Page 22 of Stolen By the Duke of Ice
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 additionto 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 inThe 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?
