Page 30 of Her Bear of a Duke

Morgan was already growing weary of Mrs. Herrington telling him all of the ways in which his new wife was failing. Each time he went to see Catherine, she stopped him to tell him something else his wife had done. She had knocked into an expensive vase, which had not then fallen or smashed, but it was something to be wary of regardless. She had created the menu for the week without consulting her, even though she did not know what Morgan liked to eat.

He had ignored every complaint, as he knew what it was about. His housekeeper was being replaced, and after a lifetime of being the most important servant in the household, and therefore the one that they all needed, she did not wish to lose the authority she had gained.

"Dorothy is harmless," he sighed. "I have given her work to do for herself so that she is out of your way. What could she possibly have done to vex you so?"

"She walked directly into the lake, Your Grace."

In very few words, his blood had run cold.

He hated the lake, and the memories that came to him every time he saw it, but he had never once considered having it removed. It was only for his sake, and it was an expensive endeavor (one that Catherine would undoubtedly notice and question), and not one worth making when he could just as easily pretend that nothing had ever happened, and that the lake simply was not there.

Except, it was, and his wife had gone wandering into it. He shuddered at the thought of it.

"Why were you in the garden?" he asked. "You are supposed to be inside."

"I knew that she would be doing something wrong, and I was correct about it. You should be thanking me for telling you."

"Mrs. Herrington, all that I ask of you is that you do your duty. I understand that you feel a little lost without Catherine to tend to at all hours, but I can assure you that there is enough to do elsewhere. You need not watch the Duchess constantly."

"It appears that I do. Are you not going to admonish her for this?"

"No, but should you continue to burst into my study each and every time you have a qualm with her, I may have to admonish you. Am I clear?"

She fell silent and left the room in a quiet fury.

Morgan sat back, sighing. He hated that there was a tension between himself and his housekeeper, but he did what had to be done. She could not continue to be unfair to his wife, even if she felt that she was imperfect.

He clicked his tongue, thinking about how he was being unfair in a similar manner. He had not yet told his niece the truth about the circumstances surrounding her birth, and he felt that the time had come. The lake had been a frightening thing for him to contend with, and he knew that one day Catherine would discover the truth and have that same fear. He had kept it from her so that she would not have to face it, to protect her, but he had been thinking for some time that he was only truly protecting himself from how she might react.

Tentatively, he approached her room.

She was wide awake and standing by the window, reading a book rather than resting. She coughed gently as she looked up.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked.

"Better," she said meekly. "I hope to recover completely soon, so that I may go outside."

"Catherine, you know how I feel about that."

"That it is dangerous, yes, but I would have you. I would be safe."

He grimaced, wishing he could tell her the truth; that she was not going to be accepted by society and therefore could not venture out into it at all. They were in a household that hardly anyone ever passed, but if someone did and saw a small child there, questions would arise that he did not wish to answer.

"Catherine, there is something that I have been meaning to tell you. I should have told you long ago, but I wanted to wait until you were ready."

She looked at him with curiosity, closing her book and sitting on the edge of her bed. He joined her, placing an arm around her and trying to think of the best way to explain it.

"What do you remember about your mother?"

"She was nice. I do not remember much, as I was so small, but I remember that she was nice to me. She was a good mother."

"And did you know that she was unwell?"

"Like me?"

"No, not exactly. She… well, she was afraid of a lot of things, you see. She did not have a father for you."

"But I do have a father. I have you."

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