“Yes!” Lily waved from her spot, bouncing on her toes.
Oliver said nothing. He simply watched Dominic with that careful, measuring look he’d maintained since the first time they had met. The boy trusted slowly, and Nell loved him for it. She’d trusted herself slowly.
“Good.” Dominic moved past Nell without touching her, though she felt the heat of him as he passed. He was close enough that she could smell soap and something woodsy. “I need to speak with them.”
“Speak with them about what?” Nell stepped forward, reaching instinctively for his arm.
He turned to meet her eyes. Something in his expression made her breath catch, a mixture of nervous determination and barely contained joy.
“Trust me.” He covered her hand with his and squeezed once, then let go. “Stay here.”
“Dominic.” She whispered his name, her hand falling back to her side.
But he was already walking toward the kitchen. Her children fell into step beside him like it were the most natural thing in the world. Lily practically skipped. Even Oliver seemed curious, his earlier wariness softened into cautious interest.
The door swung shut behind them.
Nell stood alone in her shop, flour on her hands and confusion churning in her chest. What was he doing? What business could he possibly have with her children that required privacy? What required leaving her out here to wonder?
She moved toward the kitchen door but stopped herself. He’d asked her to trust him; he’d asked her to stay. She stayed, but she pressed her ear against the door anyway, just for a moment. The wood was thick. She could hear the low rumble of Dominic’s voice and the higher pitch of Lily’s, but no words reached her. It was just sound without meaning, tantalizing and frustrating.
Fine. She would wait.
She went back to her dough and kneaded it with more force than necessary, trying very hard not to think about what was happening in her kitchen.
In the kitchen, Dominic found himself facing the two most important judges he would ever encounter.
Lily sat by the fire with a book in her lap, though her attention had clearly abandoned the story. She was all bright eyes and eager curiosity, bouncing slightly where she sat—Oliver was at the table, whittling something with careful, precise strokes. He looked up when Dominic entered, set down his knife, and fixed Dominic with a look of serious appraisal.
These were Nell’s children. Her fierce, protective, too-grown-up children who had watched their mother struggle to build something from nothing. They had learned that adults couldn’t always be trusted — and now they were deciding whether to trust him.
Dominic had faced down cavalry charges at Waterloo. He’d held the line when men were dying around him. He’d stood before the entire ton in London after Vivienne broke off the engagement, let them stare at his scar, and dared a single one of them to speak. None of that had prepared him for this.
“Lord Westmore.” Lily scrambled to her feet, her book tumbling to the floor. “Mama said you were hurt. Are you better now? Does it still ache? Mama says head wounds can be tricky.”
“I was hurt.” Dominic pulled out a chair and settled himself across from Oliver with deliberate calm. “I am better now. May I speak with you both?”
Oliver went still. His hand drifted back to his whittling knife, though he did not pick it up. He did not make a threat. He made it clear he was paying attention, and that he would protect what was his.
“Good.” Dominic nodded, respecting the boy’s vigilance.
“About what?” Oliver’s voice was carefully flat as he picked up a scrap of wood.
“About your mother.” Dominic kept his gaze steady.
The kitchen went quiet. Even the fire seemed to crackle more softly, the way it, too, were waiting to see what would happen next. Lily had gone still, her usual boundless energy temporarily suspended. Oliver’s lips pressed into a thin line, his fingers curling tightly around the edge of the table.
Dominic took a breath and let it out slow.
“I love her.” He offered no preamble, no pretty words, and no careful hedging. It was simply the truth, plain and simple. “I want to marry her.”
Lily’s mouth fell open, a small squeak of surprise escaping her. Her eyes went enormous, filling her whole face. Oliver didn’t move. He didn’t blink. He simply stared at Dominic with an expression that was impossible to read.
“Marry her?” Lily’s voice came out breathless as she clutched her skirts. “You want to marry our Mama?”
“If she will have me.” Dominic nodded, keeping his attention on both children. He watched their reactions, trying to read the thoughts hidden behind their youthful features. “But I wanted to ask you first.”
“Ask us?” Oliver’s frown deepened as he set the wood back down. “Why?”
