Chapter Twenty-Six

After the handful of dinner parties Dorie had attended with her father and stepmother in Durham, she’d thought she was prepared for London.

How wrong she was.

Not only was it intimidating because of the sheer number of people, but the sheer daunting splendor of the city made her feel all the more out of her element. Her father’s house in London was filled with furniture that looked more like art. Her wardrobe was filled to bursting with the latest fashions, and her maids—now there were two—busied themselves for hours with her hair and clothing.

The thing she hated most about being in the city was that her family had only come after making certain she was not carrying Bryce’s child. It had been determined the first month, and the second. But her father wanted to be absolutely certain there were no mishaps before presenting her in London.

And present her he did. From the frequent visitors to their home for dinner or cards, to the endless trips to the theater where inquisitive people came up to be introduced, she was surrounded by people who looked at her as something amusing. They tittered and laughed at her speech to the point she rarely spoke.

It reminded her of the years she’d spent alone in her room unwilling to talk for fear she would say the wrong thing. Her silence now was brought on by a similar apprehension.

She didn’t want to embarrass her father, but she wasn’t sure how to be entertaining. Once she spoke of something funny one of the twins had done earlier in the day, only to receive stares in return. Perhaps she had told the story poorly, for she found their antics hilarious.

Even so, men flocked to her—though she had to think it was more because of the property her father offered as part of a marriage settlement rather than any interest in her as a person.

Her father was very careful in his wording when the subject of her “late” husband came up. Rather than say she was a widow, he merely said she’d lost her husband.

She couldn’t argue with the statement. She had in fact lost Bryce. Not that she’d ever really had him in the first place. But the fact remained, she felt his loss immensely.

Especially when she was introduced to some English nobleman who was clearly not Bryce.

She’d written her husband a dozen letters, though they all sat in her room. She’d not had the courage to send them. She’d promised him freedom and promised herself happiness when she left Dunardry. And she was going to see that at least one of them got what was promised.

It was with this thought that she allowed herself to be primped and polished for a dance where she would spend time with Lord Reginald Truman…who had mentioned an interest in asking her father for her hand.

“Perhaps we should wait a little while longer,” Dorie suggested while smoothing her dress.

“What would we be waiting on, dear?” her stepmother asked as though truly confused.

Had she not been with Dorie every day when she’d asked if there’d been word from Bryce?

“My husband might still change his mind and come for me. I don’t think he’d like to find out I spent the evening at a dance, interacting with a stranger.”

“He is not a stranger. You have been properly introduced. Now, do you remember the steps?”

Her father had spent lord knows how much money for a baroque dance instructor in the hopes of making her seem graceful. Perhaps he thought if he could keep her dancing, the men would look past her Scottishness.

“There.” Her stepmother stepped back to look at her. “You look lovely.”

“Thank ye—you,” she corrected, though she knew she still sounded like a lass from the Highlands. “Might I have a moment alone?”

“Of course. I’ll see you downstairs.” Harriet squeezed her shoulder as she passed, as mothers did naturally. “Everything will work out. You’ll see.”

When Dorie was alone, she sat on her bed and tried to gather her courage to move on. She’d been hoping for months that Bryce would come to get her and take her home.

But he wasn’t coming. She had to accept that.

And she wouldn’t meet a man to love her sitting in her room and giving in to her fears. Perhaps Reginald was the answer to her prayers and all she needed to do was give him a chance to win her heart. With a deep breath she brushed a hand over her gown again and left her room.

As she neared the bottom of the stairs she caught her father and stepmother in a quiet argument. Their words sounded like hissing as Harriet informed him of her displeasure. It wasn’t until Dorie heard her name a moment before they turned to look at her that she realized their disagreement was about her.

Her father frowned and turned back to his wife, who nodded encouragingly.

With a deep breath—much like the one she’d taken in her room for courage—her father pasted a strained smile on his face.

“Before we leave, might you have a moment to speak in my study?”

“Aye—I mean, yes, of course.”

The frown deepened. She wasn’t sure if she was making a hack of her attempt to sound more British or if something else was bothering him. She hated to disappoint her father. He’d gone to so much trouble in order to secure her happiness. She hated for him to think he’d failed. Especially because he’d never actually had a fair chance of accomplishing his goal.

“You don’t need to try to change your accent, sweetheart. You’re Scottish, and anyone who is interested in you will have to accept and appreciate that.”

“Yes, Father.”

“And don’t be so accommodating. If you’re upset with me, you should just tell me so. If you don’t care for Reginald, you don’t have to accept his suit, understood?”

“Yes, Father.”

Her acquiescence didn’t seem to please him. The frown remained.

“Please sit,” he said, his words abrupt.

“Have I done something wrong?” she asked immediately, hoping she’d not upset him. She knew him well enough to know he’d not lock her in her room for years, but still, she didn’t want to risk his anger.

“Of course not. I don’t know how you could think such a thing. You’ve been the perfect guest. Not a complaint. Even when your brothers and sisters pester you for hours.”

“They are lovely,” she said, wanting him to know how much she loved her siblings…terrors that they were at times.

“You’ve not hounded me for a single thing. No trinkets or dresses.”

“I don’t need anything, Papa. You’ve already given me so much. I couldn’t ask for more.” She truly didn’t know what was left to ask for. If he’d tell her, she’d demand it that moment if it took the sad look from his face.

“You didn’t even resist when I hired a dancing instructor, though the fellow seemed a snobbish wretch.”

The man had been unpleasant. He’d looked down his nose at her as if she were a clump of horse dung. But she’d been treated far worse by Wallace, so it was an easy thing to grit her teeth and bear it so she could please her father.

“I don’t understand, Papa. It seems that you wish I were more trouble, when I’ve striven to be the opposite. Why would you want me to complain and fuss?”

“Because,” he practically shouted as he paced and ran his hand through his hair. “If you were just a bit less perfect maybe I wouldn’t feel so horrible for what I’ve done.”

“But what have you done?” she asked as she watched him, his body tense. Whatever it was, she knew it was bad. No one would be this upset over nothing. Had he already accepted Reginald’s proposal before she’d had the chance to consider it? It seemed drastic for a man who had encouraged her to hold out for love.

After a few more laps of the room, her father came to sit next to her.

“I made sure Bryce would never come to London.” He rubbed his temples. “There, I’ve confessed. Why don’t I feel any better?”

Dorie gasped and nearly fell out of her chair. The dizziness only became worse as he told her what he’d done, sending an offer to Lachlan to provide men to take down the McCurdy in exchange for a promise from Bryce never to approach her again. And…requiring the annulment signed and returned.

“Why would you do this?” she asked, her voice not much louder than a whisper.

“I thought it would make it easier for you to heal. To move on with your life. I wanted to be certain he didn’t show up out of selfishness. Loneliness is not the same as love, and I’ll not have him keep you as his wife because he didn’t want to be alone. You deserve love, Dorie. You deserve to live your life with someone the way your mother and I should have lived ours.”

Dorie nodded and looked down at her hands, her fingers twisted. She took a few deep breaths and relaxed. She appreciated her father’s honesty, and no harm had really been done.

She cleared her throat and looked up at the man who obviously cared about her enough to go to so much trouble and expense to see her happy. What a difference from the horrible man she’d thought was her father.

“It’s fine, Papa. I know he wouldn’t have come even if you’d not forced him to stay away. It’s foolish of me to waste time hoping he will come when I know in my heart he won’t. Let’s go to the ball. I’ll give Lord Reginald a chance. As you’ve said, it’s time for me to press on.”

“I’m so sorry. If you’d rather, I can send a letter stating I’ll not support their cause unless he comes to London to see you.”

She laughed at his change of heart. He was willing to do anything for her, and that brought tears to her eyes. She was loved. She wasn’t loved by her husband. But she was loved by her family.

“Nay.” She leaned up to kiss her father on the cheek. “But thank you. I wouldn’t want him to come because he was forced to do so. I do have some pride.” She smiled.

“You are an amazing woman. The men will be lining up to ask me for your hand. I shall sharpen a stick and keep it at hand to fend them all off.”

She laughed and smacked his arm. “I’m afraid the dancing instructor was far too full of himself to teach me anything of value. You’ll be lucky if we make it through the night without having to replace someone’s shoes.”

They were still laughing when they entered the hall to find Harriet watching them. Dorie knew the worry on the woman’s face was for her. Even though this woman wasn’t related by blood, it was clear she cared.

She hugged the woman tightly. “All is well,” Dorie assured her.

“I’ve confessed my sins and my eldest has forgiven me,” her father said. “Let’s go tread on some shoes, shall we?” He held out his elbow and gave Harriet a smile. He offered his other elbow to Dorie and she took it, eager to get on with it.

Dorie stepped out of the house determined to find someone who could help mend her broken heart. Or at the very least survive a dance with her.