Page 27 of Stolen By the Duke of Ice
“I would not dream of going anywhere else, Your Grace.”
“Ah, the newly betrothed couple!”
They both turned to see a jolly, red-faced, middle-aged gentleman approaching them. By the looks of him, he was already inebriated despite the earliness of the night.
“Uncle Edward!” Dahlia said with another amused smile.
“Dahlia, my favorite niece!”
“You call all your nieces your favorite niece!”
“Ah, but tonight it is truly you, my dear!”
He turned to Peter and pointed with his wine glass, his expression comically fierce.
“You listen here, Duke, if you want your limbs to stay attached to your body, you must?—”
“Ah, there you are, Edward! Come, Andrew is looking for you; they want you in the card room. You know how much they need you.” The Marchioness smiled apologetically at the Duke as she directed her brother-in-law away from the couple.
Still grinning, Dahlia explained, “Uncle Edward is my father’s younger brother. He is a great favorite among the family. Unfortunately, he is almost always the first to become inebriated during family gatherings.
Despite himself, Peter was curious.
“The first? There will be more?”
“You are in London, my dear duke; of course, there will be more!”
My dear duke.Peter felt a tingle somewhere in his body. He cleared his throat.
“And does he regularly threaten mutilation to dinner guests?”
“Why no, Peter. That is reserved only for dukes.”
Again, despite himself, he smiled. Dahlia was different tonight. She felt…playful and mischievous. He could readily accept that she planned this with the intention of annoying him. He had to admire her scheming—but she underestimated him. He was out of his element, true, but he also found that he was entertained. And indeed, despite being threatened with bodily harm and plied with superstitious nonsense and family gossip, he found that he was not inclined to leave the party just yet.
“What a curious dynamic your family has,” he observed. “It seems like everyone is on quite affectionate terms with everyone else.”
His eyes roamed the room. They formed groups, small or big, and they all seemed to be in good spirits. People of all shapes and sizes socialized with each other. A baby was passed from one set of arms to another. One of the great aunts threatened a young gentleman to which he replied with a laugh and a kiss. And all of them were loud. His mind went suddenly to his own family. How small in number they were compared to Dahlia’s. And how…quiet. Especially after his mother… He gave himself a mental shake. Dahlia’s voice interrupted his reverie.
“Oh no, you mustn’t believe that; why it was just the previous week when two of my younger cousins were fighting over a suitor.” She motioned to a pair of ladies who looked no older than ten and seven.
“They seem to be on good terms now.”
“That is because they discovered that their shared suitor was courting a third lady. No not another cousin as I am sure you will ask. Their brothers,” this time she motioned to a group of gentlemen who all looked to be in their mid twenties, “taught the said suitor a lesson. The shared experience brought Lillian and Jocelyn closer, I think. Oh, but what a scene they caused during that dinner!” Dahlia chuckled.
The dinner bell sounded. Peter was escorting Dahlia into the dining room, when happy voices drew their attention.
“Grandmama!”
The Dowager Marchioness of Bolton, newly arrived, was being escorted by her grandsons. Almost at once, the family flocked to greet her.
“I shall present you to my grandmother when she has escaped from everyone,” Dahlia grinned.
“She is a tiny thing.” Peter observed. “Now I see whom you take after.”
“Her hair used to be red as well.” Her smile grew bigger as they approached her grandmother.
“Dahlia, my love.”
