Page 88 of Stolen By the Duke of Ice
“You are taller. Please hand it to Dahlia, Your Grace.”
The others, now aware of what was happening, gathered around the fir tree and watched as Dahlia quickly completed the top portion of the tree. Impressed at their efficiency, Mary, Claire, Chastity, Mrs. Baker and Biddy clapped their hands as the last ornament was put in place.
“Wait, do not put Dahlia down yet, Peter,” Claire said as he prepared to do so.
“Here, you must hang this as well.” She held out a sprig of mistletoe which Matteo took and passed to Dahlia.
She, Mary, and Chastity had gathered some sprigs from a low hanging branch of a hawthorn tree that grew near the hothouse.
“Christmas will not do without mistletoe!” Chastity had told the giggling twins.
“Over there.” Claire pointed to the chandelier. “Can you reach it Dahlia?”
“Hold on,” Peter told Dahlia as he tightened his hold on her.
Her hand held on to the side of his head and neck. He walked carefully to the chandelier. Dahlia reached up and slid the mistletoe between the curving iron designs of the chandelier.
“There!” she said triumphantly.
Another round of applause broke within the room.
Slowly, Peter let Dahlia down. When her feet touched the floor, she swayed, and he stilled her. Her hands rested on his chest as she got her bearings back, his hands around her waist.
Peter felt invigorated, like an Olympian finishing a race. He could still feel her form as he carried her. Indeed, he could feel her in the entire room.
Slowly, she moved back, her hands sliding away from his chest. He knew it was with reluctance that he let her go.
“There,” he said smiling at her, playing down his reactions. “I have kept my word.”
“And so, you have. Thank you for not dropping me, Your Grace.” She smiled back at him then turned to the ladies as they went to survey their handiwork.
“Your face is all red,” Mary told Dahlia.
“Is it?” Dahlia covered her cheeks with her hands. “I don’t suppose I am used to being so high up.”
Matteo went to his friend and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Well done! You are not such an old man after all.”
Peter gave him an unimpressed look. He’d given Matteo so many that day that he half believed his face would freeze that way.
“I do believe you are winded, Peter; your face is all red as well—it must be from all that lifting.” His face split into a wide grin then added in a low voice. “Or could you be blushing?”
Chapter Eighteen
Afew days after their arrival, Helena and Chastity were inducted intothe Garden of Hesperides.
The Duke and the Aspiring Detectiveswas secretly lent to them, and by the time the next meeting was due, they had caught up with the Mary and Claire.
Holding the meetings in the hothouse was now out of the question, therefore a newGardenneeded to be named. Dahlia had thought the answer most obvious. Her bedroom was the perfect place for it. Although the master’s and the mistress’ private sitting rooms had connecting doors, they never had actually been used by either party.
It isn’t like Peter will visit my chambers.
And so, the afternoon found Dahlia, Mary, Claire, Helena, and Chastity in her bedroom.
“Let us use the bedroom and not the sitting room just to be sure,” she told them as they filed into her chambers.
When they had settled down, Dahlia took out the commonplace book she used to write down her new story. It had originally been intended as a journal, but once the twins had convinced her to write again, it had naturally transformed into her novel.
