He forced himself to sit on the settee opposite her, not sure he could focus on their conversation if he could see Belinda. He was here for another warm, kind, caring, and comforting woman. One it had taken him too damn long to realize he loved. “I’ve come to talk to Dory, but I wished to hear from you if she has heard about her mother.”
“Is the word truly making it to every village?”
He grimaced, knowing how harsh the repercussions could be, but determined to stifle them as soon as possible. “Yes. Does she know?”
His sister narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that what you wish to talk to ‘Dory’ about? When did you start using her nickname? I do hope it is only between us.”
He ignored her second question. “Yes. No.” He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair, not comfortable explaining his true reason for the visit. It would involve admitting he’d been oblivious of his own feelings.
Rose’s eyes suddenly rounded. “It’s you!”
He jerked back. “What do you mean?”
Rose cleared her throat. “Nothing. I was just telling Dory that people had different habits when they were uncomfortable. I simply couldn’t remember who it was who…tapped their fingers.” She waved off her comment. “You do not need to be uncomfortable about talking to Dory about her mother. She’s always expected it.”
That was true, but she always worried about it. Unless Dearling had already come and reassured her of his intentions. He had to know. “Has Lord Dearling visited her?”
“As a matter of fact, he was just here yesterday. Dory was very much relieved after his visit. So unless you had something else you need to discuss with her—”
“I do.”
Rose eyed him shrewdly. “Will she want to talk to you?”
Again, he tapped his fingers, his concern growing. “I would like to. If she will see me. She was not pleased with me at Mother’s final ball.” His sudden unsureness felt awkward on his shoulders. Did Rose know what he’d done? She seemed very protective of Dory.
“No, I have heard she wasn’t.” His sister studied him a moment before she rose. “I suggest we see what she says. Mademoiselle Lissette and Dory are practicing how to throw a knife.”
“What?”
Rose’s eyes sparkled. “It’s part of our lessons. Lady Northwick has us all learn some self-defense techniques. From what I understand, the duchess was in need of them once when with the duke and Lord Mabry. Come, they’re in the back.”
He stood and followed his sister from the room, glancing one last time at Belinda.
Rose brought him down a corridor that ended in a large arch into what could only have once been a ballroom, but now was filled with bookcases upon bookcases of books, not just along the walls, but dividing the space into rooms. Two young women noticed them and followed. They looked to be Lady Georgina and Lady Eleanor, if he wasn’t mistaken.
He lengthened his stride to walk next to his sister. “Where are the duke and duchess?”
“Oh, they are about. I believe the duke is instructing the gardener on where to place birdhouses. The duchess said she needed to finish a book so she could meet with Sophie to discuss it this afternoon. Later, I will have a class on philosophy withDory and tomorrow is my first science class with the duke.” Rose halted as they stepped out onto the terrace. “Brother, I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to be here.”
His sister’s smile was as bright as the sun. He also noticed her skin had darkened from being out in said sun and there was a liveliness in her step he hadn’t noticed before. “You really enjoy this school?”
“I do. I wish I could stay forever, or at least through my second year.” She winked, something he’d never seen her do. “Maybe you could help me persuade Mother if I don’t have an offer next year?”
His heart filled that she had found something exciting to focus upon. “I give you my word I will do whatever I can.”
She grabbed on to his arm and squeezed. “I always thought you the best sibling a lady could have.”
At that, he chuckled. “I don’t recall that exact phrase the morning you woke with a frog in your bed.”
She laughed, a full, hearty laugh, not the gentle ladylike laugh she used at home. It was as if in just a month’s time, she had accepted who she was, and he couldn’t be more pleased for her.
“There they are.” She pointed to the lawn with a pair of targets set up. “Lissette is very patient with Dory.”
Two women stood facing the targets, one with midnight-black hair and Dory, with the sun catching the red strands in her mahogany hair. Neither woman wore a bonnet, no doubt their skin darkening like his sister’s.
He and Rose strode toward them.
The Frenchwoman explained something then eyed the target and let her knife fly. It hit dead center. Despite the warmth of the day, he felt a chill at such precision. Dory lifted her knife, eyed the target, and let it fly, its handle hitting the top of the targetand bouncing into the grass. Both ladies celebrated as if it were well done.
