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"This does not make me happy."

"Then at least we have both been miserable because of you," she laughed emptily.

He had never seen such a side to her, and he was completely taken aback by it. In spite of everything that was happening, he thought that she was beautiful when she was passionate, even if such passion was targeted at him in a negative way.

"Dorothy, I want to tell you what has happened, not because it is now a good time but because we are alone."

"Are we? Is that why our houseguest has stayed while my friends have left? Mrs. Herrington says that she will be here for a further three days, even though we agreed to be rid of her by now."

"Yes, and I am well aware that you want her to leave."

"Do you not?" she asked. "Well, no, of course you do not. Why else would you have told her that she could stay without asking me?"

"It is for Catherine's sake."

"And yours," she nodded. "Which tells me precisely where I stand. You may think that I am inept, but believe me, I have seen everything. I see how she hangs on your every word, following you around so much that I do not want to be near you. I hoped that you had seen it, and that you would put the matter to rest, but instead you are encouraging it. Again, if that is what you want, then I will not stop you. I hope you find happiness, Your Grace, because I clearly cannot give it to you."

She turned to her writing, and nothing that he said made her turn back to him. He wondered just what had happened that made everything go so wrong, but he knew what it truly was. The fault was his own, for he never should have allowed Lady Annabelle to stay the moment he saw her. He should have sent her away before Catherine could form an attachment to her. He should have put a stop to it before it began, but he had not and it had gone too far.

He knew what he had to do. He had to speak to his niece, learn more about what had taken place, so that he could truly fix what had been broken. He did not want to be hostile with his wife, but if she had hurt Catherine then steps would have to be taken.

He had seen the fear in the little girl's eyes. Something awful had been said to her, he knew that much.

The following morning, she was the only one to join him at breakfast. It had been a long time since he had broken his fast with only his niece, but given the circumstances it was quite pleasant. She picked at her food, but as none of it had chocolate in he was not too surprised.

"Uncle," she began suddenly, "can a lie ever be good?"

"That entirely depends. Why do you ask?"

"Well, for example, if one tells a lie for themself, it is bad, but if it is for someone else, is it good? Say that I broke a vase. If I said I did not break it, and Mrs. Herrington did, that would be a bad lie, but if Mrs. Herrington lied and said she had broken it, is that also bad?"

"I would not have said so, no. I think it would be quite honorable, actually. Why, have you broken a vase?"

She shook her head, but Morgan did notice that she ate more easily after that.

"I would like to walk in the garden with Aunt Annabelle today," she continued, and the matter was forgotten. "I was also wondering when we might buy those two tulips?"

"I am going to town within the week," Morgan explained, "so I shall consider it then. Where is your aunt, for that matter?"

"I do not know," she shrugged. "She told me last night that she was going to speak with Dorothy."

CHAPTER 27

Bad wives abandon their families, Dorothy thought, but awful ones stay when they only make everything worse.

She was grateful to have learned of her sister's address, for she needed to escape for a while. She wanted to be anywhere but where she was, and a cottage in Scotland sounded perfect. It would give her the distance she needed, not to mention give her husband what he deserved.

She had planned it from the moment Morgan had begun to act strangely. She watched what followed, and how he was with Lady Annabelle more than he was with her, and how Catherine clung to her new aunt incessantly, and that told her everything that she needed to know. She was not needed in their family, and it was better that she was not there.

She had stayed, unwilling to give Lady Annabelle the satisfaction of seeing her give over her control, but then she learned of what she had been accused of by Catherine and she knew she had toleave. Somehow, the girl had been made to believe that Dorothy could say such inexcusable and vile things, and nobody wanted to know why Catherine had thought it. They only wanted to know why Dorothy had said it, which she had not.

She wrote a letter, knowing that it would arrive before she did, to warn Eleanor that she would appear. As she went to send it, however, Lady Annabelle crossed her path, smirking.

"Good evening, Your Grace."

"Not now, Lady Annabelle."

"What's the matter? You have acted most strangely of late."