“Thank you, Dorothea,” she responded warmly. “I’m happy that you came to see me. It saves me the trouble of having to look for you myself. I feared I would have gotten lost if I did.”
“Why would you want to look for me?”
“Because I wished to speak with you of course. I thought it would be nice if we could sit down for a little chat.”
Dorothea blinked once. “We have nothing to talk about.”
Her bluntness took Catriona by surprise. “Don’t we? We could talk about your day or perhaps the fact that I am now married to your father. Or, if you wish, we could talk about what you like to do for fun.”
At that moment, Nina decided to poke her head in the doorway, distracting Dorothea from whatever response she was about to give. Her eyes lit up with excitement, and she lifted a tentative hand before she lowered it to her side.
“It’s all right,” Catriona assured her. “She likes to be pet, and I think she remembers you from your dip in the river.”
Uncertainty still lingered in Dorothea’s eyes, but she raised her hand once more, gently touching Nina on her snout. Nina began to pant happily then she lumbered closer and licked Dorothea’s hand.
The giggle Dorothea let out was music to Catriona’s ears. Gone was the stoic little girl, and in her place was one full of light and happiness. “She’s so friendly,” Dorothea gushed. “I wish I had a dog that would follow me around like Nina does with you.”
“Why don’t we ask your father if you could have one then?” Catriona suggested, even though she had a feeling she already knew the answer.
Dorothea shook her head. “Daddy would never allow it.”
Catriona held back her scowl at that. She could imagine that there were many things Joseph wouldn’t allow.
Catriona stood, reaching out a hand to Dorothea. “Let’s not linger out here. Would you like to come inside? I could have tea brought to my room.”
Dorothea hesitated once more, but Nina shoved her snout into the girl’s side, as if urging her to go into the room, and she was convinced. She took Catriona’s hand and allowed her to lead her inside. Catriona dutifully rang the bellpull, then joined Dorothea on the sofa at the base of the bed.
“Would you like me to talk to him then?” Catriona continued. “Your father, I mean. Perhaps I could convince him to get you a puppy.”
Dorothea solemnly shook her head. She continued rubbing Nina’s head, Nina happily accepting the affection. “I don’t think Daddy will listen to you.”
“Why not? I can be rather convincing when given the chance.”
Dorothea spared her a look so incredulous that Catriona was almost offended. “Not my daddy. He’s different.”
“Well, I cannot deny that. I don’t think I have ever met anyone like him.”
“What does that mean?”
“Only that I think I may have met my match in your father; that’s all. Though that does not mean that I am deterred.”
From the way Dorothea studied her, Catriona wondered if she could see right through her. “Do you like my daddy?”
“W-what—” Catriona broke off, stunned. She was saved by the knock on the door, marking the arrival of a maid. Catriona was all too happy to give the maid her full attention, asking her to provide tea, before she turned back to Dorothea. The little girl watched her closely.
Catriona cleared her throat, hoping that Dorothea was not astute enough to notice the blush creeping up her neck. “I think your daddy is a good man,” she said at last.
“I think he is a good man too. But do you like him?”
“I…” She didn’t know what she felt for Joseph. It wasn’t such a difficult question, and yet Catriona couldn’t help the wave of panic that came over her when she delved into the depth of what she felt for him. Because there should be no depth. Her feelings for Joseph should have been as shallow as a puddle.
“I think he likes you,” Dorothea went on, turning her attention back to Nina. “He talks about you a lot.”
“Does he?”
Dorothea nodded. “To Mr. Macdonald. I heard them mention you twice.”
“Were you eavesdropping on their conversation, Dorothea?” Catriona asked. “That is not proper for a young woman to do.” Though she supposed she couldn’t be mad that Dorothea had overheard that tidbit of information.
