Page 78 of Stolen By the Duke of Ice
“Really, Helena you?—”
“You have become friends.”
“Yes,” Dahlia said the word slowly.
Images of Peter and herself talking quietly in the firelight, of them playing the pianoforte together, of them walking in the snow path, played before her eyes.
I’m glad that you are here now.
So am I.
Chapter Sixteen
Peter, dressed in his riding clothes, was early for his schedule with his friend. Knowing Matteo, he knew that he would not be in any hurry. Matteo in Town was barely on time; Matteo in the country was always late.
Snow had stopped falling since yesterday; in its stead, a brisk wind had come to chill them. As a result of the ceasing of the snowfall, the friends had decided at breakfast that they would pursue their favorite of outdoor activity—riding.
Instead of waiting inside, Peter decided to give his horse a spin inside the paddock. He was on his way out when he observed Dahlia standing at the base of the grand staircase. She seemed to be absorbed by something. He watched as she shook her head and talked to herself.
“It could be better.”
Peter frowned; was she planning to rebuild the staircase?
Hands on her hips, she walked away. Now very curious, Peter followed her from a distance. She was going to the sitting room; he followed her. Once inside, she paused by the fireplace and looked pensively at it.
Peter finally approached her.
“Is something the matter, Dahlia?”
Surprised, Dahlia turned to him swiftly.
“Peter, I did not see you there.”
“You seem displeased about something.”
Dahlia smiled but glanced away, traces of a flush rising on her cheeks.
“A small thing really.”
When no other explanation came, Peter raised his brows at her.
Dahlia gestured to the mantle of the fireplace where branches of holly and laurel leaves were placed as decorations for the holidays.
“What do you think?”
Peter eyed the items and thought carefully.
They are green.
He felt that that was not an answer she would appreciate, so he wracked his brain.
“They are… missing some pinecones! Yes, that is it.”
Impressed, Dahlia smiled at him.
“You are correct, yes. But I think something else is missing as well.”
Peter tried to recall what other item might be missing, but for the life of him, he could not remember—or care—what made up Christmas decorations.
