Page 87 of Her Bear of a Duke

"It is beautiful. Catherine, might you go and play outside for a moment?"

"No, she can hear this," Lady Annabelle insisted. "She can hear how you have once again made awful comments about my family. Tell her, Your Grace."

"Did you, now?" Morgan asked, one corner of his mouth twitching upward.

"This time, I did," she confessed. "I told her to leave my family alone, and to go and fix her own."

"Except that I do not have to leave, do I?" Lady Annabelle asked Morgan. "Because you have sought an annulment."

Catherine looked up at him, alarmed, but Dorothy placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"That is strange, Lady Annabelle," Morgan replied, "because you told me that it had been my wife that was trying to do that. You wrote it in this letter here, or shall I say that my wife did?"

Morgan pulled a letter out of his pocket, and at last, Lady Annabelle's facade broke. She ripped it from his hand, tearing it into pieces before throwing it to the ground, stamping on it.

"You fool," she spat. "Do you have any idea what you are doing? You could have had the very best wife, one that had been beloved all her life, and instead you have chosen this ugly little thing."

"That is enough," he commanded. "Leave now, before I have you thrown out."

"No. I have spent so much time trying to ignore all of your strange ways, but I cannot do so any longer, not if you will not show your gratitude to me. You truly are a bear, an animal. Do you honestly think that polite society will accept this– this bastard among them?"

She pointed at Catherine, and at once Dorothy felt rage unlike anything she had felt before. Morgan took the girl in his arms as she burst into tears.

"Take her away," Dorothy ordered. "I shall remedy this myself."

"You will do nothing," Lady Annabelle laughed. "Sweet little Dorothy, afraid of her own shadow. That is what everyone says of you, you know. You are nothing but a little mouse, unwilling to do anything for anyone. You are a coward, and thetonknows it. They shall never accept you."

"And you are a spinster, in a family that has nothing," Dorothy replied. "Do not think that, because I choose not to be unkind, I am incapable of being so. Perhaps you were once a liked member of the nobility, but all it would take is one rumor about the real whereabouts of your sister and you shall be ruined completely."

"Then I shall tell them first. I shall tell everyone about your strange little illegitimate niece, and how even your loving husband hid her away out of shame."

"And would you like her mother to be known?"

She fell silent.

"I am not ashamed of my niece, and I never have been. I did not have to pretend to like her simply because I wished to marry her uncle. I pity you, you know. You do not know love, nor happiness. You only know spite, and it shows in you. You are going to live a very miserable life, Lady Annabelle, and no amount of memories of a time when you were pretty can make up for that. If you wish for this to all turn ugly, then that can be arranged, but I would not suggest it. I believe it would be best if you go back from where you came, and you leave us be."

"Oh? And what will you do if I do not?"

"I shall have you removed, and tell anyone who listens that you planned to poison me."

She staggered back.

"You have no proof!"

"No, but I do have several berries growing here that could do the job quite easily, and given that Mrs. Herrington saw some in your drawer upstairs, one could quite easily connect the two things."

A tense silence fell between them, and Dorothy held her gaze. She was not afraid of her anymore, not knowing that her husband would protect her from anything.

"I was never going to poison you."

"Then what were you going to do? Take enough to make you unwell and claim I had done it?"

Lady Annabelle glared at her furiously, and then turned away, leaving the estate without collecting any of her belongings. Dorothy trembled, not knowing what would come next. Lady Annabelle was a dangerous person, and she could do anything she pleased, but Dorothy tried not to think about it. Her threat was made, and seemingly heeded. She returned to her home, looking for her family.

They were, after all, the only thing she truly cared about at that moment.

CHAPTER 32

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