Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The nerve of that man.

The absolute and unmitigated gall that he had to come traipsing back to the house at whatever hour he pleased. Who knew what he had spent the night doing. Certainly not his duties. No, those would have been far better suited at home. If he had been a responsible older brother—nay, if he had been a better head of this family—then he would have stayed here and done what she told him to.

Anyone could have seen him in town. Dolores made a mental note to scour all of the tabloids and gossip postings as soon as possible to ensure her vexing brother had not tainted her reputation with his actions last night. It was as if he did not care about her at all! Did he not see the ambitions that she had worked so hard for?

After all of these years, did he truly not see that she knew better about these things than he did? If only he would shut that mouth of his and do what she asked, they would have been spared a whole lot of trouble! It was only when his fickle opinions got in the way that things went amuck. All of her careful plotting and planning, ruined because he did not follow the scripts laid out for him.

If only Dolores had been born a man, then none of this would have been an issue.

Had only their roles been reversed, he could have been free to socialize and galavant around as he pleased. Mother would have been happy enough to chaperone him if he had been born the younger daughter instead of herself.

Dolores would never understand why Father had insisted they stick to tradition. It would have been scandalous, to be certain, had she been the one to take over the head of family position, but she had more than earned it. She had given up her whole life for this family!

Time after time, she had refused to marry when it was asked of her! No matter what Father had tried to get her to do, or all of his lectures about her willfulness, she had never buckled. They had gone in one ear and out of the other because she knew what she was doing.

The old bastard had died still thinking he knew better than she did.

Dolores watched Dorian galloping across the grounds toward the stables, and her frown deepened. Her irritation grew by the moment. If he knew what he was doing, then he would have been down at the breakfast table reading the paper like a sensible man.

She did not think she would have ever been able to take orders from a man. Much less a man like him. It was a nonsensical, ridiculous notion. She had known for years that Dorian was highly impulsive. He always let his emotions get the better of him.

She could not prove it, but she knew that woman was involved in all of this. Again. As if she had not properly learned her lesson the first time around. She should have known better. If Dolores had to teach her a second time, she would certainly not be as benevolent in those teachings as she had been before.

If Dorian had actually gone through with marrying her, where would they be today? What position would Dolores have found herself in? No. He would not have carried the family in the way she did. She was positive of that. Nobody could run things like her. Why did her family refuse to see that? Her mother's constant lectures on overreaching ambition and the way it historically tended to ruin people—it was all garbage. It meant nothing to her.

Mother was just like every other silly woman of the ton , and she needed to stick to the very limited hobbies that she was actually good at.

This morning was supposed to have been about securing Dorian's path out of the estate. She had hoped more than anything that one of the easily molded, impressionable young girls would have caught his eye. It was not as if his tastes in women were very refined, anyway.

They should have worked harder. He ought to have been more polite in giving any of them a chance. All she needed was to find an empty-headed woman to marry Dorian and satisfy his manly urges. Then he would not feel such a need to step back in and run the estate. Dolores would be free to manipulate the earldom to whatever ends she desired. As it should be. She did not need any intellectual competition.

Dolores scoffed at that thought. As if such a thing truly existed.

Father had been in ailing health for the past decade, growing worse and worse with every year. It mattered not to her that Dorian had been in charge of all of the trade deals for their family and holdings across the globe—that was his duty. Surely he understood how much she had been helping their father in his absence.

She had been so very careful to make sure that, one by one, her father's duties ran through her. If she did not approve of something that her father wished, well, then there was no harm in changing his orders. It tended to work better that way, in her opinion. And her opinion was the only one that mattered.

Father had only caught her twice in intercepting his letters and reading his business correspondences. But by then, his health had deteriorated to the point that his temper inflamed his fevers and heart rate so badly he was forced onto bed rest.

Claire would have been a terrible match for Dorian. She would have only gotten in her way.

There was almost nothing that Dolores was not willing to do for the betterment of her family and their position in the ton . If that meddling witch got in the way again, she would have no issue terminating that threat as well.

As Dolores dropped her curtains back down over the window and turned toward her bedroom door, an annoying hot flare of guilt bubbled up inside of her. The rare emotion was strong enough that it gave her a physical pause. She lingered with her hand on her door frame as she waited for the lance of bitter resentment and rage to leave her. She swallowed the bile that rose in the back of her throat until she was certain she had iron control over her faculties once again.

Dolores refused to regret what she did. Even if Claire's heartbroken face still often haunted her dreams.

She doubted that even Dorian relived that moment of raw horror and pain in the same way she did. If he had, then perhaps he would respect her more. Everything she did was for him. Everything for their family and standing. He ought to thank her. The actions she had taken six years ago were only further proof of that.

Straightening her spine, Dolores held her head up high as she strolled down the immaculately decorated and cleaned hallway. She smoothed down her dress and adjusted the fit of her sleeves. She moved with purpose and a carefully controlled posture, just as she did in all things. Honestly, she was the portrait of self-control—she did not know why it was so hard for others in her life to simply see that obvious fact.

In the distance, she heard the back servants' door slam shut, echoing through the corridors of the main hall of their estate. She deviated her course so that she might confront her wayward brother and put him back on his planned path.