Chapter 8
Dominic led Clara through the sprawling, dimly lit corridors of the manor until they reached the privacy of his personal study. The room was dominated by floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves, a massive leather desk, and a roaring fire that cast dancing amber shadows across the Persian rugs. Miller closed the heavy double doors behind them, standing guard in the hallway to ensure absolute privacy. Dominic motioned for Clara to sit in one of the plush leather armchairs situated directly in front of the hearth. Clara hesitated, acutely aware of her soaked uniform and the mud tracking onto the pristine carpet, but the bone-deep chill driving through her body finally won out. She sank into the deep cushions, pulling the wool blanket tightly around herself while holding her bandaged wrists gingerly in her lap. Dominic walked over to a heavy crystal decanter resting on a mahogany side table, pouring two fingers of amber bourbon into a heavy glass. He did not pour one for himself, instead walking over to hand the glass directly to the young maid. "Drink this. It will help with the shock," Dominic said quietly, keeping his distance to ensure she felt safe. Clara took the glass with both hands, careful not to strain her wrists, and took a small, burning sip. The liquor scorched her throat, sending a wave of sudden heat through her frozen veins and making her cough softly. "Thank you, sir," she murmured, staring into the flickering flames of the fireplace. Dominic pulled up a matching armchair and sat down opposite her, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied her tired face. "I owe you an apology, Clara," he began, his voice steady and devoid of aristocratic pretense. "I knew Eleanor was capable of manipulation, but I grossly underestimated the lengths she would go to protect her financial secrets." Clara looked up, her brown eyes meeting his dark ones with a mixture of wariness and lingering fear. "She found the ledger pages I printed out, Mr. Marshall. She accused me before I could bring them to you because she knew the offshore accounts lead directly to her personal holdings," Clara explained, her voice gaining strength with every word. Dominic nodded slowly, the pieces of the puzzle finally snapping firmly into place in his mind. "I know. My investigators flagged those same accounts three days ago. We were just waiting for the paper trail to become legally airtight before making a move," Dominic admitted, watching her reaction closely. Clara let out a long breath, realizing that her desperate gamble on the balcony had narrowly saved her from becoming an invisible casualty of the Marshall family’s war.
