Page 16 of Her Bear of a Duke

"I know. I understand."

Her mother smiled at her, leaving the room. Dorothy watched her go and remained standing in the drawing room, feeling rather empty. Her mother's plan would not work, and then what would she do?

The following day, Dorothy awoke and stared at her ceiling. She had to dress and go downstairs so that she could join the Duke on a promenade, but she could not bring herself to leave her bed. He was a good man, one seemingly still willing to marry her, but that did not mean he would like her, or that he would feel any sort of particular attraction to her. It pained her to know that he would not see her as a worthy duchess, and that even if he did, thetonwould not. They would see her as a weak lady, one undeserving of the title.

That was, after all, how she saw herself.

There was a sudden bang on her door, which made her jolt into a sitting position.

"Dorothy," her father boomed. "It is time to come downstairs."

She called that she would not be long, and soon enough her lady's maid came to prepare her. As her father had allowed, she wore her favorite pink gown and her lady's maid pinned her hair into place in such a way that she had some semblance of elegance to her. She thanked her profusely before going to the drawing room. The Duke was already there, and he did not seem very pleased to be.

"Good morning, Your Grace."

"Good morning," he smiled at last. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, as is my maid."

She had half expected a conversation to follow, but it did not. Instead, he bundled her into his carriage and they left immediately.

"My apologies," he said after they had left. "I prefer not to speak in their presence, if I can help it."

"Oh. That is all right. Might I ask you why?"

"It has nothing to do with you, if that is what you are concerned about. What troubles me about them is their apparent desperation to be seen as something more than they are."

She should have taken offense to it, and she knew that, but in actuality she found it refreshing. She had had her fill of those that said and did everything they could to be seen as perfection,and she liked that the Duke did not hold himself to such impossible standards.

"Do you not believe that I would do such a thing?" she asked.

"No, I can clearly tell that you would never do so. I like that about you."

Dorothy somehow managed not to ask him what else he liked about her.

"How is it so obvious that I do not wish to climb socially?"

"Well, if you did, you would not kiss strangers in dark gardens," he chuckled.

Her cheeks flamed.

"I do not make a habit of doing that, if you must know!"

"Even if you did, you should know that it makes no difference to me. We all have a past, and things we would rather we had not done."

"I certainly do not."

"Is that to say you are pleased that you kissed me?"

"No– yes! I do not know. I cannot believe that I did it even now, if I am honest. I have never done anything like it before, and I do not plan to repeat such terrible actions."

"That is quite a shame."

If her cheeks were pink before, they were certainly now scarlet. It was improper to engage in such conversation, she knew that much, but she was uncertain of just how terrible it was. They were not married as yet, but they soon would be, and what difference did a few simple weeks make? It was not as though she would know him any better by the time their wedding came, and so where was the harm now that would not exist then?

"Very well," she grinned. "What sort of past do you have?"

"One similar to your own, I believe. Some mistakes were made, but I have only ever done what I thought was best."

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