Chapter 20
E ver since Dorothy had met Catherine, she had wanted to know more about her, and now she was asking when she would leave the household.
It was not that Morgan was ashamed of her, and he never had been, but this was treacherous waters. If she was allowed out into the gardens, then soon she would ask to go even further afield, and then what would happen?
It risked judgment, and it was a judgment that she did not deserve.
He focused on the ride instead of mentioning this, however. He had wanted a pleasant morning, as he had found himself enjoying the company of his wife more and more with each passing day. He liked being in her presence, and it made him feel good when she was near him.
"Do you wish for us to go anywhere in particular?" she asked, her eyes curious.
"No, I had not thought of that. I thought we might wander for a while."
He was also not afraid to admit that she was a beautiful lady.
He wished that she could see it, that she was a refreshingly different sort of beauty.
He had seen a hundred ladies in society, and each looked the same.
Some were more angular, with sharper features, and some were softer, but Dorothy did not look like any of them.
She was the sort of lady that enjoyed a meal, and that preferred to read a book than to promenade, and though that was perhaps not looked on kindly by polite society it was precisely what he also enjoyed.
"You have done marvelous work with these gardens," he commented. "I do not know how you find the time."
"It is easy, truly. The hardest part is the grass, as it takes the longest, but with how the weather has been of late it is at least growing slowly. Other than that, I need only tend to the flowers, which I enjoy."
"Even so, it is a great deal of work. I can find a gardener if you need."
"If you wish to do so, I will not argue, so long as I can continue to cultivate the flowers. I do so like doing it, as I can see the goodness that is done."
"That can be arranged," he agreed.
They continued on in silence, and Morgan watched her as they rode.
He could tell that she was concentrating, not completely at ease, but she was doing far better than she had led him to believe.
It was not unlike her; she never seemed to entirely believe in herself and her abilities, but she was yet to be incapable of anything.
He wished that she had more faith in herself, but it would take time.
Meanwhile, he did want to know what had caused it.
"Why are you never certain of yourself?"
She looked at him with wide eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"You never seem to believe in yourself. When we do things, you seem scared to fail, even if you cannot. You never do anything wrong, yet it seems to be all that you wait for."
She looked ahead again, as though unable to meet his eye. He hoped that he had not done anything to cause her offence.
"I want to say that it was the ton, " she sighed, "but it was more than that."
"Surely it had an effect, though?"
"Of course. I have always been compared to my sister.
When we were younger, she was complimented on her looks and her talents, while I was put on reducing diet after reducing diet and given harsher and harsher tutors.
Nothing that I did was good enough. My father told me that if I was exceptional in other areas, people would be forgiving of my unfortunate… stature."
"I do not see anything unfortunate about your stature."
She pulled her horse to a stop, blushing profusely.
"It is true!" he pressed. "In all honesty, I cannot understand why ladies think so much about that sort of thing, nor why your father would have cared so much. I think you look wonderful."
She quite evidently did not want to accept what he was saying. Then again, Morgan wondered if she had ever heard nice things about her from those other than her three friends.
"The ton did not help," she continued, not acknowledging him.
"The ladies were the worst. They would mock me incessantly, saying that I looked like a farmer's daughter, and that I was unfit for the nobility.
It did not help that I love botany. I looked ridiculous, dirt under my nails from being in the gardens and grass stains on my skirts.
It is no surprise to me that I was not well-liked. "
"You must not say that about yourself. You have a passion, which makes you far more interesting than any of those other ladies. They can use a fan, and that is about it. I cannot believe that you would heed anything that such people have to say about you."
"It is strange, yes, but it is all that I ever heard. I was not thin enough, not beautiful enough, and nothing that I did ever seemed to change that. I wish that it did."
"I am very pleased that it did not."
She smiled, and he hoped that she believed him. It was, after all, the truth. He may well not have looked upon her a second time if she looked the same as every other lady. He would have married her, but he never would have been as captivated by her as he found himself to be.
"How does the ton perceive you?" she asked. "You are the Duke now, but you were once a second son."
"They saw me as precisely that. The second son and the spare. I was never the important one, as I told you with that lady I was engaged to. I was not Thomas, and there was no changing that. I did not care too much, as it meant I had more time to fix what he would break."
"Second-borns also have more freedoms, do they not?"
"Under normal circumstances, yes, but I never had the time to enjoy them.
I was always doing the work of a duke without the title.
Even before the death of my father, I was following after my brother and trying to mend things.
The duel that was the end of him was not the first that he was challenged to. It was actually the seventh."
She gasped, and though it was nothing that shocked him anymore, when he thought about the things his brother had done he realized just how shameful it was.
"You were a good brother," she replied. "The best, I would say."
"I wish I had been able to do more. I wish I had been able to keep him out of trouble, and that he had learned how to be.
It was always strange when people assumed that I was the older brother, and I always longed to be the younger one.
I never wanted the title, I simply wanted to be myself.
I wanted to attend university and study botany and do whatever pleased me. "
"If it is any consolation, you are a very good duke. The staff often tell me that you take care of them, and from what they have told me you have a very happy town."
"I do feel consoled by that. I try to make everyone happy, but sometimes… well, it concerns me that I cannot make a mistake. A single lapse in judgment could ruin everything, and that means that I cannot afford to make any."
"I do not know about that. I think that–"
She screamed, but it was cut off.
He turned sharply, only to see her horse throwing her off.
The horse bucked and neighed and Morgan froze, pleading that she would not be hurt.
She landed on the ground, and remained laying there for a moment.
He dove from his own horse and quickly soothed hers.
When it was calm once more, he ran to her.
She was on the ground, unmoving, and his blood ran cold.
She could not be hurt. He could not bear the thought of it.
"Dorothy?" he asked gently before his voice filled with urgency. "Dorothy, are you all right?"
Miraculously, she groaned quietly, pushing herself up from the heap she had landed in.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
"No, not really. I– oh!"
She grabbed her hip. It would undoubtedly bruise terribly, given the height she had fallen from. She tried to pull herself to her feet, but he stopped her.
"We do not know how hurt you are yet," he explained gently, going down to the ground by her side. "We ought to wait a moment."
"I am perfectly fine, honestly. I have hurt my hip, but I am capable of walking."
"I wish to be certain of that. I cannot stand the thought of something having happened to you and it becoming worse."
She looked at him curiously, as if astounded that he cared for her. He did, for she was his wife. There was also, of course, the innate need to protect her and to be near her at all times, but he told himself that was simply because they were married.
Even if he was becoming aware that that was not the case.
He had instinctively positioned himself so that she was resting her head against his chest, and he tried to control his heartbeat.
He wanted to be steady, so that she would relax after the ordeal, but he knew it was pounding.
The accident had frightened him, and he hated the possibility of something bad happening to her.
She giggled.
"What is it?"
"Well, this proves my point perfectly."
"What point?"
"The one I was trying to make when I was thrown down here," she laughed softly. "I was trying to say that mistakes can be made, and that it is not the end of everything. It all continues, and we carry on."
"That is a very good way to look at things," he nodded. "I wish that I could do the same."
"Then do so. It may take time, but it is entirely possible. We can always correct our mistakes. It is one of the most important things that we can do."
He considered that for a short while. He was not a man that made mistakes, and he never had been.
If anything, he had always refused to make them as he had to compensate for his brother.
There had to be a good son, and it was not going to be Thomas and so someone had to save the family name and that was Morgan.
"I suppose I still live in his shadow," he sighed. "The helpful younger brother to the daring and bold one. I never did anything for myself. Everything I did depended on him and what was needed because of his actions."
"I know, and it is rather morbid perhaps, but he is gone now. You have the rest of your life to be your own self, rather than a brother. That does not mean that you will forget him, of course, but it means that you will be able to be yourself."
Morgan nodded. He knew that she was right, and that he would one day have to stop blaming Thomas for what had happened, but it was not going to be easy. He had spent his entire life trying to appease him, and it had been that way even after his death.
"Perhaps you might help me to my feet?" she suggested after a while.
He took her hands in his and gently pulled her upward.
She stumbled a little, falling into his arms, but she pulled away again and stood straight.
She winced a little, and Morgan did not dare think of how dreadful the bruising would be, but she nodded with determination and they began their return to the household.
She simply had not expected her return to be made in his arms.