The Earl Not Taken Read online

  She never wanted to marry. He had been a tool to rid her of her virginity. He’d told himself this for days; yet looking at her now, it was hard to remember. Was it unfair of him to want more, knowing it would make her unhappy to be his wife? The fact that he could bring her only sorrow if he asked for what his heart desired crushed him. “I am at your service. We are friends if nothing else, and I will protect you as I will protect all the Wallflowers. You need never be ashamed of what happened between us. I’m going to say it again as it is very important.”

  He touched her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “You need never be ashamed of the beautiful night we spent together. I will always be here for you no matter what you desire or need. Do you understand?”

  With a nod, she said, “You are my friend.”

  It would have to do. “That’s right. I shall always be your friend and keep you safe, no matter the situation.”

  “Thank you.” Her tiny smile lifted his heart.

  Pulling her into his embrace, he took in her warm scent and rubbed his chin against her soft hair. He could spend a lifetime in this paradise with only Poppy, but that was not what she wanted, so he’d have to settle for friendship and keeping her safe unless he could convince her otherwise. Rhys had never wanted to hear a woman tell him she loved or even liked him more.

  He pressed his lips to her forehead then stepped away. There was no point in overwhelming her with his flood of emotions until she was sure of her own. “I will try to gather information from Breckenridge. You might convince Faith to spend some time with him. Perhaps she will like him.”

  “I will try, but she is quite stubborn regarding the subject. She’s determined not to like him.” She walked toward the field, away from the house.

  Following, he let the warm sun fill the spaces left empty by Poppy’s rejection. “I don’t understand. He seems a nice fellow if a bit unconventional. I know she mistrusts his past, but that didn’t stop you from liking him.”

  The grass was high, reaching to her hips. She ran her fingers along the tops, creating a wave in her wake and sending bugs and butterflies flitting from their hiding places.

  Her hair was stretched into a bun, and he longed to pull it down and watch it flow in the breeze. If he wasn’t careful, she’d turn him into a poet.

  “It’s a funny thing about Faith. She likes everything to appear perfect even as she’s plotting to do something outrageous,” she said. “Breckenridge would have been better off acting the part of a perfectly boring duke when they met.” She put her finger close to a yellow butterfly that perched on a tall white blossom.

  It stepped onto her finger with its wings slowly moving up and down. A moment later, it flew away and she laughed.

  Rhys let out the breath he’d been holding. “Are you good with all creatures big and small?”

  She shrugged. “I have some trouble with people.”

  Closing the gap, he tugged her hand, slowing her pace. “Not all people.”

  She allowed her fingers to thread through his, and they walked together.

  Skin to skin even in such a harmless way, heat infused him from head to toe. Someone might see them, and then she would be ruined and he would be obligated to marry her. He glanced back toward the house, but they were alone.

  “It took us six years to become friends, Rhys. My ineptitude as a socialite is safe.”

  Unable to stop himself, he kissed the back of her hand. “It was my fault for not getting to know the real you. I was a fool to let a few torn hems and some minor incidents drive my beliefs about you. I knew you were smart and kind. I should have let that be enough.”

  Facing him, she cocked her head to one side and then the other. “You cannot take all the blame. You were always good to your sister, and yet your rakish reputation ruled my internal description of you.”

  “Internal description?” He laughed at the odd term.

  “Yes. When I meet someone, I describe them to myself. Sometimes, I label them kind, stupid, pleasant, untrustworthy, or something of that nature.”

  “Poppy, do you think that’s fair?” He’d never thought to label people.

  Another shrug. “I think most people do the same thing. They just don’t admit it. You meet a person, decide if you like them, don’t like them, or need more time to decide and whether they are worth the time to be bothered. You have reasons for those assessments even if you don’t put a name to it.”

  “I suppose that’s true, but to plop a label on someone and stand by it is rather unforgiving on your part.” Still holding her hand, he did not relinquish it when she gave a tug. “Do not run from me just because I don’t agree with you.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and a small crease formed between them as she focused on their clasped hands. “Is that what I do?”

  “What?” He eased her closer.

  “Am I irreversibly judgmental? Do I run from anything that does not suit me?”

  Leaving no space between them, he couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to her lips.

  She leaned in and wrapped her hand around his neck. Her mouth opened, allowing him in.

  The world shrank to a space that only held the two of them. Everything else slipped away as their tongues met and he made love to her sweet mouth as he dreamed of more kisses and days like this one.

  Pressing his forehead to hers, he caught his breath. “You run from me. I cannot say it is a chronic habit; only you can be the judge of that, Penelope.”

  With a long sigh, she laid her cheek on his chest and sank into his embrace. “I am flawed, hopelessly flawed.”

  Giving in to his desires, he pulled the pins holding her tresses firm and let the silky locks fall over his hand. “We are all flawed. We come to be this way by our upbringing.”

  She laughed, and it rumbled delightfully against him. “Are you saying it’s not my fault I’m damaged?”

  “It is only your fault if you stay that way, my sweet.” He tipped her chin up for another kiss. “Now, we had better get back to the house before we are spotted and I am forced to marry you.”

  Wide horrified eyes gaped up at him before she pushed away. “Yes. We should get back.”

  “I was joking, Poppy.” He reached for her hand, but she clutched both to her chest as if he might tempt her to her doom.

  She looked like a cornered mouse searching for an escape. Twisting her hair up into a rough knot, she said, “I know. I know. You should not follow me directly. We wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression.”

  Unable to contain his hurt, he drew it in like a shield. “What impression is that?”

  She stopped and stared at him with those deep blue eyes saturated with confusion, passion, and something he couldn’t identify. “That we are anything more than old family friends.”

  “I see.”

  She put her hands on her hips and glared. “What’s wrong? You don’t want to marry me and I don’t want to marry at all. Why do you suddenly look put out when it was you who mentioned being spotted out here?”

  The last was a valid point. He didn’t want to be forced into anything. Marriage should be a choice, not an accident; it was a bad way to start a life together. Hell. Calming his raging emotions, he forced a smile. “You’re right, of course. Go find your friends. I’ll see you at supper.”

  “Are we still friends?” Her voice suddenly small and unlike the boisterous Poppy, she sounded vulnerable.

  Closing the distance, he opened his arms and let her in. Rhys kissed her hair, reveling in the softness and flowery soap mixing with the essence of Poppy. “We will always be friends and more, my sweet. I am here for you, whatever you need.”

  Her smile bright, she pulled away from him and ran toward the house.

  Rhys followed more slowly. How had he come to such a turn? Poppy Arrington would be the death of him; that much was certain.

  Chapter 11

  Why it should bother Poppy if Rhys had avoided being alone with her since their talk, she couldn’t say. However, each time during the week of picnics, dinners, dancing, and card playing that he made an excuse to be out of her company, the ache in her chest grew more unbearable.

  Even as the dinner party broke up and made their way into the grand parlor for dancing, Poppy noted how Rhys escorted Aurora rather than let Garrett Winslow take her in.

  Keeping her chin up was not easy, but in this case, he was the wiser of the two of them. If they were seen too much in each other’s company, people would begin to talk. Gossip of that kind would never do.

  Poppy swallowed down the emotion forcing its way into her throat. She didn’t want Rhys. He was her friend and had been a kind and thoughtful lover, nothing more. Keeping up her resolve was becoming harder and harder as the house party continued. Seeing him daily but not knowing his thoughts or hearing his laughter gnawed at her.

  The parlor’s stately furniture had been pushed aside and the rug rolled up to afford a large space for dancing. The dark wood on the walls and coffered ceiling gave the same formal feel as Faith’s parents with no room for diversion.

  Taking a seat behind the pianoforte, Mercy played a lively reel. Mercy had a knack for the ironic and had probably picked the country dance with the purpose of annoying the lord and lady of the house. It was delightful and inappropriate, and no one would say a word about it. She was quite brilliant.

  Faith dragged Poppy to the center of the room and pushed her toward Rhys, who bowed as he consented to dance with Poppy while Faith danced with Garrett.

  Garrett laughed. “I suppose we have our marching orders.”

  “It would seem so,” Rhys said, offering Poppy his arm.

  Garrett gave a mock bow. “Faith is by far the most charming general a man has had to take his commands from.”

  Blushing, Faith smacked his arm with her fan. “Stop teasing. The music is about to start.”

  They made the first pass, and Poppy bit her tongue.

  On the second, Rhys broke the silence. “You have something on your mind, my lady?”

  “You have been avoiding me.” She wanted to sound aloof, but it came out petulant and hurt.

  His step faltered. “I have done exactly what you asked.”

  Had she asked him to keep his distance? She’d wanted to avoid gossip. Oh Zeus, she’d become an imbecile after all her efforts to keep her head. “I supposed you did.”

  Nicholas leaned against the wall with a glass of brandy and watched. If he was jealous, he showed no signs; however, as soon as the reel was over, he strode over and claimed Faith for a waltz.

  Poppy curtsied without looking into Rhys’s eyes and turned to walk away.

  He wrapped his hand around her wrist, halting her. “One more will not make the gossips in this small crowd crazed, Penelope.”

  Stepping into his arms was the worst kind of torture. “This is not wise, Rhys.”

  Leaning in just enough to allow for a whisper let his woodsy scent fill her. “I shall never regret any opportunity to hold you in my arms, whether wise or not.”

  “You are far too bold.” Whirling around the parlor, she was safe in his arms. No mother to scold her and no father whose disappointment colored her life from birth to present. It was just the two of them, and he expertly guided them in his easy way. He even managed to keep her from stumbling around like a ninny.

  One side of his mouth turned up. “You might dance the next with Breckenridge. I can see from Faith’s expression she will glean no information.”

  Risking a glance, Poppy confirmed Rhys’s assessment. Faith rolled her eyes at whatever Nicholas had said, keeping her expression bored, rude, and generally unpleasant. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  “I have never seen Faith so set against someone.” He turned them around Faith and Nicholas, who soon gave up on the dance and went to join Aurora on the couch. A bit lost but at the same time regal in her dark blue gown, Aurora chatted politely with Faith’s parents.

  It was a keen observation. Faith was rarely rude and disliked very few people. She was forgiving by nature. “Perhaps she really doesn’t like him.”

  “Or perhaps she does.” His voice rang with some insight that Poppy couldn’t quite figure out.

  Before she could ask him to clarify, the music ended and he escorted her to the pianoforte where Mercy grinned watching them.

  Faith and Nicholas were already there, and Faith had not warmed. Nicolas sighed. “Lady Penelope, do you play?”

  “A little, but not so well as Mercy.” She’d always admired the ease with which Mercy could play any instrument she picked up.

  “Then perhaps you would honor me with a dance before relieving Miss Heath of her bench?” Nicholas smiled warmly and offered his gloved hand.

  It was far easier to gain a dance than she’d expected. With a grin she couldn’t hold back, Poppy accepted his offer and avoided Rhys’s gaze as she went back to the center of the room. Garrett had convinced Aurora to dance and joined them in the minuet.

  Garrett’s hair gleamed with a streak of red in the candlelit room. He spoke over the music. “It’s good to see all of you ladies again. It has been too long.”

  Aurora replied, “You’ve been off traveling for almost as long as we’ve been home from Lucerne. I thought you might never come home.”

  Unsure why Aurora was churlish, Poppy cleared her throat on the next pass. “I think it was our last year at Miss Agatha’s when you came to visit with Rhys.”

  Garrett gave Aurora an apologetic smile, squared his wide shoulders, and let the mirth return to his light brown eyes. They always shone with amusement. “Indeed. You were all thriving there.”

  Poppy agreed, liking Garrett Winslow more and more.

  When they broke apart and she was relatively alone with Nicholas, his calm expression changed and his blue eyes burned with displeasure. The angular bones of his cheeks and jaw seemed more pronounced. “Why does Lady Faith appear to dislike me so vehemently?”

  The dance didn’t allow her to respond right away, and she was relieved to have a moment to gather her wits and decide how to answer. This would not be a good time to bumble in her usual clumsy fashion. “I doubt very much she dislikes you. Perhaps only the fact she might be forced to marry someone she doesn’t know.”

  “All my attempts to get to know her have been ignored.” A lock of dark brown hair flopped on his forehead, and he pushed it back.

  Once again, they were silenced by the dance coming together in a foursome. It was difficult to have a conversation of any value while interacting with the dance.

  Poppy waited for the last pass to bring them together. She curtsied and met Nicholas’s regard. “Perhaps you are only trying to know her without divulging anything about yourself.”

  His eyes widened. “I told her about my schooling and my home in the country.”

  “Anything recent or just your distant past?”

  “I don’t understand.” He rubbed his temple.

  “I believe you corresponded with Faith’s mother for many months prior to your meeting. I’m certain that you know all about Faith’s life, likes, and dislikes from those letters. Not once did you address mail directly to Faith and make an effort to know her.” Poppy waited for a reaction.

  Nicholas stared at his feet before regaining his impressive height. “I suppose that’s true. It would have been highly irregular to write to a young woman without an introduction. I was also quite busy at the time of those letters.”

  “Busy with what?” Finally, the opportunity she’d been waiting for.

  He sputtered for a moment. “I have business in France.”

  “What kind of business? Do you own land or ships, perhaps?”

  Rather than loosen his lips, the prompt shut him down. His eyes narrowed and grew hard. “I’m afraid those things are private, Lady Penelope.”

  Holding back her sigh, she faked a smile. “Of course. And please call me Poppy.” There was no point in pushing the issue. “You know, I met a friend of yours, Mr. Arafa. He is an extraordinary person. He speaks very highly of you.”

  Before he could mask his expression, shock registered on his handsome face. “How did you meet Geb Arafa? I can’t imagine your life brings you into his circle.”

  “And that is a pity. I was caught in a storm outside of London. His home was the closest shelter, and he and his servants were kind enough to afford me shelter for two nights.”

  “Interesting.” Nicholas rubbed his chin.

  “You find it odd a lady would take shelter in a stranger’s home?” She studied him, noting the way his eyes shifted but did not meet hers for some seconds. He must be considering all the possibilities. Perhaps he worried Geb had exposed him in some way. Poppy wished that were true.

  “I gather you liked Mr. Arafa?” he finally asked.

  “Oh, very much. He is such a fine gentleman.”

  Nicholas raised a brow. “He is, but most people of the ton cannot see past his exotic looks. I’m pleased to know that type of prejudice does not extend to Lady Faith’s friends.”

  The thing Poppy hated almost as much as being forced into a life not of her choosing was to be lumped in with the rest of the snobs in London’s upper crust. “I can assure you none of the Wallflowers judge people by anything but their own flaws or merits. We know quite a lot about being judged by assumption rather than facts.”

  “If that is true, Lady Faith believes it a fact I am not suitable for her.” His frown deepened, and he ran his hand through his hair, loosening the queue and giving him a rather wild look.

  “Perhaps you might spend some private time with Faith. She only knows she was not consulted. You and her mother made an arrangement without her knowledge and then she was tossed some letters after the fact.” Poppy held her breath. She’d given away more than Faith might have wanted, but someone had to be honest in this mess.