Chapter 35 - Dahlia
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE- DAHLIA
The following morning, Dahlia rode in an open curricle through the park. Lord Pearson held the reins tightly in one gloved hand, controlling the horses in a way that only a truly experienced horseman could manage. Mara was propped on the back bench facing rear, along with a footman.
It was perhaps a bit of an awkward arrangement, as only a thin margin of woodwork, retracted canvas, and upholstery separated Dahlia and Lord Pearson from their servants. But then again, that was completely the point—that they shouldn't be alone.
The memory of a moonlit garden flashed in Dahlia's mind. She shook it away. She shouldn’t be thinking of that. She shouldn’t be thinking of William at all. After how she’d spoken to him yesterday in the café, she doubted she’d ever see him again. Her stomach clenched at the thought.
"Are you going to visit your niece soon?" Lord Pearson said.
Dahlia nodded. "As soon as the Season is over, I would like to go spend several weeks in Devon. Adelaide writes that she has grown so much, and I long to see her again."
"Selfishly, I’m glad you are here." He gave a kind smile.
Dahlia returned it, though she couldn't help but notice there was no corresponding feeling within her.
After just a couple weeks of accepting visitors in her parlor, the current frontrunners were Lord Pearson, Lord Sidney, and Lord Waltham.
All of the men were wealthy, titled peers, with a direct line of inheritance coming their way.
All had excellent histories in business and estate management.
They also visited regularly, bringing appropriate tokens of affection.
It was only at night when she was alone that Dahlia admitted to herself that none of the men made her laugh, that none of them had come close to touching her heart.
Despite her best efforts to pretend otherwise, she missed William.
She increased the brightness of her smile to chase such thoughts away.
A loud clip-clopping along the cobblestone path announced a rider approaching from their rear. Lord Pearson steered the curricle toward one side in order to let the person pass. A large, handsome chestnut that Dahlia instantly recognized pulled abreast.
William matched his pace to their carriage. "Good morning, Lord Pearson. Dahlia."
She nodded stiffly in his direction. She should be affronted—the nerve of this man to interrupt her second assignation within as many days. Instead, a strange emotion—half joy, half relief—had her fingertips spasming against the fine wool of her skirts.
"I won't bother you long," William said. His green eyes caught hers and held. "Dahlia, I wanted you to know that I intend on visiting you later today. You, not Rachel. I don’t want you to be surprised or caught off guard, so I think you should know what my intentions are."
She tilted her head in silent question. He nodded as if receiving the challenge.
"I feel like I’ve not been clear enough, so let me be clear now.
I intend on courting you and then marrying you, once you’re amenable.
So while I sincerely hope that you enjoy your ride through the park this morning, I also sincerely hope it will be the last where I’m not the one driving the carriage. "
With this shocking proclamation, William gave a curt nod to Lord Pearson, who looked vaguely alarmed, and then tipped his hat once more toward her.
"Dahlia," he said warmly, then turned his horse and wheeled it in the opposite direction.
Dahlia could do little more than blink. If William had meant to make the rest of her morning with Lord Pearson awkward, he could not have done a much better job.
Warmth flushed her cheeks and she couldn’t decide whether it was embarrassment or pleasure warring in her stomach.
A little bit of both, she thought, but mostly pleasure.
"That was highly irregular," Lord Pearson groused, "though his family is not known for their social graces."
Dahlia's head whipped towards Lord Pearson. "What do you mean?"
"His brother was—" he began.
"His brother is dead, and I hardly see how his behavior reflects on the rest of the family."
Good heavens, was she defending William to the man in the number one slot upon her gridlines? Apparently she was.
"Do you have any charge against the current Lord Cavendish or his sisters?" she asked curtly.
"There are many rumors about the sisters in the time Lord Cavendish was away,” he said darkly.
“I consider myself lucky to call the Preston ladies friends.” Dahlia shot him a scalding glance. "There are rumors about every lady in society."
"Not about you.”
She laughed mirthlessly. "Which just goes to show how accurate society gossip is."
Lord Pearson turned to her slowly. Dahlia realized what she'd just insinuated.
She lifted her shoulder. "Of course, I’ve never acted in an inappropriate manner. My only point was, that neither have they.”
"Of course," he muttered.
Still, the shadow of doubt was upon his face, and she knew that this might be the last she saw of Lord Pearson. Dahlia found she cared little. Her thoughts and emotions were nearly consumed with the visit she would receive later that day.