Dorian barely heard him.
Tristan paused in the doorway and smiled. “For what it is worth, I have never seen you happier. I can only hope that you realize what you have before you make the same mistake again.”
The door closed behind him a moment later, and silence settled over the library once more.
Dorian remained where he was.
The fire burned lower. The whiskey glass sat beside him. Somewhere above, Anne was sleeping peacefully, entirely unaware that she had become the center of every certainty and every fear he possessed.
For years, he had convinced himself that loving someone deeply was dangerous and that attachment led only to loss, which meant that distance was safer.
That night, for the first time, those arguments felt hollow. Because despite every wall he had built, despite every promise he had made to himself after Lily’s death, despite every effort to remain untouched by anything that could hurt him again, Anne had somehow crossed every barrier without either of them noticing.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes briefly. The truth was terrifying in its simplicity. All he had wanted was to secure his family name and to outrun the shadow that had been cast over his estate for years. He was not asking for a blaze, just a small amount of light.
And somewhere along the way, without realizing it, he had fallen hopelessly in love with his wife.
CHAPTER 22
Anne found Dorian in his study shortly before luncheon, surrounded by several reports from stable managers who seemed incapable of making decisions without consulting him first. Or, more recently, consulting her.
He glanced up when she entered. “You are here.”
Anne stopped beside the desk. “That was an alarming greeting. You sounded relieved.”
“Iamrelieved.” Dorian set down the letter he had been reading. “One of the trainers has spent twenty minutes attempting to convince me that feeding schedules require three separate meetings.”
Anne winced. She had a feeling that she knew which trainer it was, for she had been arguing with him for days. He refused to listen to a word she said, and even though everyone else did asshe instructed, he seemed to think that only Dorian could hold such authority.
“Which trainer?”
“Fletcher.”
“That explains everything.”
“I was hoping you would deal with him.”
“You are the Duke, Dorian.”
“You are considerably more frightening.”
Anne laughed at that, and the sound coaxed a smile from him.
Those smiles had become increasingly dangerous lately. Far too easy, far too warm. They were also entirely too inviting.
She looked away first. “I actually came to discuss something with you if you have a moment.”
The teasing faded at once.
“What is it?”
Anne hesitated. That alone was enough to make him sit back slightly.
For several moments, she studied the papers scattered across his desk rather than looking directly at him. Then, she finally spoke.
“I received a letter yesterday.”
“From whom?”
