dorothea eyed the tray with interest until her gaze settled on the small glass set off to the side. Her face soured. “Must I drink that awful concoction again?”
“It would help,” Dominic replied.
She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll consider it after I’ve eaten something tolerable.”
He couldn’t help but smile. Even with her hair in a wild disarray and the flush of illness still fading from her cheeks, she had never looked lovelier. Perhaps it was the defiance in her eyes, or the strength she didn’t even realize she possessed. She was everything he didn’t deserve.
Tabitha’s voice broke the moment. “Wright asked me to tell you that Mr. Haverleigh is downstairs, my lord. He wishes to speak with you.”
Dominic saw Dorothea tense immediately, her hands tightening around the blankets.
“I’ll go speak to him,” Dominic said, already straightening his coat.
“What do you suppose he wants?” Dorothea asked, her voice tight.
Dominic placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, his thumb unconsciously brushing against her collarbone. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is you. Focus on resting and getting better.”
Her eyes searched his face. “I don’t want to see him.”
“You won’t,” he promised, his voice firm. “You are safe here—with me. I won’t let him or anyone else hurt you again.”
She dropped her gaze, but not before he caught the flicker of pain there. A pain he feared he had caused.
He stepped back, his hand falling away. “Tabitha will stay with you until I return.”
“You should try to get some rest,” Dorothea insisted.
“I’ll sleep only when I know the threat to you is gone.” He walked towards the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “Keep the door locked.”
“Yes, my lord,” Tabitha said with a curtsy.
