Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Her mother told her to be civil to the Duke. And what better way to be civil than to get to know Peter Thornscroft, Duke of Icedale? She smiled to herself. And for Peter to get to know her. And her family—the whole lot of them!
After she had changed, she bid her maid to prepare herself, for they were to go on a morning walk with the Duke. Biddy had hastened to prepare while Dahlia went into her mother’s chambers and proceeded to the desk.
“Where is that invitation?” she muttered as she searched the stack of invitations on her mother’s desk. “Aha! Here it is!”
Dahlia knew that her family—grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins—all of them, were aware of her recent affairs.
Indeed, the hour was never considered too late for accepting callers when your news was that of your daughter’s betrothal.
She had sat with her relations while everyone talked of it.
And tomorrow night promised to be a repeat, even grander perhaps, for it was her aunt’s birthday dinner.
The Duke shall enjoy this! Dahlia’s lips curved into a gleeful—and not entirely friendly—smile.
She snickered again at the thought of Peter in the midst of her extended family. She held the invitation daintily between her gloved fingers and went to meet him.
It was true that this was not how she had planned to get married, but, as had been repeatedly said to her, there was no other way. If that be it, then she would make the most out of her situation, and she would have a bit of fun. She checked her appearance on her mother’s vanity mirror.
“As Celine and Helena told me, I need to find happiness—or laughter—wherever I can.”
Climbing down the stairs, she saw that Peter had donned his hat and coat and stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for her and looking cold and impeccable. Biddy stood quietly by the front door.
“I do hope I have not kept you waiting too long, Your Grace.”
“Indeed not, Lady Dahlia.” He proffered his arm, and Dahlia rested her hand on it.
They stepped out into the November morning, Biddy walked behind them a few steps away.
“Where shall we head to?” Dahlia glanced at Peter.
“The park is the best choice. It isn’t the fashionable hour but—”
“Therein lies the appeal?”
“Precisely, I am beginning to think that we can agree on a few things.”
Peter was right, Dahlia thought begrudgingly, the crisp air was conducive to a morning stroll. He was right as well about the number of morning strollers; there were hardly any. Even passing carriages were scarce. She found the air invigorating and the lack of noise most pleasant.
“I do believe you have changed my mind about early morning strolls, Your Grace.”
“Call me Peter. We are betrothed, after all, and shall be married in five days’ time.”
“Five days?” Caught completely off guard, Dahlia stopped walking and dropped her hand from his arm. “But that is so soon!”
“I have spoken to your father, and he has agreed that it is better to have it done with as soon as possible.”
Have it done with. Of course. That is practical. And cold. He is indeed the Duke of Ice.
Dahlia could feel panic slowly trickling in her chest, erasing the pleasant feelings she enjoyed mere moments ago. Her whole life would change in five short days. Five days.
“And what about my trousseau? I have not even given it a thought yet.”
“The Marquess assured me that the Marchioness is more than capable of completing your wedding trousseau well before then.”
“Did he?”
Dahlia felt no need to mention that her wedding trousseau had been mostly complete since she had taken the search for the one seriously.
“I shall take your silence as an approval of the plans.”
“Do you need it—my approval?” Dahlia said in an irritated voice that she could no longer conceal.
“Your father has given his, but I should like to have yours just the same.”
Dahlia blinked, somewhat surprised. She was not sure how to respond.
Is he actually showing some consideration towards my feelings?
She studied his face. He was even more handsome during the day. She realized that she had not actually seen him in daylight before. Not liking where her thoughts were leading her, she blinked fast to realign herself.
“I… I am sure my father knows best.”
“But?”
“There is no but, Your Grace, as you—”
“Peter.”
“Peter,” she sniffed. “I suppose five-and-twenty years’ worth of possessions can be packed in five days. And as you said, this is the only way.”
“I am glad you agree.” He took her hand and placed it on his arm again, and they resumed their walk.
Dahlia bit her lips to prevent words that she really wanted to say from coming out of her mouth. She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath.
You can do this! You can do this!
“Your Grace—”
“Peter.”
“Peter, I assume the call—this walk—is part of the…” She barely prevented herself from saying the farce; instead she said, “… show that is our engagement?”
“It is our engagement.”
“I appreciate your efforts. Therefore, you must allow me to reciprocate.”
Peter’s eyebrows raised. She handed him the invitation she held.
“Lady Susan Adison, my aunt, is celebrating her fifty-second birthday with a dinner party tomorrow night. You must come.”
Looking at the invitation, Peter frowned.
“I would be glad to attend, but I have not been formally invited.”
Oh no, you shall not escape this!
“What are formalities when you are to be family?” Dahlia smiled sweetly at him. “I shall send word to my aunt of the addition to her guestlist; she will be glad to hear the news of your acceptance.”
Dahlia saw his lips thin and fought back a giggle. She felt glee when she noted some displeasure in his countenance.
“I look forward to it, My Lady.”
“Dahlia,” she beamed at him.
“Dahlia,” he replied with, she thought, obvious suspicion.
They continued their walk in relative silence. Occasionally, one of them would speak about an establishment they passed or make mundane comments about the weather. When they reached Hyde Park, they stopped and looked at their surroundings. Peter considered the direction they would walk.
“We shall traverse the walk along Ladies’ Mile,” he said, already moving towards the area.
“Let us head to the Serpentine instead!”
Peter turned fully towards her.
“Surely you jest.”
“And surely you realize what a cliché it is to suggest the walk in Ladies’ Mile to a lady.”
“Dahlia, it is still early, I am not sure you know what possible scenes are present in the Serpentine at this hour.”
Peter did not bother hiding the censure in his expression. He was certain that she suggested the Serpentine merely to annoy him.
“Actually, I do know, Peter. I am not a green girl fresh out of the school room.”
“I did not suggest anything of the sort.”
“And as it is almost the hour of ten; most duelists have probably left the area by now.”
He should have known that she would be aware of such things.
How could he have forgotten about the dueling scene in The Duke and the Legend of the Ruby?
It was not just the duelists that Peter thought of, but she was right—duelists would be gone by now as would women of ill repute. He swore under his breath.
“We shall head to Ladies’ Mile or keep to the green.”
“If that is what you prefer. You are, perhaps, not so young as you used to be; the gentle walk will be better for you.”
Dahlia turned and quickly walked away, not bothering to wait for him.
Her head was so high that she failed to notice a gap in the stone walk ahead of her.
Peter dove forward and was just behind her when she tripped on the gap and pitched forward.
He moved quickly and caught her just before she hit the ground.
Her green eyes were huge as he turned her around and steadied her. Mesmerized, Peter was unable to look at anything else.
One could become lost in those eyes.
Belatedly, he realized that his hands were still wrapped around her waist, but for the life of him, he could not move them away.
“Are you hurt?” Peter demanded when he found his voice.
Dahlia shook her head, unable to speak. Underneath his hands, he could feel her tremble a little.
“You are not well.”
Without warning, he lifted her up in his arms and carried her to a bench a short distance away. Was it his imagination, or did his hands tremble too when he let her go?
“Perhaps we should just sit?” Dahlia said breathlessly.
“We should have your maid check you first for possible injuries.” Peter had signaled to Biddy to go to her when Dahlia shook her head at her maid.
“Truly, I am all right, Peter.” She straightened her bonnet which had gone askew.
Studying her closely, Peter noted the flush on her cheeks, but aside from that, he could discern nothing that would suggest an injury.
Curious. Most ladies I know would welcome, even expect, immediate attention after such an incident. Well, if I know one thing, it is that Dahlia Hill is not most ladies.
He sat down next to her, for he needed steadying as well.
The night of the dinner party was a clear, chilly evening. Dahlia had dressed with care; indeed, Biddy had recreated the coiffure that had been ruined the night of the carriage hijacking.
“The Duke will be pleased, M’Lady!” Biddy, moving around Dahlia, surveyed her work. “Indeed, he will!”
“Really, Biddy, I do not dress for the Duke!”
“Oh, for certain, M’Lady.”
Dahlia did not appreciate the knowing look that was on Biddy’s face.
“But you must admit, M’Lady, that the Duke is a very handsome man.”
“Is he?”
“You, yourself described the Duke of Snowdon as darkly handsome in your novels. And since he is your inspiration for the character, there can be no denying that you think so too, M’Lady.”
“Hmm.”
“And the way he lifted you up as if you weighed like nothing!” Biddy clasped her hands, her eyes starry.
“Yes, well, that was very kind of him.”
“Oh, M’Lady, ’twas more than kind, ’twas heroic! That makes it twice now that he has saved you!”
“I am sure that I shall repay him by being an obedient wife.”