Chapter 31 - Dahlia
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE- DAHLIA
Dahlia stared at her reflection and held two different earrings up to her face in turn. She expected Lord Pearson to visit again today, and she firmly told herself it was he whose approval she coveted, that it was him she sought to impress with her careful preparation.
After all, on paper, Lord Philip Pearson was everything she wanted.
He was tall, but not awkwardly so, pleasant in his frame and dress.
He came from an excellent family, whose estate had large holdings in the north of the country.
They were invested in sturdy things, such as wool and wheat, and by all accounts, Lord Pearson was much like his father before him—a prudent investor, not subject to the whims of speculation the same way some young men were.
He had called twice, precisely two days apart, bringing a tasteful yet expensive floral arrangement each time. Then he’d made pleasant inquiries of Dahlia, of her family, and hinted ever so delicately that he was interested in courting her. In short, so far, it had been a flawless beginning.
If it hadn’t been for William, things might have been very near to perfect.
William.
He was all she’d been able to think of the past day. Who was she kidding? He’d occupied her thoughts most of the past weeks, and that was even before he’d caught Dahlia alone in the hallway and apologized. Before he’d professed his love and mentioned marriage.
She sighed. Her mind felt as jiggly as one of cook’s massive custards. She could barely focus well enough to choose a pair of earrings.
Dahlia wished she had a transcription of the conversation. So much had been said, on both sides. She couldn’t remember the entirety of it all at once. Instead, snippets winged at her from nowhere at odd moments, their landing as disruptive as if real pigeons were alighting upon her head.
Last night she’d been washing her hair and froze when she thought of him. She’d stared into the fire and remembered the sentences she wouldn’t—couldn’t—forget:
I came here today to tell you I'm sorry.
To tell you that I love you.
To tell you that I want to marry you, if you'll have me.
Any one of the three statements would have overwhelmed her on their own. Together they were a blaring orchestra—she could barely comprehend their meaning at the time, let alone her true reaction to them. Coupled with the heady feel of his strong hands warming her waist, she’d been utterly lost.
Last night she’d been lost again with the memory of it; she hadn’t come back to her senses until bubbles slid into her eyes.
Dahlia knew herself well enough to know that her harsh words had partly been born of anger—not at William, but at herself. For when he’d apologized so earnestly, when he said he loved her…her chest had clenched in response. Her foolish heart was far more ready to forgive than her logical mind was.
A knock sounded at the door and Rachel strode in without waiting for an invitation.
Dahlia sighed and lowered the earrings to her dressing table. “What if I hadn’t been dressed?”
“You’re always dressed by this time of day.” Rachel flopped stomach-first onto Dahlia’s bed, rumpling the bedcovers and knocking several embroidered pillows to the floor. “It’s nearly visiting hours.”
“And what of my door lock?”
Rachel shrugged and plucked at a tassel on the edge of the velvet throw.
Dahlia turned back to the mirror, made a split-second decision, and affixed the pearls to her ears. “Are you going down today?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for all the voles in the royal gardens.”
“Do you think there are a great number of voles in the royal gardens?”
“It’s hardly the amount that matters. It’s the bloodline that’s important, you see.”
Dahlia shook her head, refusing to be baited into continuing down the inane conversational path of royal voles.
That’s how it always was with Rachel—you’d be having a very rational, sensible conversation, and she’d twist it into something fantastical and asinine before you realized what she was about.
“Have you decided whether to forgive him yet?”
It was no use pretending she didn’t know who Rachel was talking about. Her sister was the conversational equivalent of a mud slide—she’d get where she was heading, no matter what stood in her way.
“No, I haven’t.”
“His apology seemed sincere enough.”
“You were listening?” Dahlia resisted the sudden urge to wing her hairbrush at her sister’s head.
“Of course. How else am I to advise him properly? It’s not as if you would tell me the truth of things afterward.”
“So you’re on his side then?”
“On the contrary, dear sister. I’m on your side. Far more than you seem to be at the moment.”
“That hardly makes sense.”
“You love him still, regardless of what little protective lies you’ve told yourself.”
Dahlia turned back to the mirror and pretended to adjust the pins in her hair.
Rachel continued, “It’s true. Otherwise you’d tell me I was wrong.”
“I'm not sure what I feel at the moment. That is the truth.”
“Fair enough. Besides, there’s no harm in making William earn your trust. Make him jump through hoops if you like—I’m utterly in support of it.” She sat up and tapped her chin. “In fact, I’m fairly certain he would jump through actual, literal hoops. Where could we get some, do you think?”
“I’m not sure it’s possible.”
“He’s quite limber for a man his size.”
Dahlia sighed. “For him to regain my trust, I mean. Everything I said to him was true.”
“So was his apology.”
Dahlia wrinkled her nose at her reflection.
Rachel was right. That was possibly the most infuriating thing about the entire interlude—Dahlia had no doubt as to William’s sincerity.
He wasn’t like other men of her acquaintance, who’d say things for the sole purpose of eliciting a desired response.
No—if William Isaac Preston, Baron Cavendish, said it, he wholeheartedly believed it.
Which meant that he was truly sorry, that he loved her, and that he wanted to marry her. It was a dastardly inconvenient thing, as she’d sworn she was over him completely. Or at least, that she was well on her way to recovery. If only William had realized how he felt a couple of weeks earlier!
Dahlia must have made some little noise of derision, for Rachel said, “It’s true. He’s brilliant when it comes to numbers and business, but an absolute dunce when it comes to you.”
“He never would have treated another lady as he treated me.”
“Also true.” She propped her chin upon her fist. “But that’s only because he’s held every other lady well past arm’s length. He should have realized what he felt for you, for that reason alone.”
Dahlia tried to smother the hope that welled within her. Had she been a fool for not forgiving him on the spot, accepting his proposal, and announcing it first to the other gentlemen who’d waited for her in the parlor? What if William took her at her word and never returned?
“That being said…” Rachel gave a feline smile. “I think it’s going to be very fun to watch him try to make amends.”
“You think he’ll come back?”
She’d tried to keep the hope from leaking through her voice. She’d failed.
“Oh, sweet sister…if you’ve learned nothing else about Lord Cavendish in the time you spent with him, you should know that the man is willing to work hard to get what he sets his mind to having. Right now, his mind is occupied with only one thing—you.”