Chapter 6
D orothy had not expected to be ambushed the moment she entered her household.
Granted, it was not a terrible thing that she had become a part of, but it was quite overwhelming. The modiste had arrived, and the drawing room was covered in an array of fabrics which her mother was choosing from.
"Ah, Dorothy," she said brightly, "do come and help me with this, if you wish."
She was suspicious in an instant, as her mother had never allowed her to choose anything, but it was too tempting an offer to miss. She joined the two ladies, and in an instant she saw that floral lace that she had so adored each time she saw it.
"Is this for my wedding gown?" she asked.
"Indeed, though you must not tell your father. He believes that this was all arranged weeks in advance, but the truth is that I wanted you to tell me what you wanted. Your father is away until tomorrow, and so I thought you might appreciate helping us."
"Oh, Mother, thank you!"
It had been a strange time, when both her mother and father had been trying to be kinder to her without the other knowing about it. Dorothy knew that it was something she should have questioned, but she was enjoying the positive attention too much to do so.
Instinctively, she reached for the lace.
The modiste nodded at her choice, and suggested a fabric to match it.
Aside from that one decision, however, Dorothy was happy to not choose anything else.
She trusted the modiste and her mother to make the perfect gown, and she did not wish to interrupt them as they did so.
Then came time for her measurements to be taken.
It had always been a terrible part of the process, and Dorothy hated it.
It was an awful reminder that she was not tall and slender like the beautiful young ladies that had sneered at her before she met Cecilia and Emma.
They had been so unkind to her, and thankfully her two new friends were always more than willing to speak for her when that happened.
Beatrice, when she joined them, did not say anything herself, but she was always standing beside Dorothy, unashamed of her.
It did not make remembering that she was different any easier, however.
The modiste measured her waist, and instinctively she breathed in, holding herself together tightly. She heard as the woman tutted quietly at her, and she was positively mortified by it.
"I will be placing her on a reducing diet," her mother noted. "It should be feasible before her wedding day, and then all will be well."
The modiste nodded, but she did not seem to agree at all. Dorothy shared such sentiments as that. She had always been softer and rounder than the other girls, and nothing she tried had ever changed that. A mere reducing diet for a few weeks would not be any different.
A familiar sting of tears came to her eyes, but she willed them not to fall. This was supposed to be a joyous time, and that was what she was determined to make it no matter what. She was having her dream wedding dress created, and that was something to be pleased about.
When the modiste left, however, her confidence faltered. She knew that she was disappointing her family, and that she always had, and there was nothing that she could do to fix it. She had never been good enough.
"Well?" her mother asked. "Are you excited yet?"
"Yes, Mother. I feel prepared, now, which has quite surprised me."
"Good. We have a few short weeks to ensure you are ready. I meant what I said, by the way, about that reducing diet."
"I know. I understand."
Her mother smiled at her, leaving the room. Dorothy watched her go and remained standing in the drawing room, feeling rather empty. Her mother's plan would not work, and then what would she do?
The following day, Dorothy awoke and stared at her ceiling.
She had to dress and go downstairs so that she could join the Duke on a promenade, but she could not bring herself to leave her bed.
He was a good man, one seemingly still willing to marry her, but that did not mean he would like her, or that he would feel any sort of particular attraction to her.
It pained her to know that he would not see her as a worthy duchess, and that even if he did, the ton would not.
They would see her as a weak lady, one undeserving of the title.
That was, after all, how she saw herself.
There was a sudden bang on her door, which made her jolt into a sitting position.
"Dorothy," her father boomed. "It is time to come downstairs."
She called that she would not be long, and soon enough her lady's maid came to prepare her.
As her father had allowed, she wore her favorite pink gown and her lady's maid pinned her hair into place in such a way that she had some semblance of elegance to her.
She thanked her profusely before going to the drawing room.
The Duke was already there, and he did not seem very pleased to be.
"Good morning, Your Grace."
"Good morning," he smiled at last. "Are you ready to go?"
"Yes, as is my maid."
She had half expected a conversation to follow, but it did not. Instead, he bundled her into his carriage and they left immediately.
"My apologies," he said after they had left. "I prefer not to speak in their presence, if I can help it."
"Oh. That is all right. Might I ask you why?"
"It has nothing to do with you, if that is what you are concerned about. What troubles me about them is their apparent desperation to be seen as something more than they are."
She should have taken offense to it, and she knew that, but in actuality she found it refreshing. She had had her fill of those that said and did everything they could to be seen as perfection, and she liked that the Duke did not hold himself to such impossible standards.
"Do you not believe that I would do such a thing?" she asked.
"No, I can clearly tell that you would never do so. I like that about you."
Dorothy somehow managed not to ask him what else he liked about her.
"How is it so obvious that I do not wish to climb socially?"
"Well, if you did, you would not kiss strangers in dark gardens," he chuckled.
Her cheeks flamed.
"I do not make a habit of doing that, if you must know!"
"Even if you did, you should know that it makes no difference to me. We all have a past, and things we would rather we had not done."
"I certainly do not."
"Is that to say you are pleased that you kissed me?"
"No– yes! I do not know. I cannot believe that I did it even now, if I am honest. I have never done anything like it before, and I do not plan to repeat such terrible actions."
"That is quite a shame."
If her cheeks were pink before, they were certainly now scarlet.
It was improper to engage in such conversation, she knew that much, but she was uncertain of just how terrible it was.
They were not married as yet, but they soon would be, and what difference did a few simple weeks make?
It was not as though she would know him any better by the time their wedding came, and so where was the harm now that would not exist then?
"Very well," she grinned. "What sort of past do you have?"
"One similar to your own, I believe. Some mistakes were made, but I have only ever done what I thought was best."
"Might you be able to tell me about any of those mistakes?"
"One day, perhaps. I will tell you, though, that nobody knows some of the things I have done."
Given his stature, Dorothy thought, it could have been anything. She could not fathom him being a threatening and violent man, but that did not mean it was impossible. Once again, her fear came flooding back. It was quite apparent that the Duke could see that.
"It is nothing to fear," he chuckled. "It is only that I wish to keep such things private."
"Even from your wife?"
"No, but you are not my wife. I do not yet know if that is what you wish to be."
"I do."
"It is what your parents want for you," he corrected. "I do not care what they do or do not want. I care about what you want."
"Your Grace, I can assure you that I am quite capable of thinking for myself."
"And you will do so, I have no doubt about that, but I want to know that you have done so rather than saying what you think I wish to hear."
Dorothy, while pleased that he was allowing her to make the decision for herself, wished that he would take her at her word. He must have known that she had no real say in the matter, and that she was doing what was expected of her. If that were the case, why was he so adamant?
They reached the park, and as she leaned down with her left hand to exit the carriage she noticed her ring.
She had not truly admired it very much, simply acknowledging that it was on her finger and nothing more.
Now that she was truly paying attention, however, she noted that it was exactly what she would have wanted in an engagement ring.
"If you do not like it, we can find you another," he said.
"Oh, no, that will not be necessary. This one is lovely."
"It is just as well that you said that as it was my mother's. She spent a lot of time marveling at it."
"Then it is unfortunate that she and I will never meet. I believe we would have had quite a lot in common."
The Duke smiled at that, and they began their walk.
"So," he commented as they reached a row of flowers, "given that you have a passion for these things, I must know: do you know the Latin names for plants, or only the English?"
"I know a few in Latin, but I must confess that I find the language quite difficult. The words can be very long."
"Do you not enjoy reading?"
"I do, but sometimes I see a word that is very complicated and I wonder quite what the use is. It is a word, what does it have to prove?"
He laughed at that, shaking his head.
"If you had attended university, you would have had to learn them."
"In which case, I gladly would have. I would have been able to learn, had I been taught."
"You still could, you know."
She turned to him with a furrowed brow.
"What?" he asked. "I am a duke, and I have my ways. Even if you are not permitted to attend university, I could arrange a tutor for you. That way, you would be taught by someone knowledgeable."
Dorothy's eyes sparkled.
"Do not suggest that if you do not mean it."
"I would never do that. Would you like a tutor? I do not mean to suggest you need one, of course."
"No, I know. In truth, if I really tried, I could learn it all myself, but I will not pretend the thought of a tutor is not exciting."
"Then we shall arrange for it. If you are my wife, that is."
"Your Grace, why are you refusing to accept that I wish to be?"
"It is not a refusal. I simply– I do not want you to feel as though you are trapped in a marriage with a bear such as myself."
"I do not think you are a bear," she said softly, the pair of them standing still in the middle of the path. "And even if I did, you were wearing the face of one when we met, and that did not scare me away, did it?"
He chuckled, and she took his arm and they continued.
"Very well, then," he sighed. "You leave me with no other choice than to ask you to marry me."
She tapped her ring finger against his arm pointedly.
"I, on the other hand, have choices, but I shall accept your proposal regardless."
They continued on companionably, but eventually a dark cloud came over the Duke.
Dorothy noticed it, but she hoped that it would disappear.
In the same way that he did not want to force her hand, she did not want to force his.
If he was going to be her husband, he would have to learn to speak to her if he felt he needed to.
And so, she began attempting to name flowers in Latin.
She was surprised by how well she did, with the Duke only having to correct her a few times.
She had never expected that she would do so well, and for the first time in her life she wondered just how far she could have come had she trusted herself more.
"And what might your favorite be?" the Duke asked after a while.
"I know this one in Latin. It is Strelitzia Reginae."
"Bird of paradise?" he asked. "I never would have guessed that. Why is that one your favorite?"
"I like that they have the appearance of birds. Have you ever seen one?"
"I have seen a picture, yes, but I did not see a bird."
"Then I will show you sometime. It is more than that, though. It is the colors. They are so beautiful."
He nodded along as she explained, and she enjoyed that. Even her friends had moments when they were not as invested in her passions as she would have liked, though she did not blame them for that. In any case, it was nice to have a companion that cared about what she had to say.
"What is your favorite?" she asked.
"Lilium Lancifolium," he replied. "Might you know what that is?"
"I believe so. A tiger lily, yes?"
He smiled, impressed with that.
"Do you have any?" she asked.
"I do not, although I would love to have a few. I have been thinking about having a greenhouse built, but I have yet to find the time."
"I would also like a greenhouse very much. We could grow all sorts of things that way."
"Then I shall see what can be done."
They continued on, and at last Dorothy found the courage to say what she had wanted to tell him.
"Would it be all right if I said something quite absurd?"
"I would not be averse to it."
"I believe we might actually be quite the match. I do not know why my father chose you, nor why you decided to agree to it, but I am pleased that you did."
He smiled softly, patting the hand that was on his other arm.
"As am I, Lady Dorothy."
"I thought that we were going to drop the formalities?"
"You never did. You continue to use my title, and so I thought you were not ready."
"I suppose it is because it is strange. When it comes to my own name, though, just Dorothy is fine. Nobody else that I know calls me Lady Dorothy."
"Do you not know very many people?"
"Only my family and my three friends, although they are very good friends of mine. I assume we will be invited to dinners with them often, especially my friend Emma. She is a duchess, and the only other married friend of mine."
But the Duke had changed suddenly. It was as though his demeanor had changed entirely, and he did not wish to be there anymore.
"We ought to return soon," he muttered.
"Have I said something wrong?"
"No. I simply…"
He cleared his throat, and she waited.
"What is it?"
"I do not plan on ever leaving my household once we are married."