Page 15 of Her Bear of a Duke

Cecilia and Beatrice returned shortly after. Cecilia had a calmness about her as she took her seat, and Beatrice poured her tea.

"I would like to apologize," Cecilia said clearly, "to the both of you. I had no reason to be so angry with you. I know that you did what you thought was best at the time, and you had no control over what came afterward. I should be a better friend to you."

"Not at all," Dorothy replied firmly. "We did act in unbecoming ways, and you are right, we should face consequences for that. Whatever comes next, however, it is better that the four of us are together. I cannot bear the thought of having to withstand all of this alone."

Cecilia moved so that Dorothy was between her and Emma. Beatrice rose to her feet and stood behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder in support. In spite of how afraid she was, she couldn't help but feel relief at that. She had her friends, and they would be there for her no matter what happened. She was not alone, which made her more fortunate than most ladies in theton.

It had been the first dispute that anyone in their group had had, and it had felt horrible, but in a way Dorothy was pleased that it had happened. It had given her a clarity that she otherwise would not have had.

"Are you looking forward to your promenade tomorrow?" Beatrice asked.

"I am. Regardless of how it goes, I will at least know more about my betrothed. I hope that he is a good man, one that aims to give me the best life he can. I will not ask much of him, only that he becomes a friend to me."

"And if he does not," Emma smiled, "I will gladly send Levi his way."

The ladies all laughed at that, and for the first time in weeks Dorothy felt as though all would be well.

Then she returned home.

CHAPTER 6

Dorothy had not expected to be ambushed the moment she entered her household.

Granted, it was not a terrible thing that she had become a part of, but it was quite overwhelming. The modiste had arrived, and the drawing room was covered in an array of fabrics which her mother was choosing from.

"Ah, Dorothy," she said brightly, "do come and help me with this, if you wish."

She was suspicious in an instant, as her mother had never allowed her to choose anything, but it was too tempting an offer to miss. She joined the two ladies, and in an instant she saw that floral lace that she had so adored each time she saw it.

"Is this for my wedding gown?" she asked.

"Indeed, though you must not tell your father. He believes that this was all arranged weeks in advance, but the truth is that I wanted you to tell me what you wanted. Your father is away until tomorrow, and so I thought you might appreciate helping us."

"Oh, Mother, thank you!"

It had been a strange time, when both her mother and father had been trying to be kinder to her without the other knowing about it. Dorothy knew that it was something she should have questioned, but she was enjoying the positive attention too much to do so.

Instinctively, she reached for the lace. The modiste nodded at her choice, and suggested a fabric to match it. Aside from that one decision, however, Dorothy was happy to not choose anything else. She trusted the modiste and her mother to make the perfect gown, and she did not wish to interrupt them as they did so.

Then came time for her measurements to be taken. It had always been a terrible part of the process, and Dorothy hated it. It was an awful reminder that she was not tall and slender like the beautiful young ladies that had sneered at her before she met Cecilia and Emma. They had been so unkind to her, and thankfully her two new friends were always more than willing to speak for her when that happened. Beatrice, when she joined them, did not say anything herself, but she was always standing beside Dorothy, unashamed of her.

It did not make remembering that she was different any easier, however.

The modiste measured her waist, and instinctively she breathed in, holding herself together tightly. She heard as the woman tutted quietly at her, and she was positively mortified by it.

"I will be placing her on a reducing diet," her mother noted. "It should be feasible before her wedding day, and then all will be well."

The modiste nodded, but she did not seem to agree at all. Dorothy shared such sentiments as that. She had always been softer and rounder than the other girls, and nothing she tried had ever changed that. A mere reducing diet for a few weeks would not be any different.

A familiar sting of tears came to her eyes, but she willed them not to fall. This was supposed to be a joyous time, and that was what she was determined to make it no matter what. She was having her dream wedding dress created, and that was something to be pleased about.

When the modiste left, however, her confidence faltered. She knew that she was disappointing her family, and that she always had, and there was nothing that she could do to fix it. She had never been good enough.

"Well?" her mother asked. "Are you excited yet?"

"Yes, Mother. I feel prepared, now, which has quite surprised me."

"Good. We have a few short weeks to ensure you are ready. I meant what I said, by the way, about that reducing diet."

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