Page 30 of A Duchess Bound (Dukes of Dominance #2)

D orothy had wept so much and so hard that her throat was raw and her eyes burning from the wash of her tears. As they rode in the carriage to yet another ball, Dorothy wondered yet again if it was too late for her to feign some ailment and insist on returning home.

She turned her head to the window, eyes drifting over the dark landscape of London. Bridget, who sat across from Dorothy, appeared to be in good spirits. She had a dreamy expression on her face, as if she anticipated a night filled with wonder.

Bridget’s chest ached. Once, she would have been pleased with attending a ball.

She would have looked forward to seeing Gerard again.

Even though she had sometimes acted as though she was vexed with him, she found herself longing for the man.

He haunted her every waking moment and a large portion of her dreams.

“Dorothy,” Elias said.

She turned her head towards him. “Hm?”

Elias glanced at Bridget, who seemed oblivious to his scrutiny. He turned back to Dorothy with a raised eyebrow, as though asking some silent question. Perhaps, he assumed that she and Bridget had quarreled.

“You have been quiet,” Elias said. “I do not think you have said a word since we left, in fact.”

“I am only thinking,” Dorothy said. “It has been an…eventful Season. Bridget has not lacked for suitors.”

“Indeed, I have not,” Bridget said.

Dorothy caught the note of something tense in her sister’s voice. Bridget sounded as though she was prepared to fight, and Dorothy could think of little more exhausting than a quarrel. Dorothy let herself slump just a little against the seat, even though doing so was not ladylike.

“Am I correct in my estimation that it is time for us to narrow the field of potential suitors?” Elias asked. “Or are we still considering—well—everyone?”

“There is no need to narrow the field at all,” Dorothy said absentmindedly. “The more suitors vying for Bridget’s attention, the better.”

“Agreed,” Bridget said.

Gerard furrowed his brow. “But Dorothy, you have been so concerned with ensuring that only acceptable suitors are vying for Bridget’s hand. I would imagine that, given how far into the Season we are, we have higher standards for Bridget’s potential matches now.”

Dorothy offered only a tired shrug. She had not ceased caring about Bridget’s Season, but Bridget’s voiced frustrations still echoed in her mind.

Dorothy could not find it within herself to prepare for another battle with her sister; she simply had no will to quarrel when her thoughts were all consumed with Gerard.

And why should they be? Gerard had proven himself to be precisely the man she had thought he would be, an incurable rake who had only wanted to take her virtue and who had left her with nothing.

She should not be upset that he was gone from her life, for he was not a good man.

If anything, she ought to be relieved that they had concluded their affair before being caught.

“Bridget will make her choice,” Dorothy said, realizing that her brother still watched her, waiting for an answer. “And he will be a good man. There is no need to make courtship more complicated.”

“I agree,” Bridget said, sounding pleased.

Elias furrowed his brow and crossed his arms, his gaze so intense that Dorothy shifted uneasily beneath his inspection. She turned her attention once more to the window, as if the city streets could protect her from Elias’s scrutiny.

At last, the carriage came to a halt before Lord Hargrave’s townhouse. Dorothy straightened her spine, trying to feign some semblance of concern for how she might be perceived. The only man who had ever paid her any mind was Gerard, and he would never look at her again.

Dorothy’s breath shuddered in her chest. Would he be present at Lord Hargrave’s ball, or would he have enough decency to forego social occasions for a sufficiently long enough time for the wounds of her heart to have healed?

The footman opened the door, and Elias stepped from the carriage. He helped Dorothy and Bridget descend, and they all set up the path together.

“Dorothy, you are acting rather strangely tonight,” Elias murmured. “What has happened?”

“Nothing,” Dorothy said, sighing. “I have—we talked about the Season, Elias, and I am letting Bridget have the freedom to do as she wishes.”

Perhaps that would be for the best anyway. What right did Dorothy have to tell her sister who she may and may not pursue? Had she not just made the dreadful decision to engage in an affair with a man who had predictably abandoned her?

“And I appreciate it,” Bridget said. “I shall show good judgment in the gentlemen whom I choose to court. I promise that you shall not be disappointed.”

Elias furrowed his brow but said nothing.

Lord and Lady Hargrave, a distinguished elderly couple, greeted them at the door. “Your Grace,” Lord Hargrave said, bowing stiffly. “I am delighted that you are joining us tonight.”

“It is my great honor,” Elias said.

“And Lady Bridget,” Lady Hargrave said, smiling. “Are you enjoying your first Season?”

“It has been most enjoyable,” Bridget replied. “Far more than I anticipated in even my wildest dreams.”

Dorothy’s gaze wandered over the couple’s head, searching the crowd behind them for Gerard’s familiar face. She did not see him. Her heart sank like a stone for no rational reason.

It was for the best that he was gone for her life! No one would deny that, yet she found herself continuing to hope that maybe—somehow—the events at their last meeting had not occurred.

“And what of you?” Lady Hargrave asked.

Dorothy blinked, startled to realize that the lady looked at her for an answer. “Y—yes,” Dorothy said. “It has been an enjoyable Season.”

She sensed her brother was looking at her, but did not turn around to face him. Dorothy’s face grew hot, as Lady Hargrave’s delicate brow furrowed. It seemed as though everyone believed that there was something amiss with her!

Dorothy might not have been quite so vexed if the reason behind her distractions was not so ridiculous and detrimental to her own self!

As they entered the townhouse, light music rose from the ballroom.

Happy couples laughed and spoke with one another, and seeing such joy was like a knife to Dorothy’s heart.

Had she and Gerard ever appeared so happy to be in the presence of one another?

If they had continued their affair, would they have eventually become like those other happy couples?

Dorothy would never know.

“I know you must be growing weary of my concerns,” Elias murmured in her ear, “but I know you well enough to realize that something is amiss. What is it? How can I fix it?”

Elias halted. Dorothy did, too.

Bridget continued, hurrying to a group of unmarried misses, who lingered together awaiting the next dance.

“Dorothy,” Elias said gently, imploringly. “Tell me what has happened.”

“Nothing,” she said. “I am only a little tired. You are seeing some great tragedy where there is none.”

Dorothy’s eyes swept over the crowd once again, searching every dancing couple and every person lingering by the wall for the smallest sign of Gerard. She found none.

It should have been a relief, but instead, she experienced the sensation of being crushed. He truly was not here.

“Very well,” Elias said, sounding as though he did not believe her. “I shall leave the matter be, but know that I am here and will support you if something has gone amiss. I will always do that.”

‘I know, but I assure you there is no need.”

Elias searched her face for a moment longer, but when she did not offer anything further, he sighed and nodded reluctantly. “As you wish, my dear sister.”

“Thank you.”

“Well. Enjoy the evening.”

He left her and joined his friends. Gerard was not among them.

With a sigh, Dorothy drifted to the side of the ballroom, content to be a wallflower for the evening.

As much as she might have welcomed some respite from being alone with her thoughts, Dorothy could not muster the enthusiasm to converse with anyone, much less to try to appear as though she desired a dance.

And Gerard had probably spent the handful of days since their amorous congress without a shred of guilt. In all likelihood, the man had not even thought of her.

Bridget had elected to dance with that same dark-haired man, whom Dorothy had once warned her away from, and as if basking in Dorothy’s potential displeasure, Bridget cast her sister a sly, brazen look.

Are you truly going to let me have my freedom? Bridget seemed to ask.

Dorothy offered nothing.

Seeming satisfied, Bridget turned her head and said something to the young man, which made him laugh. Dorothy wanted that?—

The intimacy. The closeness.

Dorothy closed her eyes, too aware of the warmth threatening to gather in her core. She must remember that she did not care for him any longer, and it was for the best that she not care! If they had continued with their dalliance, he would have inevitably ruined her.

“I see that you have elected to become a wallflower for the evening,” Lady Hargrave said, joining her.

Dorothy forced a smile. “Is that startling for a spinster?”

“I suppose not.”

An uneasy silence fell between them, during which Dorothy’s fingers itched to fidget with her skirts. She could not readily discern if Lady Hargrave had some ulterior motivation for choosing to speak to her or if the lady was merely being a dutiful hostess.

“I imagine it must be difficult,” Lady Hargrave said gingerly, “looking after your sisters as you have. It is quite noble of you. Selfless.”

Dorothy blinked, a fissure of discomfort stirring within her. “That is kind of you, but any other woman would have done the same.”

“No, I do not believe any woman would have,” Lady Hargrave said. “You are something special.”

Dorothy let out a little, disbelieving laugh. It seemed as though everyone wanted to have intimate conversations with her, and it was terribly awkward for it to happen at such a time when she wanted, more than anything else, to be left alone!

“Maybe my behavior seems as though it is something to be admired by others,” Dorothy said at last. “But I have never imagined that I would be anything other than a spinster?—”

That was untrue, though. Gerard had ruined her satisfaction with that dream. He had shown her pleasure that she had never before known or imagined.

“—and a nurturing woman, who might raise them in our mother’s stead.”

But Bridget’s fury loomed large in Dorothy’s mind. She was not the mother to either of her sisters, and at least one of them had found her affection unwelcome.

Dorothy inhaled with a sense of immense, heavy dread. It was as if she did not know who or what she was anymore. No longer was she the nurturing spinster who would never know pleasure or love, for she had tasted both of those. And now?—

Now, they were gone. She was ruined, even if no one knew it.

She could still be a spinster, but that path no longer held the allure it once had.

She was not the maternal figure that she had always hoped she would be, the one who was beyond reproach.

Dorothy had failed to secure a match for Catherine, and Bridget had chastised her for interfering so much.

A lump rose in Dorothy’s throat as all those thoughts came mercilessly careening to the forefront of her mind.

“I believe I shall have some lemonade.” Dorothy’s own voice sounded as though it was coming from a continent away. “I am quite parched, my lady.”

She left before Lady Hargrave could say anything further. When Dorothy reached the table laden with refreshments, her hand trembled around the glass.

Gerard was gone. He did not love her. It was for the best.

If Dorothy told herself that enough, she could maybe—just maybe—make herself wholeheartedly believe that the thoughts were true.