Page 75 of Her Bear of a Duke

"I do not wish to discuss it with you."

"No, I suppose that a wife never wishes to discuss her marital issues, especially not with her husband's mistress."

The word echoed, growing louder and louder until she felt unwell. She looked away, and she heard Lady Annabelle laugh coldly.

"You must have been aware," she continued. "Why else would he insist on keeping me here? Come now, Dorothy, you and I both know that if it came to the two of us, there would be no contest. If I did not leave, I would have been his wife instead of you, and that was not his choice. You cannot be surprised that, even after all this time, it is me that he wants."

"That isn't true," she protested, but there was hardly any strength in her voice. "He does not want you."

"Then why am I still here? We are both adults, Dorothy. We both know that I make a far better mother for Catherine. For one, she is truly my family, but it is more than that. The Duke and I appear to be a proper family, rather than a handsome gentleman and the wife he was ordered to take."

"I suggest that you stop this."

"Or what?" she asked. "His Grace has already made his choice, and it is not you. From the moment I arrived, he was all too happy to accommodate me. At my word, he turned against you. If anything, you would be better off yourself by doing something about all of this. Annulments are not too difficult to seek, you know."

Before Dorothy could say anything, Lady Annabelle walked away, leaving her standing with her letter clasped in her fingers.

What she had been accused of was a lie, a despicable lie in an attempt to ruin her marriage, and it had worked. Dorothy did not want to lose her husband, but she did not want to remain married to a man that hated her, either. Catherine deserved a real mother, and Morgan deserved a good wife. She was, clearly, neither of those things.

And so she left that night.

"I will say," Eleanor smiled cautiously as she served her tea. "I did not expect you to arrive with a wedding ring."

Her sister was older than Dorothy remembered, but it was indeed her. A beautiful lady, a mother at that, in a beautiful home away from everything. She had gotten everything she wanted, and Dorothy envied her greatly for it.

"I should have invited you, I know," she nodded. "Father did not allow it. I thought he would have told you himself."

"He hardly ever talks to me. He accepted my advice, but nothing more. He is quite glad to be rid of me, I am certain of that."

"That is nonsense. He thought of you all the time, even after you left. He was angry, but he still loves you."

"I shall believe that when I see it. Anyway, what has brought you here so suddenly?"

With a sigh, Dorothy explained everything that had happened. It came out in a single tirade with very few breaths taken. By the time she was done, she was in tears, her cheeks hot to the touch. Eleanor gave her a handkerchief, and then sat in silence for a moment.

"I cannot believe that you never stood up for yourself."

Dorothy looked at her, eyeing her carefully.

"Do not look at me like that," she continued. "How, at your age, are you incapable of speaking for yourself? You were always quiet when we were girls, but I thought that when you debuted that would change. Let me guess, you continued to wear those awful citrus shades?"

"Awful?" she echoed. "The ones you chose for me, do you mean?"

"Yes, in the hopes that you would at last rebel," Eleanor argued, laughing. "I thought that, eventually, you would refuse. I was trying to push you into doing something about it, and proving that you can defend yourself. Did you truly not do that?"

"Of course not. I never would have been allowed, not when you somehow convinced Father that it was in fashion."

"And yet, he saw ballrooms filled with young ladies, none of whom wore yellow."

"Yes, but… Well, it is as I said. He trusted your judgment. He claimed that it was a happy color, one that would make me seem brighter than I am."

Eleanor smiled, shaking her head, and handed her a slice of cake.

"You are allowed to defend yourself," she said gently. "I did it, and I have never been happier. I could have bowed down, andmarried the first gentleman that Father chose for me, but then where would I be?"

"We do not know. You could have been very happy."

"Is that what you are? Are you happy with your marriage?"

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