Page 41 of Stolen By the Duke of Ice
“I am afraid that our late arrival has disrupted the castle’s routine.”
“Not at all, Your Grace,” Mrs. Baker said, smiling. “We have been awaiting your arrival with much joy.”
After a flight of stairs and many turns in softly lit corridors, they finally reached her chambers. Mrs. Baker opened the door.
“’Tis a sight, M’Lady—I mean Your Grace—you must see it!” Biddy whispered to her excitedly.
“Here we are, Your Grace.”
Dahlia stepped in and gasped.
“It is wonderful, Mrs. Baker!”
The mistress’ chambers, with walls papered with hues of green, gold, and cream, was at once both feminine and elegant. The four-poster bed with its canopy stood across a beautifully made fireplace. Various furnishings of polished wood and upholstery were scattered about the room. Landscape paintings and flowers arranged in vases gave the room a softer touch.
Dahliah moved to a vase and touched the petals.
“There is a hothouse in the estate?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Mrs. Baker said. “The late duchess, had it built some twenty years ago. It has been maintained by Joshua, the head gardener.”
Dahlia thought she heard sadness in Mrs. Baker’s voice, but she could not be sure.
“I would love to see it soon, if that is acceptable.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Mrs. Baker’s face lit up. “I will inform Joshua that you wish to see it.”
The rest of her chambers were shown to her. The door to the right was her dressing room. To the left was her sitting room which adjoined with the master’s chambers.
At this, Dahlia fought a blush. She was suddenly nervous. Unsure of what exactly Peter had in mind for their wedding night, she proceeded as if it were any ordinary night.
Any ordinary night for a bride in a dark castle with a duke of ice.
Biddy drew her a bath, the warmth of the water alleviating aches that she did not know she had, the scent of the soap relaxing her nerves.
Food was brought up to her chambers, answering her unvoiced question of whether Peter would be dining with her.
Dahlia ate sparingly; indeed, she could not eat much with the thoughts swirling in her mind. She stood up and entered her bedroom. She walked to the window and looked at the nighttime view. A vast forest spread before her, white with its blanket of snow. There was still no moon, but somehow, the snow made everything brighter.
Dahlia traced the cold windowpane with her finger. Would he come to her tonight? He had not said so, and yet, everyone knew what was expected of a wedding night.
Well, I have a vague idea of what happens.
Your husband will lie in bed with you and kiss you, and it will be nice.Those were her mother’s words. And Celine’s:Trust your husband.
From those two accounts, it must not be altogether too bad. But even with that, she could not quiet her mind.
Will he come?
Perhaps that was her primary worry.
“Will that be all, M’Lady—Your Grace!” Biddy sputtered. “Forgive me, M’Lady—Your Grace! It will take some getting used to.”
Dahlia laughed, glad to have Biddy with her in this new place.
“Never mind that, Biddy.” She held her hands near the fire. “Are your new accommodations sufficient?”
“Oh, very much, M’Lady—Your Grace.” Biddy fairly bounced in place. “As the mistress’ lady’s maid, I have a room all to myself! No Alice to share it with!”
