Continuing with her task, she did a quick inventory of stems.
Let me see: the pink ones for Mary’s room, yellow for Claire’s room, white for the sitting room, and the red for mine.
She had cut enough for each arrangement. Laying them neatly on the worktable she paused.
Shall I cut some for Peter’s room? I think I shall!
Mischievously, she chose the pink ones for him. She started giggling at the image of Peter discovering the pink roses on his bedside table.
“I hope you are not considering turning those poor roses into pincushions, Dahlia.”
Dahlia jumped, and in her surprise, she threw a stem of pink rose at Peter. He caught it in his hand and grinned.
“Why, thank you, Your Grace,” he said with a wide grin.
“Peter, you are very lucky that it was not these pruning shears that I threw at you!”
“I apologize for startling you. Indeed, I should have walked louder.”
Dahlia gave him a look.
“I hope you have been enjoying the hot house?”
Forgetting her annoyance at him, Dalia’s face lit up with pleasure.
“It is wonderful! I have always loved hothouses ever since I was a child. The things to be found in them!”
She pointed to the newly cut roses on the table.
“Look, is it not a marvel to have roses in the middle of winter?”
“It is indeed,” he said smiling. Moving closer to the table, he examined the cut stems.
“Is everything in order for our visitors’ arrival tomorrow?”
As they talked, Dahlia put the stems in her basket.
“Yes, everything is arranged. Mrs. Baker has identified which chambers to assign to them. She said that Matteo will be given his usual rooms.”
“If there is anything else that you need, you must let me know”
“Thank you, Peter.”
“Not at all, Dahlia.”
She put down the shears then took off her gloves.
“Well, I am done here. I should call Joshua to?—”
“Allow me.” Peter took the basket from the table and carried it.
“Thank you.”
Putting on their coats, they stepped out into the snow.
“How long have you and Matteo been friends?”
“Since university. Too long in my opinion,” he jested.
