Page 106 of Stolen By the Duke of Ice
Peter knew not how long he watched Dahlia. Nor, he realized, did he care if she noticed. She was to leave in the morning; consequences meant nothing now.
Her first Christmas and her last at Icedale Castle.
But we shall have many more Christmases even though she will not be there. Mary, Claire, and me. We have been doing it for years, and we shall continue to do so.
So why did it feel as if Dahlia would take Christmas with her and leave him nothing but the cold winter night?
Dahlia’s belongings were packed and ready to be transported back to London. Back to her parent’s house.
She could not help but feel that her return would be anticlimactic. Heaven help her, what would her family say?
Poor Dahlia, she has failed yet again.
What was she even to say to her parents? She would simply tell them the truth. That her marriage arrangement with Peter allowed her a house of her own in London, and that that is where she preferred to be, but that there had been a slight delay in the transfer, therefore requiring her to stay with them for a few days.
Surely, they are not still clinging to the hope that I shall make Peter fall in love with me.
A sennight back with her parents—she loved them, but Dahlia felt that she had finally outgrown them. Why would such an organized man not have handled this better? Her heart gave a heavy beat at the answer that came to mind.
Perhaps he delayed, perhaps he did not push through with the purchase but has not told me yet. Perhaps he wants me to stay.
“Stop it!” she admonished herself.
Stop with all these daydreams, stop with all this nonsense. It is time to move on.
She had said her goodbyes to Mary and Claire the night before. Indeed, she had planned it as such, for she preferred for them not to see her leave. Dahlia was not sure if she could handleseeing the twins vanish from her sight as the carriage took her away from the place she now thought of as home. And so, she had not told them that she was to leave before breakfast. They would wake up to find her gone.
She surveyed her rooms one more time, how they suited her. Thinking of her own rooms at her parents’ house, Dahlia wondered how they would ever seem enough now. Not their size, not their decorations, no, but the memories.
“Your Grace, the carriage is waiting. We must leave soon so as not to arrive too late in London,” Biddy said quietly.
Even Biddy sounds sorry to go. She will miss having her own room.
Despite herself, Dahlia smiled at that.
“I shall be down shortly, thank you, Biddy.”
She made one more round of her chambers, completing a circle which ended with her private sitting room.
That door.
She stared at the adjoining door to the master’s chambers.
Suddenly angry, she marched to it and turned the door handle, fully prepared to have it remained shut. When the door opened, Dahlia gasped and let go of the handle as if it burned her hand.
Oh, he’s not here. Thank goodness!
Dahlia could not help it. She peeked inside Peter’s private sitting room and saw that the door to his bedroom was ajar. The quiet of the room told her that there was no one about. From where she stood, she could see directly into his bedroom. She saw his desk and placed on top of it was her present for him.
When he had not opened it last night, Dahlia had not minded very much.
Perhaps he wants to open it in private. In truth, I hoped that he would not open it there, for I do not wish to know his reaction.
But seeing it now, the morning after Christmas, still unopened, stung her.
“Why am I even surprised?” she heaved a great sigh which threatened to turn into a sob.
“Goodbye, Peter. I love you.”
