Page 67 of A Duke's Bargain
“Comfort? What was that?” Stephen asked, unsure why they were talking about this.
“He said, he was confident that after he passed, Dorothy would be well looked after. I told him I would be a good guardian, and he laughed at me, saying I had misunderstood.” Allan smiled rather sadly, clearly holding onto the memory. “He said, she would be well looked after, by you.” He lifted a hand and pointed at Stephen, making him fidget in his chair. “My father was utterly convinced that you and Dorothy would marry.”
“He was?” Stephen sat perfectly still. He almost felt as if a ghost walked amongst them at that moment, as if Rutherford pulled up the chair on his other side and sat down, reaching for a coffee cup with a wink. “He knew?”
“He did.” Allan nodded. “I did not believe him. I knew how much you two hated each other, and then the more I watched the pair of you this last year, I started to see that my father was quite right. You two never hated each other, not really, did you? In fact, I think your favorite pastime has been bickering with my sister.”
Stephen smiled sadly and nodded.
“I cannot believe I am going to do this.” Allan rubbed his eyes and yawned, clearly tired after his late night of drinking. He put his coffee cup down on the table. “I will gladly give you my blessing to marry my sister, Stephen, as much because I know my father gave it before he died.”
Stephen inhaled sharply and rubbed his chest. He longed to speak to Rutherford now, to thank him for thinking so well of him as to consider giving his daughter’s hand to him.
“You will give your blessing?” Stephen asked, feeling as if he had been struck dumb. “Even though… well, I have caused a scandal now.”
“Knowing you, you would not walk into any scandal particularly easily.” Allan grimaced. “No doubt you were tempted by her rebellious ways.” He chuckled to himself. “There is one part of this matter that you may struggle with, though.”
“What is that?”
“For all that I have given my blessing—” Allan paused and looked at Stephen. “I am not convinced that Dorothy would say yes to you. She was all too happy last night to blame herself, saying she had put her faith in a man that she should not have believed in. She meant you.”
“For that, I cannot blame her.” Stephen felt sick as he thought of the night when he had kissed her. “The moment I should have asked her to marry me, I told her I could not ask her. All I kept thinking of was how she’d hate being a duchess, that she would detest all the responsibility.”
“Pff, are you blind?” Allan laughed. “Since my mother passed, Dorothy has taken over all the responsibilities of our late mother. She visits our tenants, looks after the house—all of it. She does it in her own way. Of course, she does, for she is still Dorothy. She is different from any other lady, but she still carries out her responsibilities, you fool.”
Stephen hung his head forward and dropped his face in his hands, feeling how much of a fool he had been. He realized at once a part of the horrific mistake he had made that night. Not only he had let her believe that she was not the perfect Duchess, but he had forgotten one key thing.
“I didn’t let her decide what she wanted,” Stephen muttered. “I just presumed she wouldn’t want to be a duchess.”
“Who knows?” Allan shrugged. “But from the glimpse I caught of her in the breakfast room this morning, and the way she glared at the chair you so often occupy at our house, you have a hard task ahead of you to make her accept your hand now.”
Stephen nodded. After what had happened between them, he could hardly blame Dorothy for rejecting him. At a time when he had wanted to protect her, to her mind, it must have sounded as if he had been belittling her.
He had one hope, one reason as to why she might just say yes. From everything that Allan had told him, and from all that had happened between him and Dorothy as of late, he had reason to believe that she might just be in love with him.
There’s hope. I’m not giving up yet.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Dorothy sat perfectly still in the drawing room, uncertain what to do with herself.
“My Lady?” The kindly housekeeper, Mrs. Dorrit, walked in, carrying a silver tray. “Would you like some tea?”
“Oh. Thank you. Yes.” Dorothy nodded and let Mrs. Dorrit place the tea tray in front of her.
“Will you be going for a walk today? I have heard from the gardener that many more spring shoots are coming up. You do so love this time of year.”
Mrs. Dorrit was clearly trying to tempt her into some sort of activity.
“Perhaps not today.”
Any other day, Dorothy would have happily gulped down the tea and ran out of the room, hurrying into the garden.
“No? Well, the gardener said he would be replanting some bulbs this afternoon in the knot garden if you wish to join him?”
Once more, Mrs. Dorrit was coaxing her into some activity, smiling with plain hope.
“Not today.”
