Page 79 of Her Bear of a Duke

At last, she was silenced. She glared at him, and he met her gaze. She was the first to look away, flustered and scarlet. Morgan looked at her with almost sympathy, but then he looked back on everything that had happened. Everything had been peaceful until her arrival. Dorothy and Catherine loved the company of one another, the staff adored his wife, he adored his wife. Then Lady Annabelle came, and Dorothy began to speak lowly of herself again. The staff were not as happy, and then the accusations started.

The Duchess, who had never seemed to him like someone that could be unkind, and his own wife, who he had not believed simply because of who had accused her.

It had never occurred to him that his niece had been alone with Lady Annabelle before he arrived that day.

He left Lady Annabelle standing there, and went to Catherine's room. He found her standing at the window again, shaking.

"What has happened?" he asked.

She turned to him, her cheeks stained pink with tears streaming down them.

"Uncle Morgan, you are going to hate me."

"Catherine, I could never hate you. You know this. What is it?"

He made his way to her, reaching out to take her in his arms. She fought against him for a moment, thrashing in his arms, but then she gave in. She went limp, crying loudly against him. He stroked her hair and soothed her for a while, waiting for her to exhaust herself.

When she did so, he placed her on a chair and crouched in front of her, looking at her with gentle eyes.

"Whatever you have done, we can fix it. I know that things have been difficult, but there is nothing that you could break that I could not mend. I certainly could not hate you for anything, either."

She nodded, looking at her lap.

"It is my fault that Dorothy has gone."

"No, it is not. The fault is mine, for I should have listened to her before she–"

"No, Uncle. That is the problem. She did not say anything to me like that. I lied to you. I lied, and you will never forgive me for that. I have kept so much from you."

She began to cry again, and though he was in shock from her confession he did the only thing that he knew to do, which was to console her. When she was calm once more, he left quickly to fetch her some water. She took it shakily, and began to drink it.

"Oh, Catherine, this has not made me hate you. It has not made me angry, either, only confused. I do not understand; why would you say such things about her?"

"Because," she whispered, "Aunt Annabelle told me that, if I did, she could stay with us longer. She said that you wanted to make her leave and never come back, and that if I said bad things about Dorothy, she could stay."

If Catherine were not there, he would have lost his temper entirely. He would have charged through the hallway, grabbed Lady Annabelle by the shoulders, and forced her out then and there.

But Catherine was there, and so he could not. He was also aware that Lady Annabelle could well make good on her threat and ruin them, which he could not have. Thetondid not know of Catherine's existence, and the scandal that would erupt was not something that he could overcome.

He needed to find his wife, and he could not leave his niece alone again.

"Come," he said quickly, "we are going away for a while."

"What about Aunt Annabelle?"

"She will stay here. It is only for a few days."

She nodded, and immediately followed him out to a carriage.

"Where are we going?" she asked, as they pulled away.

He did not know how to answer her.

CHAPTER 29

Dorothy quickly adapted to life in Scotland.

Those around her spoke very differently, calling Lords ‘Lairds' and mothers their ‘maithers', but it was a nice change. Eleanor did the same thing as the others, her voice changing when around Scottish people.

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