Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Dorian's father had gone to great lengths to impress certain morals and values upon his son. Dorian was more quick to anger than his even-tempered father. He was far more likely to speak impulsively in the heat of the moment than his sire—a habit that had not once served him well. His father was a firm believer in taking a minute to settle one's nerves before handling a situation.

It was what Dorian ought to do.

It would be far better for him to soothe himself before confronting his sister about the information that had just been given to him. Yet, with the way Dolores' mind worked, if he did not catch her off guard, she would have already devised a way to spin things to her benefit. She would twist and turn the situation into what she wished for it to be as opposed to the truth.

Mother had retreated to her rooms already, exhausted from the evening's conversation. She could not seem to keep from her naps for more than a few hours at a time. Paired with the rich food, she was likely exhausted. Dorian made a mental note to check in with her later, when things had calmed down somewhat. He was thankful she would not be present for this conversation he was about to have.

"I do not know what I could have possibly said to have offended him so," Lady Agatha said, tears warbling her voice.

From where Dorian stood at the top of the stairs, he could see her dabbing at the corners of her eyes with an embroidered yellow and pink handkerchief. Dolores trailed dutifully after her, uttering platitudes and baseless excuses in an attempt to save face.

After all, that was what all of this boiled down to—her reputation and the way she liked to appear to those around her. He had little to do with any of it. As it was, he was merely an obstacle in her way.

"I am sure this is all just a misunderstanding. I will write to you as soon as I have everything all sorted out. Never you worry about that," Dolores assured her friend, walking out of the front door with her.

She was gone only a handful of moments before she stormed back into the foyer. The servants drew the doors closed behind her but she was already bellowing.

"Dorian!" she screamed, unaware that he was only just at the top of the stairs, waiting to speak with her as well. "You miserable bastard, where are you!"

"Now, is that any way to talk to your brother?" Dorian could not stop his lip from twitching. His voice was flat and poised on the tip of his tongue. He channeled all of his rage into the way he held the bannister, white-knuckled and bitter as he glared at her.

He wanted her to feel his wrath. He wanted her to see how much she had wounded him. But of course, all she would see was that she was displeased as a result of his direct actions.

"Some brother you are!" Dolores snarled from the foot of the stairs. "Can you truly not maintain a civil tongue in your head for the span of a single evening? What did you do to my poor Lady Agatha?"

"You automatically presume me to be the villain?"

"What else am I supposed to think? My dear friend leaves my home in tears and I have no explanation to go off of," Dolores shouted accusingly.

"Of course, dearest sister, I should have been more welcome to her shockingly inappropriate advances. I suppose it must be quite the blow to your ego that your plan has not worked. I am sure you thought tonight would be your crowning glory."

"What are you talking about?" Dolores placed her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes at his comments. Of course she would dismiss him; he should have expected nothing less.

Dorian's hand slid slowly over the bannister as he moved to the stairs. With each step down those curved steps, he felt as if his hold on his temper was growing more and more precarious. "Your plan with Lady Agatha might have worked, perhaps, had you known your target in the slightest."

"Speak plainly, brother. I have no idea what it is that you are whining about this time." Dolores huffed, feigning irritation and boredom. "I am very cross with you! I think you would have a much better time begging for my forgiveness right about now. A hint of groveling. You honestly are the most pathetic excuse for a man that I have ever seen! I am going to have to do so much work to repair the mess you have done to her ego."

"Your friend revealed your hand, sister. She told me all about your coaching and the stories you have told her."

Dolores laughed humorlessly. "Is that what you are whining about? Very well, I shall not deny it. You must be the only man in the ton who would complain about a perfectly eligible woman throwing herself at you! I basically had her gift-wrapped for you!"

"And I would wish that, why?" Dorian reached the landing, but he did not come any closer to Dolores. "And so if you admit to that, perhaps you would prefer to admit to the other transgressions as well?"

"This is beneath me. I do not have to explain myself to you. You are unfit for this position, and you are not nearly man enough to claim the earldom! Everything I have done for you, all of the effort I have put into your return, and you whine. You ungrateful, out of touch—"

"Enough! You have no permission to meddle in my affairs, Dolores! You overstep your bounds!"

"And then what?" Dolores snapped. "If I did not have the courage both you and father lacked in order to accomplish what needs to be done, then where would our family be? Do you truly think we would have been half as well established as we are now?"

Dorian was furious, he could hardly see straight.

"For years , Father attempted to mold and shape you into the man he needed to replace him! He tried over and over again, but you were so distracted, so taken with that damnable trollop that you were blind to your responsibilities! I am the only reason you had the luxury of playing those games you indulged in!

I allowed you to have those distractions and live those years with your head in the clouds, but you need to return to the ground, Dorian! Take a damned wife and let me handle everything else—it will be best for both of us that way." Dolores raised her voice until she was nearly shouting at him to get her point across.

Perhaps she felt that if she continued to enrage him, he would surrender instead of turning this into an outright battle.

It was how things usually went, he would admit that to himself. But not this time.

"You always had too much of our mother in you," Dolores pressed on, likely thinking that she was coming in for the kill. She was a predator circling her prey—at least in her own mind. "Soft, gentle, and feminine. Without my cunning, without my guidance both in public and in secret, you would have been ruined a long time ago."

Dorian stepped closer, only inches from her face. Vitriol was ready to spew from his tongue. Whatever he said next would not be something that he could take back. Reprimands for daring to speak about their mother in that way, for the things that Agatha had hinted about Claire… all of the rage he was building. He could not allow himself to say the words he was thinking lest he regret it come morning.

"That's what I thought." Dolores sneered, looking down on him despite their height difference. "Perhaps I am finally starting to get through to you."

She walked with an exaggerated swagger in her steps toward the long hallway to her rooms.

"I have taken the liberty of agreeing to attend the public garden party in two days' time as well. I do trust that you will be better behaved then. I have great plans for you—and you will settle on a suitable bride at the garden party, Dorian, or I will choose one on your behalf."

The only reason he allowed her words to slide was due to the unfathomable rage building in his gut. He was practically trembling with irritation over the whole matter.

He had no choice but to let her walk away lest his temper get the better of him.

Dorian's mind was spinning. He could not stop replaying the conversation he had had with Lady Agatha over and over again in his head. He could not stop thinking about Dolores and her overreaching ambition. What had she meant, both public and in secret? There was absolutely nothing that she could have done to help him in private. He knew that beyond the shadow of a doubt.

He started to head to his rooms, but he knew sleep would elude him. Instead, he veered down the servants' corridor and headed toward the stables. He shed the top layers of his formal clothes until he was only in his white linen shirt and his trousers and boots. He wanted to feel the cold night air on his skin. He needed it.

There was too much energy pent up inside of his body.

He could not stop moving. Most of the household was finishing up their evening tasks and he would not interrupt that process. He did not wish to bother summoning the stable boy to fetch his saddle when he was perfectly capable of doing so himself.

If Dolores thought she was going to convince him to resume his travels in order to gift her with free rein of the earldom, she was sorely mistaken.

Dorian blanketed and saddled his beloved horse, and wasted no more time than that before walking her out of the stables and into the cool night air. Perhaps she sensed his need to move, for she started to trot and canter the moment they were on the open grounds. He urged her forward, coaxing her faster as he leaned low, letting the wind whip over him as they covered the ground at high speeds.

Perhaps if he could ride fast enough, he could outrun his persistent and intrusive thoughts. But he doubted it.