Page 29 of Her Bear of a Duke

"Very well then. We are in a very secluded place, and so nobody outside of the household shall see you. If it will make you happy, then you have my permission. I shall inform the staff of this."

She could hardly contain her excitement. She ate her breakfast quickly, already eager to go outside and begin her work. Mrs. Herrington could keep some distance from her for a while too, which Dorothy assumed she would appreciate. When she finished, she left for her room and found the most dreadful gown she owned. It was a hideous shade of orange, one of her sister's choices, and one that she did not mind staining. Francine dressed her, remarking how drastic the change in her was. Dorothy agreed, explaining her deal with the Duke.

"Mrs. Herrington will be furious," Francine noted, though she was grinning.

"She cannot be. His Grace shall see to that."

"Are you not concerned that she will see you as a rival?"

"Of course not. I am not her rival, I am a duchess. She shall have to accept me eventually."

When she was out in the garden alone, however, she was not so certain of that. Regardless, nothing relieved her of stress quitelike a scythe carving through grass. She enjoyed the metallic sound of it, and with how vast the landscapes were, she would be able to hear it for a very long time.

After a while, she came to a rose garden and placed the scythe down. She sat on the ground in front of them, and looked them over. They were, in spite of the lack of gardener, growing very well and were the perfect shade of pink. Taking the time to look at the other flowers, she noticed that they were all exceptionally well taken care of. At last, she felt truly happy to be at home, as the bright gardens were a far cry from the dark hallways she had been walking since her arrival. The sun was warm, and she tilted her head back to let it shine onto her.

After a moment, she continued on her way, swinging the scythe until she was pleased with her progress. There was a pond on the grounds, and she wandered over to it. She planned only to look at the ripples in the water, but the sun had begun to truly make her feel hot. It was not uncomfortable, but she knew that what she truly wanted was to dive into the cool blue in front of her. It was highly improper, but her husband's words echoed in her mind.

They were in a secluded place, and nobody would see her.

In a moment of weakness, she removed her shoes and stockings, feeling the grass beneath her feet. Tentatively, she dipped a toe into the water. It was cold, which was frighteningly tempting. She continued going into it, until one foot was completely submerged. She laughed gently at the sensation, before peering around to ensure she was not being watched. When she sawthat she was safe, she lifted her skirts to just below her knee, and stepped all the way in. She felt rebellious, scandalous, and wicked for the second time in her life. She kicked gently, splashing water up as if she were a child, and then stood still, feeling the difference between the heat on her shoulders and the cold on her ankles. It was perfect.

"What on Earth are you doing?" a voice bellowed.

Dorothy stumbled, and unable to hold onto anything for support she stumbled in entirely. Her gown was soaked through, but she did not care. She was more than happy to have it thrown away entirely.

When she looked up, she saw Mrs. Herrington scowling at her. She almost groaned over the interruption, but she stopped herself.

"His Grace said that I could spend some time in the gardens. He told me that he would make you aware of that."

"He has, which is precisely why I have come here. He has not told you that you can go into the pond."

"It is only water, Mrs. Herrington. It does not hurt."

She saw how her anger left for a brief moment before returning in full force.

"That does not signify! If the Duke sees you like this he will be furious. Come, we must bring you inside to dry."

"If I may, I would suggest that I shall dry much sooner outside. The sun is very warm."

It was also more pleasant than it was inside.

With a scoff, the housekeeper waved her away and turned on her heel.

"As you wish, Your Grace."

She left, and Dorothy watched her go. Her heart was racing, but she was pleased to have spoken for herself rather than cowering. She was afraid of Mrs. Herrington, but that could not continue. She was the lady of the household, and she wanted to be respected as such.

And so, she lay in the sun for a while. It did wonders for her spirits, and as she traced her fingers in the grass she contemplated never pulling herself to her feet. Sadly, the sun began to dip down from the sky and as she had been dry for a long time she thought it best to return to the manor for dinner. Should her husband be there, she decidedly did not wish to be seen in such an awful gown.

She took the scythe and made her way to the shed. When she had put it away, she turned to the house and truly looked at it. It was large and looming, and the sight of it alone gave her a great senseof unease, but she tried to ignore it. She was only afraid because it was new to her, and soon enough she would grow accustomed to it and be happy with where she was. There was nothing to be scared of, she thought.

Then she saw the ghostly figure in an upstairs window. The face was pale and her hair was long and blonde, hanging limply over her in ringlets. There was hardly any expression on her face at all.

But she was watching her intently.

CHAPTER 11

"She is trouble, I am telling you!"

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