Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“Dahlia, for heaven’s sake, is there any truth in what the Duke said?” Celine demanded as she and Helena rushed into the Hill sitting room before Mr. Tipping could even announce them. Dahlia, who had been in the act of pouring tea, nearly dropped the pot in her surprise.
“Celine! Helena!”
“Her Grace, the Duchess of Wylds, and Lady Helena Ayles.” Mr. Tipping announced belatedly.
“Thank you, Mr. Tipping.”
The butler bowed and closed the door behind him. Not knowing what to do, Dahlia put the pot down and motioned to the settee opposite her seat.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Dahlia!” Celine’s lips were set in a straight line.
“Now, now, Celine. We agreed we would let Dahlia speak first.” Helena looked at Dahlia with patient eyes. “Could the Duke of Ice be telling the truth?”
Dahlia thought that she had prepared for this confrontation. She had even practiced possible answers in her mind.
Why no! That brute has made it all up for nefarious reasons of his own!
Of course not; it’s really just a big misunderstanding! It’s actually Biddy! I have just been helping her publish!
But in the end, she knew that she could not directly lie to her friends. Not saying anything was one thing—but a direct falsehood was entirely different. She took a deep breath.
“He was not lying. I am Penelope Lovelace.”
“Dahlia…” Helena whispered weakly. She sank on the settee.
“Why didn’t you tell us? How could you have kept this from us? And for so long!” Celine said urgently.
“Why didn’t you tell us, Dahlia?” Helena asked mirroring Celine’s expression.
“I wanted to tell you!” Dahlia stood up and wrung her hands. “But I was… I was embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed? Come now, Dahlia, we’ve known each other for so long. Surely, you knew that you could trust us with such an admission.” Celine looked at her with hurt in her eyes.
Dahlia was prepared for anger and accusations, but she was not prepared for the look of hurt on her friends faces. Sitting down again, she let out a small sob and covered her face.
“I’m sorry,” she cried, finally overwhelmed by her emotions. Her friends rushed to her as her sobs increased and wracked her shoulders.
“Oh, Dahlia…” Helena embraced her even as Celine took her hand, kissed it, and clasped it in both of hers. They stayed in that position until the peak of her emotions passed.
“I–I do not deserve your friendship,” Dalia whispered when her tears finally stopped.
“Let’s not be overdramatic, dearest,” Celine teased, trying to make her smile.
Dalia chuckled, but her expression turned serious again as she looked at her friends.
“In truth, I was afraid that you would judge me.”
“Judge y—” Helena silenced Celine with a look.
“All of us had always been so against marriage and courtship. We felt so strongly about it, and yet… and yet it was the very thing that I wrote about. To Penelope Lovelace, they were the most important things in the world! How could I explain that to you?” She held her palms up.
“You are my only friends, my only true friends. I was afraid. I was afraid that you would cease—that you would no longer wish to continue our friendship once you found out.”
“Dearest Dahlia,” Helena said. “And so, you have kept this to yourself all this time.”
Dahlia nodded silently. After a while, Celine sighed and spoke again.
“Well, what you said is indeed true,” Celine continued. “For the longest time, we did have that view of marriage and courtship, but look at me now. Am I not a married woman and happily so? Do you think I cannot relate to the emotions that you describe in your novels?”
Dahlia looked at Celine. She was the same person but, indeed, different as well. Love and happiness had given her a radiance from within and without.
“We are no longer those girls, Dahlia.” Celine brushed her fingers against Dahlia’s cheek. “We have practically grown up together. We loved you then, and we love you now for who you are—and apparently for what you are—an authoress!”
“You cannot be rid of us so easily, even after we discovered the revolting truth that you are a romantic at heart!” Helena kissed her cheek.
Dahlia sobbed again as she wrapped her arms around her friends.
“I’m so sorry I never told you. Goodness knows how much I wanted to tell you! It was such a big thing for me, and it gave me such feelings—joy and pride. I wanted to share those with you, but I was—well, you know the rest. I’m only sorry that you had to find out this way.”
“But how did the Duke of Ice find out?” Helena asked. “And is he really the Duke of Snowdon? He must be!” A hint of laughter was in Helena’s eyes.
“Would there be any good in denying it?” Dahlia said, laughing and wiping her eyes at the same time.
“He must have been very angry when he found out.” Helena covered her mouth at a laugh.
“He was livid!”
“But how did he figure it out?” Celine demanded.
“He saw Penelope Lovelace’s latest manuscript in the carriage when he escorted me to your house.”
Dahlia recounted the series of events that made up the past night, ending with the scene that the dinner party attendees witnessed.
“What is to happen now?” Helena gripped Dahlia’s arm. “Are you really to be married?”
Dahlia let out a long, heavy breath.
“Yes, he was here earlier today to speak to Papa. We are to be married. Even Mama said there is no other way. Well, she did suggest first that we all move to the colonies.”
They stayed silent for a moment until Celine suddenly spoke.
“You, the Duchess of Ice! I would never have thought!” she said laughing.
“Celine, it’s not funny,” Helena reprimanded her friend, hiding a laugh of her own.
“Come off it, Helena; you know it’s a little funny!”
“It is a little funny, I admit,” Dahlia said, and all three burst into giggles.
“But seriously, Dahlia, how do you feel about it? I mean, you had always planned not to marry, had you not?” Helena continued.
“It’s not so much that I did not plan to but more that I had no inclination to unless it was to the one.”
“Well, I must say that you have caught quite a man; the Duke is definitely one of the most eligible bachelors of the ton!” Celine cleared her throat. “And despite us making fun of him, he does have superior qualities which, I will venture to say, most ladies are well aware of.”
“We never would have guessed that you felt that way towards the Duke. The way he is described in your books! Now you shall be marrying the hero of your stories!” Helena added.
“But, indeed, it isn’t like that at all!”
“What do you mean?” Her friends asked at the same time.
“Peter Thornscroft is most definitely not the one!”
“The one?” Celine’s eyebrows raised in question.
Dahlia looked down, a little embarrassment still lingering but needing more for her friends to understand the contents of her heart, she proceeded, “The one—the love of my life.”
“I beg your pardon?” Celine blinked. “Have you been hiding a lover from us?”
Dahlia laughed.
“No, silly. I mean the idea of the love of my life. The one man who shall be my life’s companion.” She hugged herself at the thought. “The one man who will place me above all else, who is perfect for me in every way!”
Celine and Helena leaned forward, listening intently.
“The one man who shall listen to me when I need to be heard. Who will tell me about the world, about places that I have never been to—and then take me to see those places—”
“This sounds very much like the plot in The Duke and the White Ship,” Celine said, eyebrows still raised.
“—the man who will rescue me from danger—”
“Ah, did not the Duke…?” Helena shrugged at Celine’s look.
“—the man who proves that chivalry is not mere show, not just gallantry but actual commitment. He is the one. The love of my life.”
“The man who will offer you marriage?” Celine ventured.
Dahlia, coming out of her musings, realized what her friends were alluding to. She jerked her shoulders in contradiction.
“It isn’t like that at all with Peter.” Her countenance fell as she said the words. “Unfortunate circumstances have brought us together and left both of us with little choice in the matter. Ours is to be a marriage designed to pacify the ton, to save my reputation, and to maintain his.”
Tears appeared briefly in Dahlia’s eyes, only to disappear as she wiped them quickly away.
“We are to be married on paper only. I dare anyone to find anything romantic in that.”
“It cannot be as bad as that,” Helena said softly.
“I suppose it could be worse; I could be in love with him!”
Her friends looked at her, their expressions a mix of indecisiveness and disbelief.
“You needn’t fear!” Dahlia exclaimed. “He is the most obnoxious man I have ever met! How he infuriates me! He acts superior—well, one must admit that he is superior to most men—but to lord it over everyone! And he thinks he can just look at me with those eyes and that I will blindly agree to everything that he says! Infuriating man!”
Celine and Helena, still listening to their friend, shared a knowing look.
“And hear this, as a final touch, he has forbidden me to continue writing!”
Both her friends gasped at this. Dahlia, finally securing the reaction she wanted from them, continued, “My writing! The only real thing that is completely mine, and he has taken it away from me.”
“But that is absurd!” Celine’s hands fisted on her lap. “He cannot control you! And for him to expect you to give up your talent is plainly cruel!”
“And what a talent, indeed! Oh, Dahlia, you have such a gift, to be able to write about love is no mean task. Penelope Lovelace’s words made me feel… things! Oh, I cannot explain it, but surely you understand me,” Helena said, hands on her chest.
“I-I have never told either of you this, but it was actually Penelope Lovelace’s—your writing that led me to understand my own feelings towards Rhys. I ought to thank you. You gave me clarity to know my own heart’s desires. And so, thank you, Dahlia.” Celine wiped at the corner of her eyes.