Page 24 of Stolen By the Duke of Ice
“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 foundthat 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.
