The Earl Not Taken Page 4

  Poppy recovered from her laughter. “Odin’s wolves. I can see why you might shy away from the ballroom and perhaps where you have gotten your opinion of women.. But you must understand Becca is only doing what she has been raised to do. From the moment we are born our mothers tell us we must find a husband, run a house, be an obedient daughter.”

  “And that is not what you want?” He longed to know what went on inside Poppy’s mind.

  All laughter fled, and there sat the perfect lady again. “Of course, it’s what I want. What else could a person of my kind hope to have?”

  Sensing there was more to the story, he longed to probe her, but the carriage rolled to a stop outside his sister’s West Lane townhouse.

  Patrick hopped down and pulled the door and step for her. The rain had slowed to a drizzle.

  Before she could escape, Rhys pulled the door closed. “I hope you will consider telling me the truth someday, Penelope. I’m not the monster you think I am.”

  Sitting at the edge of the bench brought her so close all he need do was lean an inch forward and he could press his lips to hers. She might slap him or scream, but there was the chance she would return his attention and perhaps rid him of his fantasy.

  A gaze filled with fire lifted to his. “My lord, just because your sister is my dear friend does not mean we have reached that level of confidence. However, you shouldn’t fret. You are exactly as you should be, a perfect gentleman with all the privilege and purpose that goes with it. You have always known what you would be and how you would live.”

  As always, she’d put him in his place. Nothing she said was false. He had always known he would become an earl, and she was required by society to marry someone regardless of her feelings. “I understand. Perhaps for the sake of having an amicable association and for the sake of Faith’s future, you and I should find a neutral ground. I shall attempt to be less the arrogant fob you think I am, and you can withhold your opinions of me and men of my sort.”

  She pushed open the carriage door, and passion filled her eyes. “I can only be who I am, but for Faith, I will do my best to keep peace between us.”

  Watching her stride up the stairs without a backward glance tightened something inside him. Giving himself a shake, he called up to Patrick to take him to the home of a very pretty actress. Melissa had been his mistress, but when his father died, he’d broken off the arrangement.

  They reached Melissa’s home twenty minutes later, and Patrick opened the door for him. Rhys sat staring up at the windows of Melissa’s rooms. The building was in a respectable part of town. Not rich by any means, well frequented by good society. Many men of his class kept mistresses, but he found it impossible to keep the meaningless relationship for any length of time.

  He thought his desire to get Poppy out of his head would spark interest in Melissa. “Take me home, Patrick.”

  Closing the door, Patrick gave him a knowing smile. “Yes, my lord.”

  Soft brown hair and startling blue eyes haunted him on the ride home. It wouldn’t do. He had to rid himself of Poppy Arrington. His gut twisted at the thought. Perhaps it was the fact that she didn’t like him that was so attractive. If he wooed her into desiring him, he would lose interest. Of course, the first woman to dismiss him was a challenge. That was all this was. She would vanish from his mind as soon as she wanted him.

  A seed of doubt lingered despite his revelation. Rhys pounded a fist on the carriage’s window frame.

  Chapter 3

  Poppy and her mother, the Countess of Merkwood, arrived at the Sottonfield ball just as Faith and her parents, the Earl and Countess of Dornbury, were greeting their hosts. While their parents became reacquainted and spoke of the difficulty of getting a daughter properly married, Faith and Poppy scooted away, hoping the crowded ballroom would obscure them from disappointed parents.

  Taking Faith’s arm, Poppy tugged her into the ballroom. “Mother picked me up just a moment after you and your parents pulled away from West Lane. I think this living away from home again is going to work out just fine.”

  “Mother and Father have no complaints about my living with Aurora as long as I continue with my duty to marry well.” Faith pulled a long face and crossed her eyes. “It’s a wonder they didn’t force the issue three years ago like the Earl of Marsden did with Aurora. They are happy to be rid of me.”

  “Perhaps they became used to our absence while we were in Switzerland, and all these years they were lamenting bringing us home.” Despite her chuckle, Poppy knew this was probable.

  “You look beautiful, Poppy,” Faith said as they walked arm in arm, slowly circling the elaborate room. “Lavender looks very good on you, and Aurora’s lady’s maid did a wonderful job with your hair.”

  “I feel like a doll twisted up for a glass case.” Poppy held her breath against the painful corset. The large ballroom had eight enormous round pillars equally spaced to hold up the ceiling. She was sure one of the bumble-footed men would ram her into a pillar before the night was over.

  Gilded walls and a thousand crystals reflected the hundreds of candles on each of four chandeliers and a dozen sconces. The arched ceiling, frescoed in the colors of an evening sky, made it questionable if they had ever come inside. “Let’s see if we can catch a glimpse of your duke, Faith.”

  “Do you think we should wait for Rhys?” Faith clutched her arm tighter.

  Patting Faith’s hand, Poppy cringed at the reminder she had somehow become partnered with the arrogant earl. “I suppose he’ll find us if he arrives. I’m not waiting around for any man.”

  “That attitude will not go over well with your mother.” Faith frowned.

  It was true; her mother had enough of Poppy’s unconcerned attitude toward the marriage mart. The one poor marquis who dared like her enough to ask for her hand had been summarily dismissed as too stupid to spend a lifetime with. “I have never cared much for my mother’s opinion where men are concerned. It was a mistake to bring Rhys into what should have remained a Wallflower endeavor.”

  “But if he can help?” Faith’s eyes were wide.

  Poppy pulled her arm closer. “Don’t fret. I will utilize Rhys’s advantages as a man, and we will not let you be married to a monster or even a dunderhead. Only the best men will ever be allowed to marry my friends going forward. I only wish we had known more three years ago and spared Aurora.”

  “You cannot change the past, Poppy, and beating yourself up about it will do no one any good.” Faith had a kind of wisdom that was righteous and well-timed.

  “Of course.” Yet memories of her friend’s battered body haunted her day and night. She shook off the dark thoughts. “Now, do you know what Nicholas Ellsworth looks like?”

  “I understand he is very tall.” Faith surveyed the room.

  There were so many people about, it was difficult to see much. “Not much of a description.”

  “As I told you, Mother arranged everything through letters.” Faith’s eyes filled with worry, but she kept her expression neutral and pleasant. It was an expression trained into every young lady. Hiding one’s emotions was an essential part of success among the ton. Of course, among close friends, the expressions hid very little.

  From across the room a tall man with a shock of dark hair drew the attention of everyone in the room as he excused himself through the crowd and headed for them.

  “I think this must be him now,” Poppy said.

  “He wouldn’t. We haven’t been introduced.” Faith’s expression was comical, a cross between shock and admiration.

  Stopping a few feet in front of the ladies, he bowed. A bit of hair escaped his queue, and he brushed it back. His blue eyes were alight as if he were excited to meet them, and a hint of amusement ticked at the corner of his lips. The sharp angles of his face gave him distinction, the overall effect an extremely handsome man. “I apologize. I know this is rather strange, but it seemed ridiculous to stand across the room and wait for a common acquaintance to introduce us. I am Nicholas Ellsworth, Lady Faith. I trust your very fine mother has told you about me?”

  Faith’s big eyes grew impossibly bigger and her mouth formed an O before she recovered and pulled her curvaceous figure to full height of just over five feet. “I hardly know what to say, Your Grace. This is not done. “Faith spoke just over a whisper but plastered a smile on her face for the crowd. “I suppose there is no help for it now.” She curtsied. “I am Faith Landon, as you appear to know already. Of course, Mother has told me about your correspondence. I had hoped for a more formal introduction.” She sighed and shook her head. As if to show him the way, she added, “This is my close friend, Lady Penelope Arrington.”

  Nicholas bowed to Poppy. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady. I apologize to both of you for my rudeness. I’ll admit I find all these rules tedious. Perhaps you might forgive me?” His smile could charm a queen, and Faith was not immune.

  Faith gave a slight nod. “They are tedious, but they are still the rules we live by, Your Grace.”

  Raising an eyebrow, he leaned in. “I’m surprised such things matter to you, Lady Faith.”

  “Why would you say that?” Faith cocked her head; her lips pulled into a tight line.

  “I was told you had to be sent away to the Wormbattle School. This usually indicates some disregard for societal rules.”

  Unable to help herself, Poppy hid a giggle behind her gloved hand. “We managed to return to England with some semblance of right and wrong, Your Grace.”

  Shrugging, he said, “A pity.”

  Faith gasped.

  The music started and Nicholas asked, “Would you honor me with this dance, my lady?”

  She accepted his arm, but her frown hid just below the surface of her calm facade. He’d left her no choice with the entire ballroom focused on them. Faith didn’t like being manipulated. It was a mark in the negative column for the duke.

  They looked good together. In her light blue gown, Faith was lovely with her dark curls tamed for the time being by pins. He was as tall as was reported and dressed all in black with only a dark blue cummerbund. It was as if they had arranged to both wear blue.

  Poppy saw it as an opportunity for them to get to know each other, and it was safe because there was no way she would let the pair out of her sight. It was obvious Faith was stubbornly refusing to speak while Nicholas chatted throughout the dance. By halfway into the music, he gave up, and Faith appeared annoyed.

  “Well, I see they’ve met.” Rhys stood beside her, but Poppy had no idea where he’d come from. She never saw him approach.

  “Yes. He’s a bit unconventional. Introduced himself.” Her skin warmed even though he was several inches from touching her. It was aggravating to have her body in direct conflict with her logical mind. She didn’t like Rhys, and yet he made her uncomfortable in a very female way whenever he was near. Hades’ blood, it was most inconvenient.

  “Interesting.” Rhys leaned closer. “I made some inquiries, but whatever he was up to in France is not public knowledge. I was able to confirm he has been back in England for a week, and he has visited number four Bow Street several times since. He was at White’s two nights ago and avoided any gossip.”

  The warm scents of leather, woodsmoke, and something distinctly Rhys filled the air and made Poppy want to step closer and take a deep breath. Of course, that was not an option. He was arrogant and pushy. His only redeeming quality was his love for his sister. It was a love they had in common. “Not very much to go on. Nothing really. Though, the fact that he visited the Bow Street Magistrate is interesting. Perhaps he was in France in some official capacity for the Crown.”

  “It is possible. Still, it seems strange it would be such a tightly held secret. Why does Faith look as though she’s eaten a frog?” He straightened his crisp white cravat and gave a crooked grin.

  “I think she is trying to dislike His Grace despite his attempts to win her over. Even in the few moments I met him, he was charming. Did you see Aurora today?”

  He frowned. “I stopped in for tea. I thought you might be there but found only my mother and Rora bickering with Faith trying to make peace.”

  Poppy sighed. “They never have gotten along very well. I spoke to her earlier and found her quite sad, but I had several errands to run before preparing for the ball. Faith was staying with her.”

  Gripping her arm, he pulled her away from the edge of the floor. “I thought she hated Radcliff. Why is she sad?”

  It was a difficult thing to explain to a man, let alone a man like Rhys Draper, who thought he knew everything. Men like Rhys and her father had no regard for what women really thought. “It is complicated.”

  The music ended, and Nicholas escorted Faith over to her mother on the opposite side of the ballroom. They chatted, and the Countess of Dornbury laughed at something he said.

  Rhys tightened his hold. “I’m not an idiot, no matter what you might think of me, Penelope.”

  “Why must you call me that when you know I hate it?” She had never liked her given name, and the only time it was used was by her mother or for formal address. But Rhys insisted on calling her Penelope since they were first introduced a week before the Wallflowers left for Miss Agatha’s.

  “That is exactly why I call you Penelope. Now, tell me why my sister is sad over the death of a man who mistreated her.”

  “This is not the place for such a conversation, my lord.” She tugged her arm out of his hand but missed the heat of the contact. Damn him for being so nice to look at and warm to touch. And why did he have to smell so good? Woodsmoke and something wild in nature always filled her senses when he was near.

  A waltz started, and colorful dancers took to the floor in pairs.

  “Dance with me, then. We look foolish standing here on the outskirts of the dance floor gawking.”

  He aggravated her more and more. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stomped her foot. It was petulant, but that was how she felt. “I don’t dance with men who use an address they know will offend me. Nor do I dance with rakes who run about town deflowering innocent women.”

  His warm breath tickled the shell of her ear and sent a tingle through her that settled low in her belly. “As a matter of fact, I have never deflowered an innocent. At least, not yet. Dance with me, Poppy.”

  The warmth of his breath on her skin spread lower until it pulsed between her thighs. Pushing aside her body’s response, she faced him. “Are you flirting with me?”

  Eyes the same pale blue as his sister’s but filled with mirth and mischief, he winked. “I’m trying to get you to dance so you’ll tell me what I can do to help Rora.”

  At once, Poppy was disappointed and relieved. “Fine. I’ll dance with you but only for Aurora’s sake.”

  A better dancer than she’d expected, Rhys whirled her around the floor with ease and grace. “You look very pretty tonight.”

  “There is no need to sound so shocked.” She’d been primped and poked for hours so she would look presentable for spying on a duke. Foolish as it was, she had to admit, she’d hardly recognized herself in the glass when Gillian was done.

  His full lips tipped up on one side in a maddening half smile. “I’m not shocked you can look lovely, only that you would make the effort.”

  “I think the process is a waste of time. I’ll probably trip and tear the gown or fall and dirty it anyway, so it hardly seems worth the trouble.” She stepped on his foot and made a quick apology.

  Rhys chuckled and righted her. “We will have to work on your dancing skills. However, in my opinion, the effort was well worth it.”

  “Thank you. You are surprisingly handsome.” It was true, but she had no idea why she’d told him so.

  The way his smile lit his eyes made it worth the compliment. As fast as the delight had flashed there, it was gone, replaced by fury, which might have frightened someone who didn’t know him well. “I love my sister, you know. If I had known Radcliff was harming her, I would have killed him.”

  It didn’t matter that she disliked Rhys. His pain still shot a knife to her heart. “I know. Aurora knew too. That’s why she made the three of us swear to never tell you. I cannot begin to count how many times I wanted to tell you the truth, but it was Aurora’s to tell, and she thought you would land in Bedlam or worse if you knew.”

  His jaw ticked, and his grip around her waist tightened. He maneuvered them around one of the pillars with dexterity and even kept Poppy on her feet. “She was probably correct. I wish I could raise Radcliff from the dead so I could strangle him now.”

  The heat of his hand on her back spread with their shared love for Aurora. “Do you think we’re foolish to think we can avoid Aurora’s fate?”

  “No. You cannot be forced to marry against your will. If you refuse, you may have issues with your parents, but better that then to be trapped with a villain. Besides, now you are under Rora’s roof and it will be easier to disobey.” He eased her closer just as she missed a step, righted her, and the breath went out of her. “Why is Rora sad?”

  Far too comfortable in his arms, she made the space between them an inch greater. “Because she wasted three years. Because she didn’t have a child. The only good thing she had hoped for was the beast to give her a baby to love, and he couldn’t even manage that. Now she’s a widow and damaged in ways that cannot be seen.” Poppy ached for her friend.