Page 19 of Stolen By the Duke of Ice
“A good morning to you, Lady Teresa, Lady Dahlia.”
“Good morning, Your Grace.” Teresa and Dahlia both curtsied in reply.
Peter watched as they went to the settee to sit down. Teresa inclined her head at her daughter, indicating that she should take the seat closest to the Duke. With a roll of her eyes, Dahlia did as she was bid. Peter pretended not to have noticed the exchange.
“I hope my sudden visit did not upset your plans this morning.” Peter kept his tone even.
“Not at all, Your Grace,” Teresa replied. “Dahlia had no prior engagements this morning.”
The Marchioness gave her daughter a look; again, Peter pretended not to notice.
“It is good of you to come and pay us a call, Your Grace, I hope your trip here was pleasant?” Dahlia gave her mother an answering look. This time, Peter could not help his reaction; he covered his laughter with a frown.
“It was an uneventful walk, thank you.”
“You walked?”
“I did, yes.” Peter raised an eyebrow. “Is that surprising? It isn’t very chilly out, and there are less people about at this time of day. The perfect time for a walk in my opinion.”
“I had not thought of you as a morning person either.”
Before Peter could reply, the Marquess of Bolton entered the room and bid them all a good morning.
“Teresa, my dear, are you quite ready?”
“Yes, quite, Andrew.” The Marchioness smiled at her husband and stood up to address their guest. “You must excuse us, Your Grace.”
“The Marchioness and I are off to meet with a textile merchant. You will relay our conversation to Dahlia?”
The Duke nodded, and the older couple took their leave. Silence filled the room after they had gone.
“They are off to choose fabrics for my mother’s chambers.” Dahlia’s words broke the silence. “My father insists that they need redecorating.”
“I see.” Peter could not fathom an appropriate reply.
“They like doing even such mundane things together.”
Peter nodded. Silence followed.
“It is your turn to say something, Your Grace.”
Peter almost laughed, but instead he frowned again.
“And you prefer not to accompany them? I should think the task calls for a feminine hand.”
“Why does that sound like a reprimand coming from you?” Dahlia frowned as well.
“My apologies,” Peter said stiffly. “It was not meant as one.”
Dahlia sighed. She fell back against the settee.
“No apology needed, Your Grace,” she hesitated. “My parents, they—they prefer each other’s company over anyone else’s, including my own.”
Peter took a moment to absorb this.
“And how do you spend your time when they are gone?”
“I have my own social circle, You Grace. And I can keep myself busy.” Dahlia sniffed.
