It was impossible for Dot to withhold her tears any longer. She made not a whimper as they slid down her cheeks.
“Oh, Dot, dearest, dearest Dot. I am so sorry for Abby’s foolish words.”
“I have been the object of ridicule, have I not?”
Annie did not respond.
Her silence hurt more than confirmation. For Annie was too much like Forrester. She could not lie.
Now Dot wept in earnest as she angrily strode toward the Circus, nearly blinded by the onslaught of her own tears.
“I am so sorry. It was just that you were different. But once we came to know you, we both came to care deeply for you.”
Dot stopped, swiped away her tears, and faced Annie. “He knew about my dowry, did he not?”
Annie shrugged. “How am I to know what knowledge my brother possessed?”
Again, Annie could not tell an outright lie.
But she had unmistakably answered Dot’s question.
Chapter 16
Though his sisters seldom came into Appleton’s domain—the wood-paneled library at the rear of the townhouse’s ground floor—Annie awaited him in the dimly lit room. He could tell by the troubled look on her face that something was wrong.
He fleetingly wondered if the interview with Ellie’s friend had disturbed her. That a murderer was still loose in their city was enough to terrify any woman.
“What’s wrong?” He moved to her.
She sighed. “Abby’s returned, and so has her careless tongue. She’s offended Dot to the point I wouldn’t be surprised if she wishes to break your betrothal.”
He felt as if a cannonball had slammed into him. His first reaction was not disappointment over the withdrawal of the huge dowry he so desperately needed. It was the crushing intelligence that his youngest sister had hurt Dot.
Dot was perhaps the most genuinely caring person he’d ever known. There was little on earth he wouldn’t endure to spare her. His eyes narrowed to slits. “What did Abby say?”
Annie rolled her eyes. “What didn’t she say? And in so public a forum!”
His gut clinched. “Where?”
“In the absolute crush that was Glee Blankenship’s drawing room. I declare, there wasn’t an empty chair!”
He winced. He knew nothing disparaging about Glee or her sister, but the urge to spread gossip typically ran strong among the female gender. “What did The Pest say?” He dreaded hearing the truth.
“Allow me to say her allusion to your mistress was the most harmless intelligence she conveyed.”
He closed his eyes and cursed. “And the harmful?”
Annie shook her head sadly. “Oh, Timothy, it was ghastly! When Abby was introduced to Dot she all but said she had expected Dot to be ugly.”
He cursed again.
“Dot’s intelligent enough to know that any information about her had originated from either you or me.”
He nodded, a sick feeling slamming into him. “I may have spoken of Dot in the most unflattering terms when we first met her.” He drew a deep breath. “It’s so contrary to what I now feel, I’d almost forgotten. Is there more?”
“Abby immediately asked about Dot’s cats.”
He sighed. “So either you or I must have written the girls about Dot’s . . . peculiarities.”
She nodded. “It was abundantly obvious Dot was embarrassed. And hurt.”
“These are not insurmountable problems. Surely Dot realizes you and I have both grown to care very deeply for her.”
“There’s more.”
He waited a moment while his sister gathered her wits about her enough to continue, and when she spoke, there were tears in her eyes. “Dot was understandably upset and was the first to leave. I followed.” Annie swallowed hard. “She. . . she asked me if you had known about her fortune before you asked her to become your wife.”
This time he cursed aloud. “So she thinks I’m a blasted fortune hunter who ridicules her behind her back?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Neither spoke for several moments.
As angry as he was with his youngest sister, he was angrier with himself. Abby hadn’t lied. All her thoughtless comments had been instigated by him before he had come to know and to care for Dot. “I must go to her now.” He went to turn, but Annie caught his arm.
“I would advise against it. She was weeping. She’ll be in a vastly irritable mood and won’t feel in the least charitable toward you. Let her cry it out tonight, then go to her tomorrow. I know you care for her. Let her know your true feelings.”
“Very well.” He went to his desk and penned a note to Dot.
My Dearest Dot,
Expect me to call at ten in the morning.
Yours,
Forrester
Since he’d inherited the title he had signed all correspondence and documents with the simple surname Appleton, as was customary for men of rank. But with Dot, he could not think of using anything other than her own special name for him.
Calling him Forrester was just another example of the ways in which the two of them had grown close. He had come to feel an intimate connection with her.
Especially since kissing her the past two nights. The very memory created a deep yearning.
He called for a footman and requested he deliver the message to Miss Pankhurst.
* * *
Dot had told neither her father nor her maid the real reason she remained in her bedchamber all night and refused dinner. She merely said she wasn’t feeling well and did not wish to be disturbed. Which was true. She just neglected to inform them she suffered from a bruised heart more than a physical infirmity. When one was heartsick, though, one’s whole body suffered. She had lost her appetite. Her churning stomach did feel as if she were unwell. And she was too miserable to sleep.
As hurt and humiliated as she was, she derived a modicum of comfort from the note Forrester sent. Dearest. Never
