Page 81 of Stolen By the Duke of Ice
Quiet now, Matteo nodded.
He was right in his decision, he knew. He could not fall the same way his father did; he couldn’t afford to. There was no one topick up after him if he did. And there was too much at stake. There was only one way to proceed. He must not deviate from his plan; he must stay away—far away from Dahlia.
Their guests would make that difficult at the moment though. It would be impossible to completely avoid her.
He considered if Matteo could fill in on some of his duties as a host to Lady Helena and her sister. Peter studied his friend, who had a peculiar look on his face that Peter did not like one bit. No, Matteo playing at domestics was unimaginable.
At the very least, perhaps asking him to extend his stay would be helpful. Matteo’s interactions with the ladies would definitely reduce the need for his own. Just until their guests were gone then it would only be a matter of another few days before… before Dahlia would leave.
Peter felt himself gather his willpower. It was for the best. An image of his miserable, wasted father pushed itself out from where Peter had buried it deep. Hardening himself, he buried it again.
“Matteo, are your plans fixed? Or can you afford to stay the week?”
Matteo laughed.
“Don’t think I do not know what you are about, Peter.”
Peter let out a sigh.
“If you can stay as long as Lady Helena and Lady Chastity are here, I would appreciate it.”
“Ah, yes. The best friend.”
“There is another one actually, the Duchess of Wylds, Celine Harken. She is in confinement therefore unable to be here as well.”
“That Lady Helena seems exhausted. And cross. I made a joke the other day about the London Season; she did not find it funny. Seems not to have experienced fun in quite some time.”
“Matteo.”
Matteo laughed at Peter’s warning tone.
“Will you relax, Duke? I am not about to corrupt the poor lady. Besides she is not my usual type.”
Peter’s lips formed a thin line.
“Yes, I shall stay.”
Laughing, Matteo continued, “If only to give the ladies the amusement that you cannot.”
“That one, I think, will fit better. The height seems more appropriate.”
Dahlia directed two footmen as they chose the tree that was to be cut and placed in the sitting room.
“I think fir is a good choice,” Helena said. “It has a fuller shape than the spruce, so I think it can hold more decorations.”
“Yes, precisely,” Dahlia affirmed, an excited smile on her face. She could imagine the scene it would create, the fresh scent it would give off.
“This tree, Your Grace?” one of the footmen called out to confirm her choice.
“Yes, that one, thank you, Simmons.”
“We should gather the pinecones,” Dahlia said as the footmen went to work on the tree.
Baskets in hand, Dahlia and Helena walked to where a cluster of pine trees grew in profusion. A few pinecones littered the snow-covered ground. The two ladies looked at the pine tree’s offerings.
“There doesn’t seem to be that many of them,” Helena observed.
“Let’s gather what we can.”
