Page 31

N ot knowing where else to turn, Morgan went to the one place he never intended to see.

It was the stately manor of the Duke and Duchess of Lupton, and it was vast. Catherine held his hand tightly as they approached it, and he instinctively took her in his arms as they reached the door.

The butler answered, and looked him up and down.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yes, I believe so. I am the Duke of Ulverston, and this is Catherine Lockheart, my niece. I was wondering if my wife was here?"

"The Duchess has guests today, but the Duchess of Ulverston is not one of them. May I help you with anything else?"

Morgan knew, of course, who the other guests would be.

"May I speak with Her Grace?"

"I believe they are busy. I can ask her for you."

"That would be brilliant. Thank you so much."

He waited with Catherine for a moment, wondering just what she would say. She had no reason to welcome him into her home after everything that he had done, but he hoped that she truly was as good as Dorothy had said she was.

The butler reappeared, his expression blank.

"She has refused. Good day."

The door was closed in an instant, and Morgan's mouth fell open. Nobody had ever treated him so harshly; even Thomas had at least spoken to him with a sort of brotherly goodness. He remained frozen there until at last Catherine turned to face him, shifting so that he placed her back on her feet.

"His guests are the other ladies, I assume?" she asked.

"I would say so."

"Very well. Let us find them, then."

"Catherine, the butler has said that we cannot enter."

"No, he said that you cannot enter. I, on the other hand, am more than capable."

Morgan wondered where on Earth she had gotten such an idea as espionage, but he had greater issues at hand in that moment.

"You will not enter a home without permission!"

"But it is an adventure, Uncle. I have spent my entire life in the same few rooms, and I cannot do it anymore. I want to do something daring."

"There is daring, and there is against the law. Come now, we must–"

But she had already run away, and around the side of the household. He gave chase, but when he turned the corner she was gone.

"Catherine?" he hissed. "Catherine, we have to go. We cannot stay here or else we will get into trouble."

Suddenly, he heard the faint bump of stone against glass. He turned to see his niece standing at a window, throwing small pebbles at it. He ran to her in an instant, covering her hand with his own and taking her in his arms again.

"Stop that this instant. What has gotten into you?"

"This is my mistake to mend," she protested, trying to pull herself free. "I did this to Aunt Dorothy, and now I have to fix it."

When he did not let her go, she did something that she had never done before, even when she arrived with him as a small child.

She screamed.

It was an awful, ear piercing sound, and he almost dropped her out of instinct. In an instant, the window that she had been throwing stones at flew open, and the girl stopped, her eyes wide at those looking back at her.

It was Lady Emma, along with Lady Beatrice and Lady Cecilia. They did not look pleased to see him at all, though nobody was as angry as Lady Cecilia.

"We have already said that we do not wish to talk to you," she thundered.

"Could you talk to me, then?" Catherine asked desperately. "Please, Lady Cecilia, my aunt is missing and it is all my fault."

The three ladies looked at one another, and part of Morgan felt the faintest slither of ease wash over him. They did not seem afraid that Dorothy was missing, which meant that they had to know something. She was safe; she had to be.

The window was closed, and Morgan watched as they all left the room. He panicked, thinking that they had simply gone to another room, but then he heard the front door open. He took Catherine to it, and they were all there, studying the two of them.

"Come in," Lady Emma said gently. "I would have refused, but I want to know what has happened."

He entered, thanking them profusely, and they returned to her drawing room. There were some cakes and sandwiches on the table, but Lady Emma glanced over Catherine and asked for more to be prepared.

"You look unwell, dear," she said softly, gesturing for her to sit next to her. "You must be feeling dreadful."

"I am, and you should not show me any kindness because of it. I am evil and wicked."

Morgan's heart ached to see his niece so furious with herself, and for the first time in his life he knew what true hatred felt like because he completely hated Lady Annabelle for what she had done.

"You are not evil," Lady Beatrice soothed. "You are only very little, and if you have done something wrong then we can fix it."

"It was Aunt Annabelle," she sighed, almost in tears again. "She told me that my uncle wished to send her away, and that it was all Aunt Dorothy's fault. She said that if I did as she told me, then she could stay, and that my uncle would never be cruel to Aunt Dorothy."

"Even she seemed to know that," Lady Cecilia nodded, casting a faint smile his way.

"I should apologize to you first, Your Grace," Catherine continued, looking up at Lady Emma.

"I knew that my aunt was not telling the truth, and I should have said so, but I did not want her to leave.

She was going to do the same thing to all three of you, so that it would be just me and her and Aunt Dorothy again, but it did not work and so she stopped. "

"That is not your fault," Lady Emma smiled. "You could not have known what would happen, and I suppose you were very frightened of what would happen if you spoke, yes?"

Catherine nodded, and Morgan wondered just how his wife had made such loyal and understanding friends.

"Do you know where Aunt Dorothy is?" Catherine asked finally. "She is missing, and I really need to find her so that I can say how sorry I am. She probably hates me, now."

"She most certainly does not," Lady Cecilia replied firmly.

"And yes, we do know where she is, although we are not supposed to tell you.

I will, however, because I would like the three of you to be a family once more.

Heaven knows she deserves that. She is in Scotland with her sister.

I can give you the address, but promise me that you will go there this instant. "

"Of course we will," Morgan replied, and Lady Cecilia gestured to Lady Emma, who disappeared and returned with a letter.

It was from Dorothy, explaining exactly where she would be and why she had left. Morgan did not dare read it, as he could not bear the thought of knowing just how much he had hurt her, but he did note the address.

"I will find her," he assured them, "and I will bring her home."

"That is good," Lady Beatrice nodded, "because we shall soon need her. Emma will soon have her child, and we cannot have that happen without her."

"That is true," Emma nodded, "but do not rush yourselves. I understand that you will need time after all that has happened."

"And that time can be spent once the baby is here," Cecilia replied. "Go, Your Grace, and return with your wife."

They made the journey to Scotland then and there, without any further preparation.

Clothes had been prepared for Catherine, and the ladies had packed food for them for the first while.

It was clear to Morgan that Catherine's conscience had begun to clear, as she was at least eating.

Though he had been saddened by what had taken place, and was furious with himself for allowing it to happen, he was also concerned for his niece, not to mention his wife, who he could not reach quickly enough.

When, at last, they did reach the household that he had been given, he noticed that Catherine was trembling. She had never been outside of her own home before, and now she was in another country entirely. She was bound to be afraid, but that did not make seeing it any easier.

"It will be all right," he promised her.

"What if Aunt Dorothy never wants to see me again?"

"That will not happen. You will see that for yourself."

This time, when he knocked, he received a far warmer welcome. He was greeted by a lady that looked very much like Dorothy, and she was smiling brightly at him.

"I shall assume that you are my sister's husband?"

"Indeed," he replied, and she let him in.

If she still wanted him to be, that was.

He was led into the parlor room, and sitting before him was Dorothy. She seemed brighter than she had been when he last saw her, and she had a small child sitting beside her. In an instant, Catherine ran to her, which startled the child.

"Oh, Dorothy," she cried, throwing herself at her, "I am truly so sorry for what I did. I should have told the truth, but I did not, and now you must hate me. I will never forgive myself, and– and–"

"Hush now," Dorothy said gently, stroking her hair. "I do not hate you. I could never hate a child. Whatever has happened, we will mend it."

"Do you promise?" she sniffed.

"You came all the way to Scotland to find me. I believe that we can find a way through this. In the meantime, might you like to play with your cousins?"

Catherine nodded enthusiastically, taking the small boy's hand in hers and leaving with him.

"Is this her first time with other children?" she asked.

"Indeed," Morgan nodded, and she patted the seat beside her.

He took it, and neither one spoke. Morgan had prepared an entire speech, filled with wallowing and groveling and despair, but the sight of his wife had made him forget all of it.

"You must think me a villain," she said suddenly.

"I could never. Dorothy, I know now what has happened, and I have never felt like such a fool. I should have known, I should have seen it, but I missed it."

"You had a lot to contend with. I understand."

"You should not. You should be furious, and you should be shouting at me and expecting grand gestures and making threats."

"Perhaps, but I am not so inclined as to do that. All I want to know is what truly happened."

She smiled gently at him, and the words came easily. He told her about Lady Annabelle's plan, and how terrified he had been when she disappeared, only to be crushed when he learned that she was seeking an annulment.

"An annulment?" she echoed. "I did not tell her that. She told me that I ought to, and I did consider it, but I never told her that."

The fact that she truly had thought to end their marriage killed him, but he had to press on.

"She showed me a letter. She claimed you had left it for Catherine."

"I would never say such things to a child, though I suppose that has been called into question enough of late."

"Do you mean to say that you did not write it?"

"I believe our houseguest has been the cause of more discord than we know," she nodded. "In any case, I have had a long time to think, and my conclusion is that I cannot do it anymore."

He froze.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I cannot be this meek little thing anymore," she replied, and he softened.

"All my life, I have been easily overlooked, someone that allowed the worst to be said and done to me if it meant avoiding difficulty.

I thought that it would make my life easier, but all it has truly done is make me feel less capable.

I refuse to do it any longer. I am a duchess, and I plan to act accordingly. "

He looked into his wife's eyes and saw the raw determination in them. She had made her decision, and he thanked the stars that she had chosen to remain his wife. They could return home, and mend everything that had been broken and go back to the way things were.

No, he reminded himself, it would be better. He would do anything she asked of him, and ensure at every turn that she was blissfully happy in the way that she deserved to be.

"This will not happen again," he promised. "I will never allow anyone to make you feel inferior again, nor will I ever believe anything but the best of you. Dorothy, I do not truly deserve this chance, but now that you are giving me it I will in turn give my all so that you do not regret it."

Without thinking, he kissed her. He feared that it might have been too soon, and that she would push him away and want to wait, but instead she only pulled him closer.

For a brief moment, it was like the night they met, where he had met a strangely passionate young lady that acted willfully and had him entranced.

But she was so much more than that to him now.

She was his wife, the one that had welcomed his niece with open arms no matter where she had come from, who wanted to be the very best for him that she could be and was willing to give him another chance to prove himself.

He loved her, and nothing brought him greater pleasure than that.

"Shall we go home?" he asked.

"I would like that very much," she nodded, "although Catherine might object to that. She may wish to be with other children for a while."

"I can understand that," he agreed.

Catherine did, indeed, wish to spend time with other children. For the first time in her life, she was the oldest, and therefore the one in charge and she liked that a great deal. She came to life around them, and for a short while it was as though she had never been unwell at all.

"It is a miracle," Dorothy whispered as they watched them.

"Indeed," he replied. "The second miracle that has ever happened to me."