Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Peter, dressed in his riding clothes, was early for his schedule with his friend. Knowing Matteo, he knew that he would not be in any hurry. Matteo in Town was barely on time; Matteo in the country was always late.
Snow had stopped falling since yesterday; in its stead, a brisk wind had come to chill them. As a result of the ceasing of the snowfall, the friends had decided at breakfast that they would pursue their favorite of outdoor activity—riding.
Instead of waiting inside, Peter decided to give his horse a spin inside the paddock. He was on his way out when he observed Dahlia standing at the base of the grand staircase. She seemed to be absorbed by something. He watched as she shook her head and talked to herself.
“It could be better.”
Peter frowned; was she planning to rebuild the staircase?
Hands on her hips, she walked away. Now very curious, Peter followed her from a distance. She was going to the sitting room; he followed her. Once inside, she paused by the fireplace and looked pensively at it.
Peter finally approached her.
“Is something the matter, Dahlia?”
Surprised, Dahlia turned to him swiftly.
“Peter, I did not see you there.”
“You seem displeased about something.”
Dahlia smiled but glanced away, traces of a flush rising on her cheeks.
“A small thing really.”
When no other explanation came, Peter raised his brows at her.
Dahlia gestured to the mantle of the fireplace where branches of holly and laurel leaves were placed as decorations for the holidays.
“What do you think?”
Peter eyed the items and thought carefully.
They are green.
He felt that that was not an answer she would appreciate, so he wracked his brain.
“They are… missing some pinecones! Yes, that is it.”
Impressed, Dahlia smiled at him.
“You are correct, yes. But I think something else is missing as well.”
Peter tried to recall what other item might be missing, but for the life of him, he could not remember—or care—what made up Christmas decorations.
“I am afraid I cannot determine what might be missing; are not ordinary Christmas decorations always like this?”
“Precisely!” she exclaimed. “I think the decorations are too few and lackluster, even the ones on the staircase.”
Peter scratched his head.
“I confess that I am confused; is there another way to decorate for the holidays? Holly and laurel have always been used. Is there a current fashion in London that has not reached us here?”
“No, nothing new, actually.”
“What then?”
“Just an idea of mine.”
Intrigued at what could be going on in that brain of hers, Peter inclined his head and inquired, “Very well, let us hear it if you please.”
“Don’t you think there could be more… color?” She turned fully to Peter, her eyes sparkling. My aunt was telling us of a wonderful custom in Germany where they cut down and brought trees indoor to be decorated for Christmas! What do you think if we do that?”
Peter though it a most insensible thing.
“A tree? A whole tree? Cut it down and drag it inside the castle to serve as a decoration?”
“Yes! Well, not a big tree. A young fir or spruce perhaps. Something that will fit here in the sitting room. My aunt says they were decorated with fruits like apples or nuts—we can use some of the flowers from the hothouse! Peter, can you imagine it?”
“If they are to be left there until Twelfth Night, will they not spoil? Such a waste, I should think.”
“Ah yes, well we can put pinecones instead of the fruits. As for the flowers, there is an abundance of them in the hothouse, we can easily replace the ones that need replacing. Instead of arranging them in vases, they can go on the tree.”
Peter was still unconvinced, indeed his countenance said so, but Dahlia was unfazed.
“Peter, it shall be lovely! Imagine all the color, not to mention the smell of the tree. It will seem like we are out of doors.”
Peter smiled at her excitement.
“Shall we cart in snow as well?”
She gave him a sharp look but very soon reverted to a smile.
“It shall be the center of the decorations here in the sitting room.”
She was so enthusiastic about it that Peter had not the heart to say no.
It was a small thing anyway, not that hard to do.
And despite the staff having finished with the decorations, he imagined that once Dahlia’s plans were made know to them, they would be happy to redecorate.
Well, so long as he was not called to do it then that would not be a problem.
“I do not see why not. Cut down and decorate trees to your heart’s content, Your Grace.”
“Oh, thank you, Peter!” Impulsively, she hugged him. Before Peter could react, she went rushing out of the room. “It will be wonderful; you shall see!” she called back to him as her form disappeared from behind the door.
Shaking his head, Peter left the sitting room as well but in a more sedate pace. Insensible, he thought. He could not believe how easily he had been led to agree to Dahlia’s scheme. A smile, that was all it took. It was a little worrisome for him. His smile turned into a frown.
The same frown was still on his face as he arrived at the paddock. Matteo was already there, talking to the stablemaster. His own horse was being walked inside the paddock.
“I was going to greet you a good morning, but I shall greet your frown instead.”
Peter gave him a look.
“What is it? What troubles you, Peter?”
“Nothing. I am perfectly fine, I assure you.”
“You do know that you are facing the wrong person if your intention is to deceive,” Matteo said drily. “Shall I mention the number of years that I have known you? You cannot fool me, Thornscroft.”
Peter remained silent; instead, he called for his horse. He heard Matteo chuckle behind him.
They rode their horses with moderate speed, keeping to the packed snow path that had been prepared for the pack carts. After an hour, and with the cold biting their cheeks and noses, the two friends agreed that that would be all the riding they would do on that day.
“Have some tea brought into my study please, Mr. Cooper,” Peter instructed the butler upon their return.
“Coffee for me, my good man,” Matteo said, thanking the butler.
“We have just this last stack of documents to go through.”
Peter sat behind his desk and was in the process of spreading out the sheets when Matteo stopped him.
“You will not tell me, but I have eyes, Peter.”
Peter ignored him.
“Very well, I shall talk, and you shall listen.”
Matteo took the seat in front of Peter’s desk; he laced his fingers behind his head and continued.
“It is obvious to me, old man, that you are quite taken with your wife.”
Peter grunted.
“I see how you look at her. And if I didn’t know any better, I would say that you actually flirt with her.”
Matteo could see that Peter was about to object to that, but he held his hand up before his friend could continue.
“I know what you mean; my friend, Peter, does not flirt.” Matteo tapped a finger against his chin. “So perhaps it is not flirting, perhaps he has skipped that—the superior being that he is—and is now just plainly besotted.” He made a flourishing gesture.
“How is that?”
“It continually amuses me how you think yourself so clever, Matteo.”
“I still do not hear you denying it.” Matteo’s grin covered his face.
“I am not besotted with Dahlia.”
“There it is.”
“There is what?”
“The denial.”
Peter stared darkly at his friend.
Their tea and coffee were brought in. Matteo leaned back against his seat and smiled his thanks at the servants. When they left, he picked up the conversation.
“You know, Peter, it is the most natural thing in the world to be taken with one’s wife. The most convenient as well for you are already married.”
Peter placed both hands on his desk and spoke with a serious—perhaps even sad—voice.
“You, of all people, should know why I can never let this be anything more than cordial.”
“Ah, Peter.”
Peter took a deep breath and arranged the documents on his desk.
“Shall we resume?”
Quiet now, Matteo nodded.
He was right in his decision, he knew. He could not fall the same way his father did; he couldn’t afford to.
There was no one to pick up after him if he did.
And there was too much at stake. There was only one way to proceed.
He must not deviate from his plan; he must stay away—far away from Dahlia.
Their guests would make that difficult at the moment though. It would be impossible to completely avoid her.
He considered if Matteo could fill in on some of his duties as a host to Lady Helena and her sister. Peter studied his friend, who had a peculiar look on his face that Peter did not like one bit. No, Matteo playing at domestics was unimaginable.
At the very least, perhaps asking him to extend his stay would be helpful. Matteo’s interactions with the ladies would definitely reduce the need for his own. Just until their guests were gone then it would only be a matter of another few days before… before Dahlia would leave.
Peter felt himself gather his willpower. It was for the best. An image of his miserable, wasted father pushed itself out from where Peter had buried it deep. Hardening himself, he buried it again.
“Matteo, are your plans fixed? Or can you afford to stay the week?”
Matteo laughed.
“Don’t think I do not know what you are about, Peter.”
Peter let out a sigh.
“If you can stay as long as Lady Helena and Lady Chastity are here, I would appreciate it.”
“Ah, yes. The best friend.”
“There is another one actually, the Duchess of Wylds, Celine Harken. She is in confinement therefore unable to be here as well.”
“That Lady Helena seems exhausted. And cross. I made a joke the other day about the London Season; she did not find it funny. Seems not to have experienced fun in quite some time.”
“Matteo.”
Matteo laughed at Peter’s warning tone.
“Will you relax, Duke? I am not about to corrupt the poor lady. Besides she is not my usual type.”
Peter’s lips formed a thin line.
“Yes, I shall stay.”