The Gift of Love (The Book of Love #8) - Meara Platt Page 0,33

keep that in mind.”

“Your turn now. I’ve done enough talking.”

“All right, Queen Pea. I’ll count them off in the same order as you did yours. How does that sound to you?”

“Perfect.” She took a deep breath, eager to hear his comments.

But Violet knocked on the open door and ducked her head in. “I do apologize for the interruption. It is getting late, and Heather is yawning, and–”

“Of course.” Dahlia jumped out of her seat. “How thoughtless of us.”

“No, not at all.” Violet smiled at her. “I’m glad you were having such a nice time together.”

Ah, yes. Well-meaning cousin whose matchmaking instincts were on fire. Dahlia turned to Ronan. “Shall we expect you at the same time tomorrow evening?”

When he stood up beside her, his shoulder lightly grazed hers. Of course, his mere touch sent tingles shooting through her body...something that never happened with Gerald. Yes, she had been so foolish.

Ronan did not seem to be at all affected by their bodies in such close proximity. “No, I have something altogether different planned. Will you three be available tomorrow afternoon?”

Dahlia glanced at her cousin, and when Violet nodded, she turned back to Ronan. “Yes, we are. What is the plan?”

“I’d rather keep it a surprise.”

Oh, she hated surprises. What did he have in mind?

CHAPTER EIGHT

Dahlia was ready when Ronan drew up in a carriage in front of Uncle John’s townhouse the following afternoon. Violet was feeling a little under the weather, so Ronan had picked up their sister, Holly, along the way. Since she was now married to Ronan’s brother, she had agreed to serve as a chaperone for her and Heather.

This had originally been Holly’s designated role when the three of them had come down to London from York. As a young widow, she’d had no plans to put herself on the marriage mart, but all that had changed upon meeting Ronan’s brother, Joshua.

Dahlia was pleased to see her. “Do you know where he is taking us?”

Holly shrugged. “No, he wouldn’t tell me anything.”

She looked up at Ronan. “Why are you being so mysterious?”

He smiled at her as he helped her into the carriage. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

They were on their way a moment later. It did not take them long before they turned off Park Lane onto a beautiful, tree-lined street that was as lovely as Chipping Way.

Dahlia put her nose to the cold glass to peer out the window as they passed one well-maintained home after another.

She was still peering out of the window when they turned onto a small square. In its center was a gated garden with yew trees and boxwood shrubs that looked quite beautiful covered in snow. Their carriage slowed as they drew up in front of one of the elegant houses. “Are we to pay a call on someone?”

He nodded. “Yes, Lady Wellbrook. She’s expecting us.”

Dahlia exchanged confused glances with her sisters. After her humiliating encounter with Gerald, she really was not keen on surprises. But this house intrigued her. There was just something about it, a stately charm and an aura of faded elegance she found captivating. “Oh, I could do so much with this grand house,” she muttered under her breath.

Ronan must have heard her, for he was smiling once again. “Are you eager to go exploring?”

She nodded. “But will Lady Wellbrook allow me?”

“Yes, I’m sure she will. Perhaps after tea.” He took Dahlia’s arm as they walked to the front door. Holly and Heather followed close by their side.

“You are being very secretive,” she whispered to him. “What is this all about?”

The door opened before Ronan could reply. “Captain Brayden,” the frail, elderly butler said with a nod and stepped aside to allow them in. “Lady Wellbrook will be down in a moment. She asked me to show you into the winter parlor.”

Dahlia’s eyes widened as she took in the beautiful detailing in the entry hall. The cornices, the niches, the high ceiling, and grand staircase. She was so busy looking everywhere, but where she was going, she bumped into a wall.

“Give me your hand, Queen Pea.” Chuckling, Ronan tucked it securely under his arm and then placed his hand over hers so that he could draw her closer to him each time she was about to walk into something.

She turned to him, giddy with excitement. “I am in love with this house.”

“Good. I hoped you would be. I bought it yesterday.”

She inhaled sharply. “What?”

“Well, it isn’t mine yet. But I put in my offer. Lady Wellbrook has accepted.