Chapter 5 #2
Dahlia rolled her eyes. But she could not deny that the memory of his hands on her waist, of him carrying her in his arms, made her maidenly senses flutter. Indeed, she felt warm now just remembering the incident.
“The Duke will appreciate your looks tonight, M’Lady, I am sure of it.”
She looked at her reflection in the mirror again.
She was not a vain person; Dahlia knew that she was no great beauty.
She was pretty enough, she thought pragmatically, but her figure was too curvy for her liking.
She wrinkled her nose at the smattering of freckles there.
And with her curly, red hair and her coloring, high emotions did not become her which was unfortunate, for she was easily strung.
“What have you put on my eyes, Biddy? They look larger!”
Biddy beamed proudly.
“Not on your eyes, M’Lady, but on your eyelash line. ’Tis a dark pigment from a plant dye, and the beauties of the ton swear by it.”
“Well, I am no delicate English Rose, but you have made me quite pretty tonight, Biddy.”
“I beg your pardon; M’Lady has always been beautiful.”
“And you are the most loyal of lady’s maids, Biddy.” Dahlia laughed. “Now I must go and see if Mama and Papa are back. I have not seen them since they left after tea.”
“They have been back for almost two hours now. His Lordship’s valet and Her Ladyship’s maid were both summoned as soon as they arrived.”
“Oh, well, perhaps they knew I was already getting ready for the dinner party and did not wish to interrupt my preparations. That is well enough; I had so much to do anyway.”
“Yes, M’Lady.”
Dahlia turned to the mirror again.
“I am sure that all the family has now heard of my betrothal to the Duke of Icedale. It will be a long night.”
Peter was not sure that it was a good decision to agree to attend Lady Susan Adison’s birthday dinner.
First, he did not know his hostess. He had a passing acquaintance with her husband, Lord Marcus Adison, but that was it.
Socially, they had never mingled. And secondly, he had a nagging feeling that Dahlia was up to something.
But as it was, he now sat inside his carriage on the way to a dinner party with people he barely knew.
“You are the most confounding woman,” he muttered to himself.
He recalled yesterday’s walk. It had started much like a battle of wills, but it had ended pleasantly.
Sitting together on the bench, they had hardly spoken at first. As the minutes passed, he found that his first impression of her was correct; when she was not being difficult, she was interesting, witty, and intelligent.
“She certainly has more knowledge of the world than the average society miss,” he muttered again. “The Serpentine, indeed!”
Given the things she wrote in her novels, this was obvious. And wildly inappropriate.
“How can she know of such things? I cannot believe that her father would supply her the information.”
He refused as well to dwell on her near fall. He was the one to have caught her, and yet, why did he feel as if he had been the one falling?
He recalled her unexpected words as he had handed her inside her parent’s house. As he was taking his leave, he glimpsed a moment of vulnerability which had nearly undone him.
“It was an unexpectedly pleasant morning, Your Grace—Peter. Thank you for the company; I had not thought that I preferred not to be alone this morning.”
“Indeed, the pleasure was all mine, My Lady—Dahlia,” he corrected himself.
He was in the act of kissing her hand but had stopped himself at the last second.
Be careful, Peter.
He had rushed back to his own house after that, not admitting to himself that he had been unsettled by her.
“Be very careful, Peter.”
Now, as he travelled alone in his carriage, he reminded himself again that this was but a practical arrangement and that he meant to conduct it very much as he would his other business dealings.
That was the wisest course of action. He knew that—his brain knew that, but it apparently needed some reminding.
Peter saw that he had arrived as the carriage drew to a halt. It fell in line with the other carriages awaiting their turn to drop off their passengers at the main door of Adison House.
“Let’s get this over with.”
He scanned the crowd of people that were being welcomed by their host and hostess. So far, he could not see her.
Where is Dahlia?
“Icedale.”
Peter turned to see the Marquess and Marchioness of Bolton, together with Dahlia, approaching him.
“We have just arrived, dashed long lines with the carriages,” the marquess said.
Peter quickly bowed to the ladies, but his eyes stayed longer on the younger. She looked… radiant. Their eyes met briefly before shifting away.
“I was beginning to fear that I would have to present myself alone to our host and hostess.”
“Let us greet them; Susan, Andrew’s sister, will be glad to meet you, Your Grace,” the Marchioness said as she and her husband walked towards their hosts.
Peter offered his arm to Dahlia who took it with a small smile. They followed Dahlia’s parents and were soon being welcomed to the party.
“Icedale.” Marcus Adison bowed.
“Your Grace, it is a pleasure to meet you. Allow me to congratulate you on your betrothal to our niece!” Susan Adison curtsied.
“Thank you. And a very happy birthday to you, My Lady.” Peter bowed.
As more introductions and congratulations followed, Peter was starting to realize that, indeed, most of them were related in some way or form to Dahlia. An aunt, a cousin, a grandparent.
Are the guests all family members?
He turned to her, brows raised in question.
“Are there other guests?”
“You think the number of attendees is too small for a dinner party?” Dahlia raised her eyebrows as well. “There are at least fifty that I can see right now. Perhaps the others are in the other rooms.”
“What I meant was, are all the guests your relatives? Or are some of them friends? For, so far, I have been introduced only to relatives.”
Dahlia pointed at the lady currently talking to her mother.
“The Vicountess Burleton is my godmother, not a blood relation, but she is very much like family.”
“Any other?”
“My cousin’s godfather and his wife are here as well; I think that is it.”
“Do you mean to tell me that aside from those three, all of these people—all sixty or seventy of them—are all members of your family?”
The incredulous look on Peter’s face nearly made Dahlia laugh.
“Yes, this is mostly my family,” she looked straight at Peter, “on my father’s side.”
Peter could only blink at the information.
“How many members are there in your family, Your Grace?”
“In my immediate family, there are only three of us.”
“Like mine.”
“Yes, but mine is composed of just us siblings now.”
“Oh. My apologies, Your Grace, I had not meant to stir sad memories.”
“My mothers’ passing has been many years past now; my father’s was not so long after hers.”
Seven years.
He cleared his throat and focused on his hands.
“Now there is just Mary, Claire, and me.”
“Sisters, how lovely.”
Peter barely prevented the frown that marred his forehead when his thoughts went to his sisters lately.
“They are twins.”
“Oh! That must be wonderful.”
Before Peter could react, a group of elderly matrons descended upon them.
“Dahlia, my dear girl, it has finally happened!”
“Let’s see your young man!”
“A duke, are you?”
Peter groaned inwardly.