Page 70 of The Duchess' Ultimatum
Dorian laughed. “I hope not. Can’t a brother ask his sister to go for a walk without it seeming like the end of the world?”
“I suppose we’ll find out,” she joked.
They walked in silence for a few moments, their eyes drifting over the party and the guests. And although Dorian did not mean for it to be the case, he soon found themselves coming upon their mother’s gravestone.
Barbara frowned when she saw it. “Is this what you wanted to talk about?”
He shook his head. “God, no. I know how much you hate being reminded about her.”
“I don’t hate it,” she said. “It just makes me sad.”
They came to a stop before the gravestone, both looking at it with markedly different expressions on their faces. Where Barbara’s was painted with sadness, Dorian’s was more resigned. He had never been as close with their mother, as she had also chosen to spend her time with Barbara than with him. He used to hate her for that, resenting the fact that he had no one because his father chose their older brother to fixate his affections on.
These last few years, however, had seen Dorian change his opinions where his mother was concerned.
He understood now, the importance of caring for those you loved. Where his mother might have paid him more attention, her world was Barbara, and she did everything that she could tomake sure that her only daughter was happy and taken care of. It was a mandate that Dorian had taken up when he returned home, made harder because Barbara had changed much in the years he was gone.
What had happened to her… he still had no idea. But he didn’t care either. All he cared about was her happiness and as he looked at his mother’s grave, he firmed this belief inside of himself.
“She only ever wanted you to be happy,” Dorian said.
Barbara smiled. “She did that.”
“I just wish she was here to see it.”
“See what?” Barabra snorted. “A daughter who never leaves the house? Who is too scared to go outside…”
“I meant these last few days,” Dorian said softly. “You’ve changed so much this weekend, Barbara. And I couldn’t be more proud of you.”
“Dorian…” She blushed furiously. “It has only been a few days.”
“But the change has been remarkable,” he said. “I hope now you understand that you don’t need to hide yourself away as you have done. That if you take a chance, there is so much out here for you to experience. The world isn’t such a scary thing, when you are brave enough to step into it.”
She rolled her eyes but she could not hide her smile. “I know it. And…” She looked away with embarrassment. “And I wanted to say sorry. Or I thought I should.”
“Sorry? What for?”
“For everything,” she sighed. “I haven’t made things easy on you, Dorian. I know that. It was never on purpose but, well… I suppose I could have been less difficult.”
“Barbara…” Dorian pulled away so he could better look at her. “You have never made things difficult. Perhaps they were not always so easy – but that is not the same. These last few years have been the happiest of my life, and you’re the reason. I need you to know that.”
And that was the truth, as he knew it. Which spoke to the fear he felt, what might happen when she left him. Not something he wanted to focus on, but there nonetheless. The sense that regardless of what he did, he would be trading his own happiness for hers.
She sniffed and tried to roll her eyes again but there were tears brimming in them. “I do. You know I do.”
Dorian pulled his sister into a hug, because he felt that he had to. He would still ask the question, but he knew now that he would not push. What she wanted was what mattered. And as for his own needs? His own happiness? That always came second.
“There is something else…” Slowly, he pulled away.
“Ah…” She sniffed and wiped her nose, smiling as she did. “Here it comes.”
“I am not pressuring you,” he made sure to tell her. “And whatever you say, I will accept it. But I need to ask one more time, Nicholas Wood…” He let the name settle between them.
“Dorian.” Barbara looked away. “Please, don’t make me…”
“You really have no desires on him, do you?”
“No,” she said.
