Page 45 of Stolen By the Duke of Ice
“What about your lessons?”
“In truth, we feel that we’ve outgrown the schoolroom already,” Mary stated in quite a mature voice. “We have dance lessons and riding lessons but not during winter for the latter.”
“Oh. You both do seem such mature ladies compared to me when I was your age.” Dahlia chuckled.
“We can go to the hothouse right after luncheon if you’d like, Dahlia,” Mary said, still trying to convince her. “We have no prior engagements either with our friends today.”
“Are you sure you are not needed anywhere else?”
“Quite sure. Come, let us go now.” Claire held out her hand.
“Now?” Dahlia chuckled.
When they left the breakfast room, they walked as a trio, arms linked, a twin on each side of her.
By midday, Dahlia had still seen neither hide nor hair of her husband. She sat alone in the sitting room, attending to her embroidery.
My husband. How strange that seems.
Not that she wanted to see him, for she was still vexed at him.
How dare he tease me!
Her anger getting the better of her, Dahlia yelped as she poked her finger accidentally.
At that moment, Mary and Claire entered the sitting room and greeted her. Dahlia quickly hid the slightly injured finger, not wanting them to fuss over her.
“Hello, ladies,” Dahlia greeted. “And how has your day been faring?”
She saw as Mary gave her sister an encouraging look. Claire, in turn, shook her head and returned Mary’s look.
What was this?Dahlia thought amused. Fortunately, she had vast experience in dealing with young ladies, thanks to her numerous cousins, and so, she waited patiently.
Finally, Mary stepped forward and addressed her.
“Dahlia…”
“Yes, Mary?”
Mary turned to Claire who urged her on with another look.
With a slight grimace, the young lady moved closer to Dahlia.
“Is it—is it true that you are Penelope Lovelace?”
Mary took a step back, as if expecting Dahlia’s anger at her impertinence. When Dahlia’s quiet but firmyescame, Mary and Claire gushed. They sat her down between them and barraged her with questions, excitement and something like envy in their eyes.
This was the last thing that Dahlia expected. Knowing how their brother loathed her novels, she had assumed that he would not tolerate them in his home. She had thought that Mary and Claire would reflect his sentiments or perhaps criticize her on her writing but certainly not this!
“We truly love your books!”
“We adore a good tale, and they’re so—adventurous!”
Dahlia felt warm inside, a gratified smile tugging at her lips. Here were readers who really appreciated her work. She had never had the chance to admit her real identity to anyone but her family and friends, and although some of them appreciated her work, they were not what one would call fans.
Mary and Claire spoke over one another in their excitement of their new discovery.
“When will the next book come out?”
