As Tristan focused on his soup, Dominic turned to her once more. “I was wondering if you might wish to join me for a carriage ride tomorrow.”
Her smile came easily. “I would greatly enjoy that.”
Before she could say more, Tristan piped up between bites. “Can I come, too?”
Dominic chuckled, a low, genuine sound that warmed Dorothea’s heart. “I think it would be best if you stayed behind this time.”
Tristan slumped slightly. “That is no fun at all.”
“How are your studies going?” Dominic asked.
“Boring,” Tristan muttered, scraping his spoon along the bottom of the bowl. “Why do I need a tutor? I already know how to read.”
“A tutor teaches much more than just reading,” Dominic replied. “There are other subjects—history, arithmetic, science—that are important for a young gentleman to understand.”
Tristan gave him a thoughtful look. “Do you think he’ll teach me about rockets?”
“You could ask him,” Dominic said. “And if he doesn’t know enough, I can teach you myself.”
Tristan’s expression turned unexpectedly solemn. “My father loved rockets.” He picked up the bowl and brought it to his lips, slurping the last of the broth just as a voice called from the doorway.
“Tristan!”
All heads turned as Tabitha strode into the room, her expression a mixture of weariness and mild exasperation. “I do apologize,” she said to Dominic and Dorothea as she crossed the room. “Tristan should not be interrupting your supper.”
“We invited him,” Dorothea assured her.
Tabitha offered a grateful nod, though her disapproval remained. “That is generous of you, but he should be in bed and not slurping soup like a common street urchin. Have I taught you nothing, Son?”
Tristan visibly winced. “I was hungry. And Lord Warwicke said I could have his soup.”
“Then you should have asked Anna for more food or gone down to the kitchen yourself,” Tabitha chided. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come along. It’s time for bed.”
Tristan pushed back his chair, dragging his feet as he rose. “But I’m not even tired.”
Tabitha gave him a look. “Why don’t we find a book in the library? I can read to you—or better yet, you can read to me.”
“Do I have to?” Tristan whined.
“Yes,” she replied. “Now, thank Lord and Lady Warwicke for their hospitality.”
The boy cast a sheepish glance between them. “Thank you, my lord. My lady.”
“Goodnight, Tristan,” Dorothea said.
Once the pair had exited the room, the door closing softly behind them, Dominic leaned back in his chair and sighed.
“I used to do the same thing,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement. “I’d wait until my nursemaid fell asleep in her chair, then sneak down to the kitchen. I’d eat whatever the cook had left out—cold pies, biscuits, even old scraps of ham. I thought myself terribly clever.”
“That does not surprise me in the least,” Dorothea said as she set down her spoon. “You’ve always struck me as the sort of boy who thrived on mischief.”
“And what about you?”
Dorothea sat back slightly, folding her hands in her lap. “Oh, I was dreadfully well-behaved. I followed every rule to the letter. I never once dared to creep out of bed after hours, even when I was certain the adults were up to something far more interesting downstairs.”
Dominic leaned in just a touch, the candlelight catching in his eyes. “Sometimes it’s rather fun to break the rules.”
The weight of his words pressed into the space between them, unsaid truths hovering in the air. His gaze—calm, playful, but shadowed with longing—sent her heart stumbling in her chest.
