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D orothy quickly adapted to life in Scotland.

Those around her spoke very differently, calling Lords ‘Lairds' and mothers their ‘maithers', but it was a nice change. Eleanor did the same thing as the others, her voice changing when around Scottish people.

"I prefer it this way," she explained. "I do not like to explain why I left London, you see."

"I suppose, but you have nothing to be ashamed of. Surely you must know that?"

"Oh, I am not ashamed of my actions at all. I am simply aware that I am very different to the people here, and I prefer not to have that pointed out."

They had spent their first few days visiting different taverns in the area, and after hiding herself away the first few times for fear of being seen there, Dorothy began to enjoy herself.

Nobody recognized her there, and it was wonderful.

She could simply be Dorothy, and that was enough, rather than the Duchess of Ulverston that was not quite as good as expected.

Their days were spent with Eleanor's children, and Dorothy preferred that part.

She liked to be around her nieces and nephews, though her heart ached to see Catherine again.

There had to have been a reason, she thought, for Catherine accusing her of such awful things, because she did not hate her enough to lie of her own accord.

"Are you questioning yourself again?" Eleanor asked as Dorothy looked at the table in silence. "You should also know that you have no reason to feel shame. They gave you no choice but to leave."

"I know, but I still do not understand. I did not say what I was accused of, and yet he did not believe me."

"Then he is a fool, as I have already told you. Now, do you plan to return to him and grovel or would you rather enjoy yourself here with me?"

It was not as easy as she wished it was.

She was enjoying her time with her sister, and she had missed her so much, but she still longed to be home with her husband and niece.

They would have to mend a lot of things, but she still wanted it.

It had been the first time that she truly felt like part of a family, and she did not want to give that up, especially because of something that did not happen.

"Did you feel loved by our parents?" she asked suddenly, and Eleanor faltered.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, as a girl I was always compared to you. I had every part of me picked at and scrutinized. I was not as tall as you, my hair and eyes were different, I was… less slim."

"I know, and I have always envied you for that."

Dorothy looked at her, confusion etched in her brow.

"That is impossible. You were always so perfect!"

"Indeed, and it was awful. I know that things were difficult for you when we were children, but I suppose that made me feel even worse.

I had to be perfect, as I had always been.

I had to do everything that I could to be the very same lady that the ton adored, never making a mistake.

You, on the other hand, seemed able to do as you pleased. "

"Which, I might add, I never did. I was always trying to reach you, to be as liked as you were. It was exhausting."

"It was no easier for me, especially when I had to watch you struggle alongside me. I knew that comparisons were made, and my heart ached to see you so saddened by them, but I did not know what else to do. I had to keep the facade going."

"Until you stopped."

"Yes," she smiled, looking at her oldest child sitting beside her. "Until I stopped."

"I am not so fortunate. I married a duke, and so I shall always be scrutinized."

"Or, perhaps, you could come to Scotland?" she suggested. "If you ever tire of the ton, you will always have a place here. As will your husband and niece, of course. Little Catherine would likely benefit greatly from being near other children, as from what you told me, it has never happened."

"No, she was always too unwell. I do not believe that will change, either, as my husband is ardently against her being seen. He says there will be too much judgment, and that he wants to protect her from it."

"Then I hope that he knows he cannot," she laughed, sipping her tea.

"Whether he likes it or not, the girl will grow.

She will one day be a lady with her own thoughts and her own desires and she will chase after them, no matter how much he tries to stop her.

If she ever wishes to be seen, then she will be. "

"Is that what happened to you?"

"Of course. Father told me that I could not marry the man that I loved, as he was not worthy of me, and that I would be marrying some wealthy man twice my age, and I ran. You are no different; your husband told you he was unhappy and you did not like it, and so you ran."

"That is not– I did not do that."

Her hands clenched, her jaw tightening. She loved that her sister was the sort of person to talk about her feelings directly, but sometimes that bluntness was not what she liked.

Perhaps, however, it was what she needed.

"You did. If you had wanted to stay, and to make it known that you were innocent, then you would have. Instead, you thought it would be easier to run all the way to Scotland to hide from it. Is that not true?"

She wanted to tell her that she was wrong, but she did not want to lie.

She could have stayed. She could have forced those around her to be honest about what had happened, but that was not who she was.

It was, indeed, easier to leave and be done with everything.

Morgan was happier with Lady Annabelle, and as far as Dorothy was concerned she could not compete with her.

She belonged in Scotland with the plump barmaids and the farm girls.

"I do not know what more I can do," she sighed.

"I tried everything in my power to be a good wife, and I failed.

Perhaps Lady Annabelle was right, and I should request an annulment and be done with it all.

I was able to play the part of a duchess for a while, and I should be content with that. It is far more than I deserved."

"You are doing it again," Eleanor snapped.

"Dorothy, do you understand how difficult it is to make one see sense when they are so blinded by their own self-hatred?

You talk about yourself as though you are some loathsome little toad, when in reality you are a beautiful and intelligent lady that has passions and interests of her own.

That is why you have friends, and why the Duke agreed to marry you in the first place. "

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that he is a man. If he did not want to marry you, then he would have changed his mind and not had the ton hear about your match. It is what they do. He did not, and so you can assume that he married you because he wanted to."

"It was his duty. He did not want to leave me with Mother and Father."

"Then why did he spend so much time with you? Truly, Dorothy, I know that you are unhappy, but that does not mean that you can be impossible to reason with. Come now, you know as well as I do that he is happy with you. If he was not, then you would have arrived here long ago."

"Then why–"

"Stop asking why! Sometimes, things simply are. Regardless of his reasoning, he cares for you. You have come to a difficulty, yes, but that does not mean he hates you. You may stay here as long as you need, but eventually you shall need to face him."

Dorothy went to protest that she did not want to, but she could not make the words come.

The truth was that she did want to see him, for she missed him terribly.

She wanted nothing more than to return home and find him in the drawing room and sit beside him and talk as though nothing had happened.

It was the one thing that she wanted more than anything, and yet she could not bring herself to do it.

"I do not mean to be a burden," she whispered, and her sister put an arm around her gently.

"You are not, and you have never been. Nobody says that marriage is easy, especially when there are children involved, but that is when it becomes all the more vital to do what is right."

"But I do not know what that is. Perhaps it is right that little Catherine has a real family, related by blood rather than a marriage of convenience. I know what I want, which is to go to my husband and mend everything and go back to how we were, but what if that is not what is best for the child?"

"The fact that you are already considering how she feels proves that you are what is best for her. Children do not invent such awful things themselves, Dorothy. Someone had to have influenced her to make such accusations."

"You do not understand. She is a very bright girl. If she wanted Lady Annabelle rather than me, she would have known what to do and say to make it happen."

"Yes, but is she cruel enough?"

Dorothy paused. Catherine was not a cruel child, far from it.

She was a kind little girl, though tempestuous at times, and though she had a very smart tongue she was never wicked.

Something had caused her to accuse Dorothy of terrible things, but Eleanor was right; she would never have done it of her own accord.

"What do I do?" Dorothy asked. "I have to fix all of this, but I do not know how."

"You will stay here for the night and collect your thoughts," Eleanor explained, "and then in the morning, I shall force you into that carriage and you will go home.

You will find the truth of what happened, and you will come to your own conclusion.

If you do not like it, then you may ask for an annulment.

If everything is explained, and you are happy, then I shall be even happier for you. "

It was precisely what she needed to hear. There could be no more hiding, not when she knew what she wanted. Her marriage was not perfect, but it was hers, and she would do everything in her power to protect it.

Even if it meant going home to it.