The Earl Not Taken Page 3

  Faith’s eyes grew wide. “That’s a marvelous idea. I must make Father and Mother believe it was their notion, but I’ll get to work on it. They adore Aurora, and I’ll find a way to let them know they’d be helping her in her grief.”

  It was impossible not to laugh. Poppy said, “Oh Faith, I do love you. Always so prim and proper until trickery and mischief is necessary. Maybe your mother would like to invite Nicholas Ellsworth to attend the house party as well?”

  Frowning, she sighed. “It means I’ll have to pay him some attention, but at least it would give us a chance to find out if he’s a nice man.”

  “That is the point, Faith,” Mercy said. “Unless you’ve already decided against him and you just want us to figure out a way for him to become unsuitable.”

  “Let me decide after I meet him. Then perhaps we’ll need a secondary plan of attack.” Faith smoothed her skirt and fussed with a wrinkle, which wouldn’t release.

  Aurora stood, went to the cabinet in the corner, and pulled out a decanter of wine. “Shall we toast our new covenant?”

  “Oh yes,” Faith, said clapping and practically bouncing with excitement.

  Poppy went over to help with the glasses, and once poured, she brought one for Mercy and one for herself, which she sloshed several drops of on the table. When they each had a glass and stood in a circle, she said, “To the Wallflowers of West Lane. No harm shall ever come to any of us every again.”

  “Never again,” Mercy repeated.

  “No harm,” Faith said.

  Aurora nodded, and they all touched glasses with a musical clink of crystal.

  Chapter 2

  Rhys hated teahouses and the petty gossip floating around them as if the frilly curtains and white table linen demanded it. He’d needed a place where he could meet with Poppy, which was not at his sister’s home and publicly suitable. In spite of the unacceptable thoughts running through his head since offering to help her, he would behave like the gentleman he was. Poppy Arrington was a mess. She always said the wrong thing, had no sense of fashion, and was far too headstrong and opinionated. Besides, she didn’t like him one bit. When he married, which wouldn’t be for some time, he hoped his wife would tolerate him to some degree.

  The rain and early hour had kept most of George’s clientele away. He didn’t think such a small thing would keep Poppy from showing up, though it had occurred to him she might leave him waiting just to punish him. At least a good fire burned in the hearth to warm him on the dreary day.

  For three years he had tried to fathom why she disliked him so. While she and his sister were away in Switzerland he had visited twice, but he’d spent little time with Poppy. He obtained permission to take Aurora away, and they went into the Kingdom of Sardinia to eat and catch up on gossip. The last time he’d brought his best friend Garrett Winslow with him, and that visit had been very merry and vexing, as the ladies often were.

  His father had disliked Poppy and deemed her a bad influence on Aurora. He had been horrifically in error about his choice for Aurora’s husband. Rhys should have been more attentive rather than running about town with friends and mistresses. Maybe if he’d paid better attention, Aurora’s suffering would have been lessened. He forced his anger down and focused on the task before him.

  Father’s opinions were rarely correct. Rhys preferred to form his own opinion, and while Poppy mocked society’s rules, she was intelligent, funny, and kind to everyone. Though he seemed to be the exception to Poppy’s benevolent nature.

  Only one other table was occupied, and the three ladies sitting there were engaged in their own conversation when the bell above the door jingled and a slightly wet and delightfully flushed Poppy stumbled in.

  “By the Kraken, it’s awful out there.” Poppy shook out her umbrella.

  Rhys stood, shook his head over her exclamation, and bowed. “May I help you?”

  Narrowing her eyes, she studied him. “You may take my overcoat if you like. I don’t know why we couldn’t meet at the West Lane house.”

  Taking her overcoat and umbrella, he placed them both on the hooks near the door. “I thought it best to leave Faith and Aurora out of the planning.”

  Other than a few wet strands of warm brown hair clinging to her face from the damp and the bottom few inches of her dress, she’d managed to stay dry. Sitting, she gave him a hard look. “I don’t see why. I will tell them everything anyway.”

  Lord, he wished he could see something other than disdain in those deep blue eyes when she glared at him. “I’m well aware of that. Still, too many plotters can muddy the plan. Since Aurora can’t participate and Faith shouldn’t be included should she actually marry Breckenridge, I thought it best to keep it between us.”

  One thing he’d always admired about Poppy was her keen mind and ability to recognize when something was right or wrong. Her eyes focused on a spot on the whitewashed wall, and slowly her expression softened. “I see your point.”

  Rhys sat. “Good. I knew you would. Shall I tell you what I think?”

  There was her narrowed gaze again. “I don’t suppose I can stop you.”

  It did no good to fawn over and coddle her. He had tried to get her to like him over the years, and she only became suspicious. It was better to be himself and let her think what she would. “You may tell me your plan first if you like.”

  Eyebrows raised and lips in a pout, she made him want to kiss her senseless. Lord, where had that come from? He shook off the impulse. Nothing about Poppy was right. Her dress was out of fashion, and the cream color washed her out. Her hair was tied in a tight knot, but bits had fought loose and stuck out in every direction. He had given too much thought to her and decided it was her lack of interest that drew him in. Since he’d left school, he’d been chased by every marriage mart mama in England and their silly daughters. Poppy was the first who dismissed him as a pariah. If he could turn her opinion around, he could shed his unwanted feelings. It was brilliant. They would save Faith if need be, and he would divest himself of his notions about Poppy all at the same time.

  “Rhys, why are you helping me?” She leaned forward, pressing her breasts against the table in the most delectable way.

  His mouth went dry. “I told you. It’s the least I can do after allowing Aurora to be hurt all those years. I thought you were going to tell me your plan?”

  The way her gaze softened, she was beautiful rather than just pretty. “You were not at fault. It was your father and Radcliff who were culpable and hopefully they are both in hell for their crimes.”

  Despite his father’s many flaws, he couldn’t let her say such things. “My father could not have known what Radcliff was. I did not approve of many things my father did and said, but he would not have intentionally harmed Aurora. You must know that.”

  Eyes cast down, she flushed. “I’m sorry. It is one of my many character flaws to say what I’m thinking. Most of the time thinking it is more than enough. I should not speak of the dead in such a way.”

  It cost her the loss of some pride to offer him an apology. The agony of it wrinkled her pert nose and shadowed her eyes.

  “Tell me what you think we should do to begin this investigation,” he said.

  Nodding, she waited while the server placed a tray with tea and two cups on the table.

  Once the girl curtsied and rushed off, Poppy poured the tea. “The Sottonfield ball is a good opportunity. I hope to dance with Nicholas Ellsworth and do a little prying. I doubt he’ll pour out his heart to me in the span of one dance, but it’s a start. Beyond that, we must look for other times when we can get him alone.”

  Despite having never met the Duke of Breckenridge, the idea of him dancing and sharing secrets with Poppy twisted inside Rhys. It would be a bad start to hate the man before they began their research. “Perhaps my sister can give you some help with your attire and tips on dancing without damaging your partner.”

  “I can dress myself.”

  He looked from her messy hair to her muddy, worn boots and sighed. “I will make inquiries with some of my friends and see if anyone knows him or knows what he was doing in France for so long.”

  She cocked her head. “Why do you look vexed? Is it because of what I said about your father? I have already apologized and truly, I never had the impression you admired him much when he was alive.”

  That mouth of hers would get her into trouble one day. He shook off the ridiculous jealousy. “I am not vexed, but you really should monitor yourself, Penelope. I have known you for six years and you constantly say the most outrageous things.”

  “Are you saying you had affection for your late father?” Her nose wrinkled in the most adorable way.

  He sipped his tea. “My father was a difficult man as you well know. When he sent Aurora away, it was hard for me to forgive him. I worried she would be unprotected in Switzerland.”

  “Aurora told me you tried to keep her home and even after we went away, you continued to badger his lordship. It always made me wish for a sibling to stand up for me. Of course I had none. If Mother had delivered a son, then Father wouldn’t have bothered with me at all. It would have been better. However, after me, Mother could have no others. I ruined all their plans.”

  “Your parents should also monitor what they say and perhaps even what they think. I would not wish for a sibling if I were you, as all my attempts to keep my sister at home failed as you well know.” Old anger for his stubborn father roiled inside him.

  With a shrug, Poppy sipped her tea. “I’m rather glad you failed. If you had managed to change your father’s mind, I might have lost Aurora. We were happy at the Wormbattle School. It might not have been the most common way to finish a lady’s education, but it got us away from London’s prying eyes. I, for one, was glad to be gone from here and wish I could go back.”

  Poppy’s attention drifted to a platter of biscuits fresh from the oven. The warm vanilla and spices wafted through the shop.

  Rhys signaled the server to bring some of the sweets over. Watching Poppy’s eyes light up and her pink tongue peeking out between those full lips would be worth the cost of a thousand pastries. “If you could go back, what would you gain? You hardly seem the type to hide yourself away.”

  As she closed her lips around the biscuit, her eyes closed in a rapturous expression. “Delicious.”

  Swallowing down his desire, he took a biscuit and ate it while attempting to ignore her delight.

  Sipping her tea, she gazed at him over the rim of her cup. “I’ve never liked the demands of society, and you have continually noted my lack of social graces.”

  “I have seen you fumble around the ballrooms and embarrass a few hostesses. Yet your card is always full and you never lack for male attention.”

  The snick of her cup in the saucer was the first sign he had said something wrong. “I go to balls because it is required, and I dance with stupid men like you for the same reason. My card is full because my father has placed a giant dowry on my head like bait for the fish. You know nothing of my troubles, Rhys Draper. All you know of is your fancy title and the multitude of women who want to be the next Countess of Marsden.”

  Standing, she forced him to rise. The change in her demeanor was enough to set his head spinning. “I don’t see why you have become upset.”

  Her chest heaved, and the effect was more distracting than he cared to admit. “You don’t see anything. You and your kind always think the worst of those ladies trying to find husbands. Has it ever occurred to you they may want something else but have no options?”

  She grabbed her wet overcoat and umbrella and was out the door before he had time to respond.

  Something had just happened, but Rhys didn’t know what it was. Through the window, he spied Poppy standing in the rain trying to hail a hack. The ladies at the other table were watching now as Poppy’s last words had been in full voice.

  “My sister is vexed with me,” he told the ladies watching and hoped he was not recognized as he left money on the table, donned his overcoat, and ran after her.

  Poppy stood straight as a tree with her hands fisted at her sides. Her overcoat hung on her, hiding her lovely curves as the rain soaked her cream-colored hat and ran in rivers downward. Curls of hair stuck to her face, and she kept her focus on the street as he approached.

  The steady rain dripped off the rim of his hat. “What is wrong with you? I will drive you home. There is no need to stand out here getting soaked through.”

  “I don’t need anything from you, Rhys Draper. I can manage to get myself home, and I can keep Faith safe without you mucking everything up.”

  He was not in the habit of being confused, but the last few minutes had him bewildered.

  Clearly, he had struck a nerve, but how, he couldn’t fathom. “I am well aware that you are a capable young woman. You don’t need to prove anything to me.”

  Her face was covered in raindrops, but there might have been tears mixed in. “No. Of course, I don’t.”

  Perhaps he was going about it wrong. He was used to Poppy being a fierce yet fumbling lioness, but here was a kitten he’d never seen before. “Poppy, whatever I said to upset you, it was not my intent. I agree that men, myself included, are ignorant about the lives and needs of young ladies. Let me take you home in my carriage and you can rail at me all the way as penance for my bad behavior.”

  Fisting her left hand at her side, she gave a nod.

  Rhys waved his driver Patrick forward, and rather than allowing her to wait and get further soaked, he opened the door, tossed her umbrella inside, and lifted her into the carriage. She gasped as his hands wrapped around her waist. The warmth emanating through her coat, dress, and corset remained on his fingers even after he’d launched himself into the carriage as sat across from her.

  The carriage rolled down the street. She gazed at her gloved hands in her lap and pulled at the wet fabric. “I should not have reacted so…loudly. People will talk.”

  “The ladies at the other table did not look familiar or like they would run in the same society. I told them you are my sister. Hopefully that will be enough to stave off any gossip. You and Aurora don’t look alike, but as I said, the clientele was not from our immediate associations.”

  “Still, I should be more careful.” The kitten was gone, but the lioness was missing too. Across from him sat the personification of a perfect English lady. Rhys might become sick. He wanted the lioness. “There is no harm done. But perhaps you might tell me why you became so upset.”

  “I’d rather not.” She tugged at her glove, pulling the soggy cloth from her tapered fingers.

  “If we are to work together to save Faith, it would be helpful to know what is going to send you into a rage.” He should let it go, but he couldn’t stop himself.

  “It was not a rage.” There was his lioness.

  Lord, it was deadly to enjoy her temper so much. “Are we going to argue every point? Shall we bicker about whether we bickered?”

  She cocked her pretty head, studied him, and then giggled. “All right, I admit to a small rage.”

  It was better than winning a hundred pounds on a pair of twos. “And the reason?”

  “I don’t like the way you assumed all women are clamoring to marry because it is what we want. The fact is, it is the only thing we can do to better our position in life. You can go out and buy land, build a factory, open a shipping business, if you choose. You can find ways to increase the production of your fields or decide you prefer a quieter life and retire to the country with a small income from your holdings. Men have choices. The only option I have is to marry someone who won’t make me miserable or worse, beat me to death.” The final words were forced out through a tight throat.

  Rhys’s heart broke for his sister, and he thanked God Radcliff was in the ground already. “I understand. I didn’t mean to sound unfeeling toward the plight of women. Try to look at it from my perspective, just for a moment.”

  She wrinkled her nose and ran her fingers along the piped trim on the ruby-colored velvet on the cushion. “What do you mean?”

  “I shall give you a specific example of why I rarely go to balls. Three weeks ago, my good friend Thurman Nash asked me to attend his sister’s coming-out ball. Rebecca is a nice enough girl whom I met when she was still a child as Thurman and I were at school together.”

  “I know Becca Nash. She is a bit shy, but very nice.” Despite her favorable words, Poppy frowned.

  He would have called the girl mousy, but her description was kinder. “Indeed. I arrived at the Nash’s townhome at a fashionable hour, and immediately I knew it had been a mistake. Mrs. Nash rushed toward me, her face bright red. If you know her at all, you must know she is rather terrifying under good circumstances.”

  At least Poppy had the good grace to try to hide her giggle, though it stirred something wonderful inside him to bring her joy, even at his own expense.

  Mrs. Nash was near to six feet tall and had a bosom that preceded her by several seconds. She always wore her hair piled high and therefore towered over most everyone in any room. “Clearly, you have met her.”

  Another giggle.

  “She was waving her hands, and her hair swayed from side to side. I thought surely it would topple and I would be smothered. She yelled, ‘Marsden, you must come quickly and dance with Rebecca. All is lost.’ I thought, good Lord, has the girl ruined herself at her first ball? I like Thurman, but what am I to do in such a case? I said I would be happy to dance with her and was dragged across the ballroom and thrust at poor Rebecca, who had spilled a good deal of wine down the front of her white gown and looked as if the incident had caused some hysteria. As soon as the dance was over, I suggested she might want to retire to her room and have her maid help her into a different gown. I was trying to help, and clearly her mother had lost her mind to not let the girl go and change. An hour later when she returned to the ballroom, both she and her mother were telling anyone who would listen I was sure to propose at any moment. I barely know the girl, she is too young at just sixteen, and I never gave any indication of special regard. I was badgered and embarrassed within five seconds of entering the house, and I’m afraid to go anywhere near my friend Thurman lest he be in on the conspiracy.”