“Say something,” Dominic murmured, his voice hushed but hopeful, as if he sensed the shift in her.
She reached for his hand. “That is very generous of you,” she said, “but I couldn’t ask that of you.”
His brow furrowed. “But I want to.”
“Why?” she asked, trying to keep her voice light, though her heart thudded painfully in her chest.Please,she thought.Say it. Say you love me.
Dominic held her gaze. “Because I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you, Thea. I’d never forgive myself.”
Her heart sank.
That was not love.
That was guilt. Concern. Attachment, perhaps—but not the kind that kept a man at a woman’s side for a lifetime. A lump rose in her throat, and she blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay. She wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him. Not now.
With a voice that felt far too composed for the storm inside her, she said, “You are kind, Dominic. But I think the annulment would be for the best.”
“You do?”
“Yes,” she lied. “I’ll be fine on my own. And you’ll be free to live your life as you see fit.”
He stared at her, baffled. “But I thought you wanted to stay married.”
“I did,” she said, forcing a small smile. “But I’ve changed my mind.”
“I don’t understand.”
She tightened her grip on his hand. “You’re a good man, Dominic. But I won’t trap you in a marriage you didn’t choose. You deserve more. I do, too.”
His brow furrowed deeper. “Why do you think you’re trapping me?”
“Because just as you fear I might one day resent you,” she said, “I fear the same in return. You may feel content with this arrangement now, but what about in five or ten years? When the silence between us becomes too loud, and duty is no longer enough to keep us tied?”
“I don’t believe my feelings would change,” he said.
She reached up and brushed a knuckle over his cheek before letting her hand fall back to her side. “I know you mean that. And I believe you’re trying to do the honorable thing. But sometimes… the honorable thing is walking away.”
“Thea—” he began.
But she raised a hand, stopping him with a soft shake of her head. “Shall we have that biscuit now?”
He paused, his lips parting as if to argue—but then, after a moment, he exhaled and nodded solemnly. “As you wish.”
She turned and moved towards the counter, her back to him. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the plate of biscuits. Every part of her wanted to turn around, to close the distance between them, to fall into his arms and whisper that she loved him. But she couldn’t. Not when she believed he didn’t feel the same.
And worst of all—she was beginning to believe he never would.
She placed the plate of biscuits on the table and sat down across from him, folding her hands neatly in her lap to keep them from shaking.
Dominic reached into his coat and withdrew two folded pieces of parchment. He laid them carefully on the table between them.
“One of these wills is dated ten years ago,” he said. “The other is much more recent. Just over a year old.”
Dorothea picked up the older of the two. Her eyes scanned the page quickly. “This was my father’s original will,” she said. “Everything… everything was left to my brother.”
Dominic nodded, unfolding the second will and skimming it. His brow creased in concentration before he looked up at her. “But this one,” he said, holding the paper between his fingers, “this will names you as the heir. Everything—his estate, his property—it was all left to you.”
She blinked in disbelief. “Are you quite certain?”
