Page 58 of Stolen By the Duke of Ice
“I hope that the blueberry scones served shall be more than enough for you.”
“Why yes, I don’t think I shall run out of them today.” Dahlia let her pleasure show. To the butler she said, “Mr. Cooper, you must thank Cook for me, for I think she has finally noticed how much I like the blueberry scones.”
“It was Mrs. Baker who informed Cook, Your Grace, by the Duke’s instructions.”
“Oh.”
Dahlia was more than surprised to hear this information.
He notices what I eat? He pays that much attention?
“Then apparently it is to you whom I should express my gratitude, Your Grace.” Dahlia gave him a dazzling smile. “Thank you for making sure that I do not run out of blueberry scones.”
Mary and Claire grinned at her silliness.
“You are most welcome, Your Grace.”
“Dahlia, might I have a moment of your time?”
Dahlia looked up from her book. The sudden presence at the doorway disoriented her as Peter entered the library. For a moment, she panicked, thinking to hide the manuscript ofThe Duke and the Aspiring Detectivesthat was ordinarily tucked within the book she held, until she remembered that she had wisely decided to leave it. At the moment, it was in the safety of her own chambers, tucked under a stack of correspondence inside her desk drawer.
She calmed herself. Peter walked and stopped directly in front of her, his face serious.
Seeing his expression, she was a little confused. At breakfast, he had indeed acted with all amiability. Had she done something wrong? Her thoughts went back to the night before when she had left him in the sitting room. Dahlia had been flooded with a myriad of feelings.
Relief perhaps was the strongest one of them. That she no longer had to engage in a battle of wills with Peter was definitely a good thing. The other feelings, on the other hand, she preferred not to examine.
The night had ended in an entirely different note than she had expected. A softer note. An image of their joined hands flashed in her mind. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel his hand entwined with hers.
Friends. An offer of peace and of friendship. I am glad for it of course.
Looking at him now as he stood before her, she wondered what he was thinking. He spoke politely, if not too formally.
How different from last night.
But although it was a far cry from the more comfortable, more candid Peter of the night before, she was nonetheless glad she was not seeing the cold and distant Peter, the one who wore a mask of ice. She was determined to match him, and so, she would act polite as well.
“Good morning again, Peter.”
“Dahlia.” He made a slight bow.
“How can I help you? Are you looking for Mary or Claire?” she asked him. “They have just gone to fetch a book that they wanted to show me from Claire’s room. They will only take a moment.”
“No, I was seeking you, actually.”
“Oh. Then you have my full attention, Your Grace.” She marked the page of the book she had been reading and gently closed it.
Peter took the seat beside her and handed her a document. The piece of parchment was an official looking document.
What can this be?
She quickly glanced at the writing and knew before he even answered that it pertained to the house that was to be hers. The politeness and formality were explained. He was here to conduct business it seemed. The business of their marriage.
“My solicitors have written to me that you shall be able to take possession of the house on the twenty-fifth of December.”
On the day of Christmas!
“Your solicitors work very efficiently, I see.”
