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CHAPTER 19

Dorothy did not know what to say, other than to try and help her husband.

She was pleased that Catherine would have answers, and that she would know who her mother was, but she felt for Morgan immensely. His brother had tried to stop their family uniting with the Blackwoods after what had happened, and now Morgan was going to always know that the little girl he so loved was undeniable proof that their families were once tied.

"What is it?" Catherine asked when they entered. "You are both looking at me strangely."

"We have found her," Morgan explained, and at once she came to life.

"Oh! Oh, how wonderful. Who was she? Can we go to her?"

Dorothy hated the pained expression in his face, but it had to be done. The little girl knowing the truth was more important than their comfort.

"We can, but not yet. I have to have things in order first."

"But you will take me?"

"Of course. Her name was, indeed, Elizabeth, and her last name was Blackwood."

"I like that name. I love mine, though. Will I have to change it?"

"Of course not," he smiled.

In spite of it all, Dorothy noted, her husband could not find it in him to be sad when in the company of his niece.

"Will you come, Dorothy?" she asked. "When we can go, of course."

"I–" she stammered, looking at Morgan who nodded at her, "I will, if that is what you want."

"Of course! You are my friend."

It was odd to have a small child proclaim that she was her friend, but Dorothy liked it. It was easier than being a mother or anaunt, especially when she had only just met her. She would be a good friend to her, the very best that she could be.

"That was easier than expected," she commented as they left for the gardens. "Then again, I suppose she has been waiting a long time for these answers."

"Indeed. I do not know why I expected it to be difficult."

"Because her aunt is the same lady you were engaged to," she suggested. "That will be painful no matter how much time has passed. It was a betrayal on your brother's part, and it is no surprise to me that you are reluctant to forgive him."

"But I should not care. She is not my wife. She was hardly my fiancée, and– this is not the sort of discussion one should have with his wife, is it?"

Dorothy laughed softly, and leaned against his shoulder.

"Morgan, you had a life before me, one that I was never privy to. It does not matter to me that you were engaged before, or if you loved her, or–"

"For what it is worth, I did not."

She pulled away, looking at him curiously. He looked at her in return with sincerity.

"I was never going to love her," he explained. "She was the sort of lady that would make a decent duchess, and thetonexpected it. I thought that was the best thing to do."

"I suppose it was, or it would have been had she not met that other gentleman. Do you know if she ever did marry him?"

"I do not. Once the engagement was called off, I had very little interest in her. It sounds callous, but after what she had done it was easier for the two of us to never cross paths. She blamed me entirely for it, and I accepted that. It was better, after all, that I faced scandal as a gentleman than she did as an unmarried lady."

Dorothy considered that, and she knew that he had done a noble thing in accepting blame that was not his, but she wished it had not been so. With what had followed, it was of no surprise to her that he was seen as some beastly thing, a bear just as Lady Blackwood had claimed.

"You must not look so concerned," he chuckled. "Our reputation is perfectly fine, and wherever she is, she causes us no harm. She likely found some wealthy and well-to-do man and left for his stately manor. She is nothing to us."