Page 35 of Her Bear of a Duke
"Yes, quite. Now, why are you out here?"
"I am out here because I hate my room."
He laughed gently at her, then louder. She joined him, in spite of everything. It was a ridiculous reason to hide outside at such a late hour, but it was the truth, and he accepted it willingly.
"Yes, my mother could not stand it. She had not been the one to choose it, but my father insisted that we had happier colors in her rooms. Everywhere else was dark, and he wanted her to have her own bright and pleasant space. Unfortunately, she enjoyed the darkness, and so it was the one part of the house that she loathed."
It helped to know that she was not the exception in her dislike of it. When he composed himself, however, he seemed to consider all of what she had said.
"But if you do not like the darkness of the manor, nor do you like the brightness of your rooms, what do you like?"
"Oh, the other rooms are perfectly fine, though not entirely to my tastes. It is only my bedchambers, for they are yellow."
"That is a pleasant color, is it not?"
"Not when you have been forced to wear it all your life, in some vain attempt to make you look brighter and happier. All that it did was make me look like a citrus fruit."
She had thought that he might laugh at her again, but he did not. Instead, there was that sincerity again, the one that made her feel strange even though she could not quite explain why that was. All that she knew was that it was the same way she had felt when they were alone in the gardens at that ball.
"I can arrange for you to have new gowns," he said gently. "You may see the modiste whenever you please, and you may choose whatever makes you happy."
"What makes me happy is plain shades, not the exquisite colors that I ought to prefer."
"You may dress in brown for all that I care. Truly, Dorothy, you need not try to bend yourself here. I do not care whether you are the very picture of theton'sexpectations, for I am well aware that I am not either. I want you to be happy, so whatever it is that does that is what you should do."
"Very well, if you insist, though I shall also have a few in the expected colors, in the event that we attend a ball or some such thing."
He nodded, but Dorothy knew that he had no intentions of attending social events.
"May I ask you something?" she asked after a moment.
"You may."
"Why did you kiss me?"
He remained still for a moment, as if uncertain of what to say. They were standing close to one another, tantalizingly so, and Dorothy looked up at him with the same thoughts that she had the night they met. She waited for him to answer her, or at least to come even closer.
Instead, he stepped away, his gaze sliding from hers.
"It is late," he said, looking away. "We ought to retire to bed."
"Morgan, I–"
"If you dislike your room, you may choose another. They are all prepared, and likely more to your taste."
He left her standing on the balcony, her heart in her stomach. She wanted to follow him, to demand answers, but she could not. Her feet remained where they were, and she stood in place as if that would do anything at all to help her.
She slept in her own room that night.
CHAPTER 13
"Francine, do you believe in ghosts?"
It had been a difficult night's sleep once more. After her encounter with Morgan, Dorothy had hoped to sleep well and wake late in the morning, but she was out of bed just after dawn. Francine had arrived to prepare her for the day, but Dorothy could not think of much other than the dream she had had.
The house was groaning, a girl's voice echoing through the halls. It called out to Dorothy, begging her to help her and growing more and more desperate. Dorothy ran through the household trying to rescue her, trying to follow her pleas, but each time she saw the slight figure and reached out, she could not quite get to her. At last, the girl turned to her, but her face contorted a hundred different ways, and then she screamed.
It had been the reason why Dorothy was awake so early. She was covered in sweat and breathing heavily, and she wanted to change her clothes so that she could forget about it.
