Page 28 of Stolen By the Duke of Ice
“Grandmama.”
As they embraced each other, Peter could easily imagine what the Dowager Marchioness must have looked like when she was younger. As he could now see what Dahlia must look like when she grew older.
“You have much to tell me, my dear.”
“I know.” Dahliah’s face fell a little. “Are you very angry with me?”
“My love, if all that has secured you your duke, then why should I be angry?” the older woman said with a twinkle in her eye.
Dahlia covered her mouth and looked swiftly at Peter, who stood looking at the ceiling. She felt her face heat.
“Grandmama!”
“Still so easy to rile, Dahlia!” She cupped her granddaughter’s cheeks affectionately. “You must mind your color. Take it from me.”
Another chuckle then she whispered something in her granddaughter’s ear to which Dahlia nodded. Finally looking at Peter, her expression changed. It adapted that of the matriarch. Peter felt himself straighten to his full height.
“Introductions please, Dahlia.”
“Your Grace, may I present my grandmother, Lady Wilhelmina Hill, the Dowager Marchioness of Bolton.” She turned to Peter and continued, “Grandmama, may I present His Grace, Peter Thorsncroft, the Duke of Icedale.”
The Dowager Marchioness inclined her head while the Duke gave a formal bow.
“Your Grace bows properly at least. None of those foppish flutters.”
“Thank you, My Lady.”
“And if the rest of my family and the gossip columns are to be believed, you will soon become my grandson?”
“That is correct, My Lady.”
“Hmm.” She gave him her hand, and he kissed it in return.
Everyone resumed their transfer to the dining room. Once again, Peter took Dahlia’s hand and led her inside. He noticed that the host and hostess did not enter first, neither were they followed by the Marquess and the Marchioness, being the highest in rank among the guests. Apparently, hierarchy was not followed in their entrance to the dining room which, in truth, he preferred to the formality of the usual dinner party etiquette.
When they reached the tables, he started to look for his place card. He was confused by what he saw or rather, by what he did not see. He turned to Dahlia.
“There are no place cards.”
She was already standing by a dining chair, a footman in the act of pulling it out for her.
“Oh, yes, I had quite forgotten to tell you. We always dine informally; anybody can sit anywhere. Well, except at the children’s table, that is.”
Across the large dining room, a set of smaller tables and chairs were set up. Seated on them were children of varying age. The youngest seeming to be three, the eldest twelve. A good number of governesses and nurses sat with them.
“Astonishing.” Peter could not help but stare. “And where do the adolescents sit?”
“With the adults.” She drew his attention to the end of the third dining table where the youths sat next to each other.
“Astonishing,” he said again. “And where shall I sit?”
“Why, wherever you prefer, Your Grace.”
“I can sit next to you?”
“If you wish it.”
Did he wish it?Don’t be a fool!he thought to himself. He nodded and was pleased to see Dahlia smile.
