“I do not answer to you,” Dominic returned, his tone clipped, refusing to be baited.
Haverleigh’s eyes flickered with contempt. “Of course not. You’re a coward.”
Dominic remained composed. “Says the man who raised his hand to his own sister,” he shot back. “How very brave of you.”
“At least I own what I’ve done,” Haverleigh said with a shrug, shameless. “But you? You sit on your high horse, pretending your hands are clean while you destroy her in a slower, more insidious way.”
“I do not abuse Dorothea.”
“Not with your fists,” Haverleigh sneered, “but what about your silence? Your indifference? Your rejection?” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a cruel whisper. “You break her with your words. And you’re too much of a coward to admit it.”
The accusation landed with precision. Dominic didn’t flinch, but the impact was undeniable. He met Haverleigh’s gaze with a cold, steady glare, refusing to let him see how deeply the words had struck.
Haverleigh let the silence stretch before brushing past him with a smug expression. “Good day,my lord,” he drawled, his mockery thick in the air.
“Before you go,” Dominic called out to him, “what of Dorothea’s dowry?”
Haverleigh halted, his back to him. “There is no dowry,” he said without turning around.
“Strange,” Dominic murmured. “Dorothea seems to believe there is.”
Haverleigh turned slowly, his expression guarded. “Then she is mistaken. No dowry exists. And even if it did, it wouldn’t belong to you.”
“That’s fair,” Dominic acknowledged. “But I’m less concerned about the money and more curious about the conditions tied to it.”
A muscle twitched in Haverleigh’s jaw—subtle, but telling. “There are no conditions since there is no dowry,” he said flatly.
“Did your father leave a will?” Dominic asked, taking a small step forward.
Haverleigh’s eyes narrowed, just a flicker, but Dominic saw it. A glimmer of uncertainty, quickly masked by practiced arrogance.
“There was no will,” Haverleigh stated. “And if this interrogation is finished?—”
“This isn’t an interrogation,” Dominic interjected. “It’s a conversation. I’m merely asking questions.”
“Questions you have no right to ask,” Haverleigh snapped.
Dominic crossed his arms over his chest. “I find myself curious that a man of your father’s station would not leave a will.”
“I could not speak for my father, but perhaps he had other things that preoccupied his time.”
“Yet Dorothea seems to believe there is a will,” Dominic pressed. “She recalls her father revising his will right before they left for the Continent.”
Haverleigh scoffed. “My sister does not know what she speaks of,” he asserted, turning sharply on his heel.
Dominic let him go this time, not bothering to stop him. There was no need. The man had already revealed more than heintended. Haverleigh was hiding something. But what it was, he couldn’t say. At least, not yet.
He would uncover the truth.
Whatever it took.
15
The late afternoon sun spilled through the tall windows of Dorothea’s bedchamber as she turned a page in the book resting on her lap.
Across the room, Tabitha sat in a chair near the hearth, her hands moving with practiced ease as she worked on her embroidery. The quiet click of needle and thread was the only sound in the room, broken only when Tabitha paused, glanced up, and asked gently, “Can I get you anything, my lady?”
Dorothea turned her head and offered a faint smile. “No, thank you. I am quite comfortable.”
