Page 107 of Stolen By the Duke of Ice
And because she had finally said it, Dahlia rushed out of the mistress’ chambers, down the corridor, down the grand staircase, across the great hall and finally, out of the castle door.
Peter was there. Dahlia half-hoped that he would not be.
Mr. Cooper and Mrs. Baker stood behind him.
What has he told them, I wonder?
Seeing Mrs. Baker’s red rimmed eyes gave Dahlia an idea.
The simple truth of course. Dahlia hoped they did not assume that she thought them lacking in any way. To reassure them, she smiled warmly at them both and nodded her thanks.
Biddy entered the carriage. Following her, Dahlia walked quickly.
Peter caught her hand.
Surprised, Dahlia turned.
“Safe travels, Dahlia,” Peter said softly. “My—my solicitors will be in touch when the house is ready. It won’t be long.”
“Thank you, Peter.”
“If there is anything you need, anything at all, please?—”
“Contact your solicitors,” Dahlia cut him off. “Yes, I shall, thank you.”
He stood silent, watching her, his hand still holding hers.
“We best be off; we would not want to arrive too late in London,” Dahlia repeated Biddy’s words.
Peter nodded.
“Peter.” Her hand tightened in his. She reached up and softly kissed his cheek.
Peter’s arm went around Dahlia. Pressing her close, he inhaled the scent of her. Then quickly letting go, he handed her inside the carriage and closed the door.
When the carriage moved, Dahlia refused to look back at the castle, and she refused to look back at Peter. At the life that had almost been hers. She wondered if she would ever come back here, if she would ever see Mary and Claire again.
Perhaps in a ball in London, perhaps in Hyde Park.
The thought brought tears to her already brimming eyes.
Would she ever see Peter again? Perhaps it was best if she did not. No, she did not want to see him again.
Liar.
The tears fell hard and fast. Dahlia crumbled in her seat.
“Oh, Your Grace!” Biddy embraced her.
“Do not call me that, Biddy!” she said between sobs. “I am not his wife in truth. I refuse to be an empty duchess.”
Peter stood watching the fire in his bedroom, a drink in his hands. Checking the time on the clock, he estimated that Dahlia should have arrived at her parents’ house half an hour ago.
As soon as the carriage started to move from the driveway, Peter had turned around and walked back inside the castle. He had gone straight to his study and buried himself in work.
At breakfast and luncheon, he thought of sending word to Mary and Claire that he would be busy with matters of business, but at the last moment, he decided that it would be best if he joined them.
He had judged right, for the twins were devastated to learn that Dahlia had already gone.
