The Earl Not Taken Read online

  A creased formed between his eyes. “I refuse to believe she cannot recover from this.”

  “You asked me why she is sad. I didn’t say I believed all of what she’s feeling is true.”

  One last turn and the music ended. The warmth of Rhys’s smile shot a lightning bolt through Poppy, and she had to remind herself to breathe. Whatever had just passed between them, it was only a momentary lapse. “Thank you for the dance, Lady Penelope. I will see if I can gain an introduction to His Grace and find you later to compare notes.”

  Somehow her given name suddenly sounded nicer coming from his full lips. Making a curtsy, she said, “I wish you luck.”

  As they separated, Poppy wandered toward a large fireplace. Being out of Rhys’s arms left her with a chill she struggled to shake but determined it was some slight ailment trying to claim her. It couldn’t be anything else. She had always hated Rhys Draper with all of her being. The only thing that had changed in six years was now he was bigger, with a grander title, and more women would throw themselves at him. His only saving graces were his love for Aurora and his willingness to help the Wallflowers, though she still questioned his motives for helping. It was maddening when he was nice and easy to speak to.

  Faith sauntered over, frowning. “He has no manners at all. All he spoke of was some property he’s trying to convert into a four-crop rotation or some such nonsense. I asked about his travels, and he wouldn’t tell me a single thing. He hushed as if I’d asked for admittance to see the prince.”

  “His lack of details about his travels is interesting. There must be some mystery there. Rhys couldn’t uncover anything either. I wonder what the big secret is.” Poppy turned her back to Decklan Garrott, a young man who often sought out her attention and with whom she had no interest. “I will have to dance with this nit. Will you be all right?”

  Wide eyed, Faith spotted Decklan over Poppy’s shoulder. “Yes, of course. But I wanted to ask about you dancing the waltz with Rhys. You two danced very well together.”

  “Ha! I stepped on his toes no less than three times.”

  Faith shrugged. “That’s quite good for you.”

  “A ruse to keep people from thinking it odd we were chatting so intently at the edge of the dance floor.”

  “It didn’t look like a ruse.” Faith’s voice took on a singsong quality.

  “Lady Penelope, may I have the next dance?” Decklan stepped into the small space next to them and bowed low.

  Turning on a sigh, she had no excuse to offer. “Hello, Mr. Garrott. I would be charmed to dance with you.”

  So with no other choice and a farewell giggle from Faith, Poppy danced the quadrille with a very stupid man who really did like her but who she could never like. She managed the feat without falling or making too much of a fool of herself. A minor miracle.

  The moment the dance ended she found a quiet corner to hide from the crowd and her mother. Faith sat with a group of women, including her mother, and might be about to cry with boredom. Before she had time to catch her breath, Rhys strode over with Faith’s duke in tow. “Lady Penelope, may I introduce my new friend Nicholas Ellsworth, the Duke of Breckenridge. Lady Penelope is a close friend of my family’s.”

  With a slight nod and a wry smile, Breckenridge said, “The lady and I have already been introduced. I had no idea your acquaintance was so vast, Lady Penelope.”

  “Oh yes, Your Grace, I have many dear friends. If you had not been out of England for so long perhaps you might count yourself among their numbers.” She was flirting, but perhaps it was one way to discover his character.

  Rhys’s face turned red, and he mumbled something under his breath.

  “I’m certain that would be the case. Perhaps we should dance to begin our acquaintance?”

  Lord but Nicholas was charming. Faith might be in trouble. “I would be delighted.” Taking his arm, she walked with him to the dance floor.

  A moment into the dance, he said, “I take it you are a particular friend of Lady Faith’s.”

  “Yes, we went to Miss Agatha’s School together. You know, the school for girls who scoff at society’s rules.” She refused to be cowed by his title or his inquiry.

  His lips twitched, and she thought he might laugh. “I meant it as a compliment, though it seems it was not taken as such.”

  “On the contrary, Your Grace. We Wormbattle girls are fond of crossing wits with any manner of man who dares challenge us. I admit I was a spirited youth who didn’t always do as I was told. I often escaped our home to see a show or a traveling circus. I enjoyed the company of the farmer’s daughters more than that of the stuffy gentry in our neighborhood. For my heinous crimes, I was packed off to Switzerland for three years. I’m sure my parents thought it a fitting punishment, and it might have been so if I had not met three other young criminals who made the adventure worth taking.” Poppy watched his expression change from pity to admiration, and she pushed down the notion of liking the Duke of Breckenridge. This was the man trying to steal Faith from them. He was the enemy.

  “I assume Lady Faith was among those three?”

  The dance moved her out of his hearing for several turns but then back to him. “She was.”

  “And what were her crimes?” His expression remained soft and without malice.

  “You will have to ask Faith for that information if you really want to know. I have only my own secrets to divulge, Your Grace.” Unsure of how he’d managed to investigate her instead of the other way around, Poppy swallowed down the effects of his charm, and counted out the time of the dance before she made a fool of herself. “What of you, Your Grace? You have been out of England for many years. What manner of trouble did you get yourself into and why have you come back now?”

  The crooked smile returned. “I traveled about the Continent until it was time to come home and do my duty. I’m no different than any other young rake ready to settle down.”

  It was not quite a lie, but Poppy could tell it was not the truth either. There was something about the way his neck colored and his eyes lost their humor that told her he was not telling the truth. “Is that so? Rakish young men all return to England to settle down after writing a dozen letters to the mother of a young woman whom they have never met? Rakish young men propose marriage via those same letters? I must say, I have been acquainted with several rogues and rakes and have never heard of this type of action being taken from abroad. What was it about my dear friend that made you think she was the one woman who might make you happy?”

  The music ended too soon, and he bowed over her hand. “Thank you for the dance, Lady Penelope.”

  “I prefer Poppy, Your Grace. If you are going to court Faith, you may as well get used to me too.” It was a risk to have given so much information, but sometimes one had to get closer to the enemy in order to strike the killing blow.

  As he stared for a long moment, skepticism then amusement faded in and out of his eyes. “My friends call me Nick or Nicholas. Perhaps you would do me the honor, Poppy?”

  She made a pretty curtsy and allowed him to return her to the edge of the ballroom where Faith waited, and he asked her for the next dance.

  Frowning, Faith took his arm and they disappeared into the crush of dancers.

  “You seemed very cozy dancing with Breckenridge.” The tone of Rhys’s voice grated and filled with something Poppy hadn’t heard before. It might have been jealousy, but that wasn’t likely.

  “He’s not what I imagined. Not like any other duke I’ve ever met.”

  Closing the gap between them, he moved so he stood over her, and her face was only inches from his chest. Poppy had to crane her neck to look at him; his anger was palpable. “Are you in love with him?”

  It took her several beats to translate what had to be a mistake. Perhaps Rhys had lost his mind. She blinked, hoping to clear her head of the nonsense. “Are you mad? First of all, I’ve only just met the man. Second, I’m not inclined to love anyone romantically at this time or ever. Third and finally, he is for Faith, not me, so my only interest is in the strength of his character.”

  Rhys took a step back, and his expression smoothed. “I see. Well, it was an honest mistake with the way you were talking about him.”

  “I don’t see how. I merely said he’s not what I expected. He’s unconventional. That doesn’t mean he’s not a monster. We still need to find out his opinions on women, animals, servants—and we need to know what he was up to for the last few years.” Poppy had no idea why she had divulged so much to Rhys about herself. She’d only meant to discredit his assumption, but she’d managed to vomit out her lack of desire for men in general.

  “Animals and servants?” He crossed his arms over her broad chest and leaned against the wall, looking out over the ballroom.

  Taking a similar stance, she breathed deep. She had to explain everything to him. “Yes. If a man is kind to his servants and loves animals, it shows sympathy and empathy for others no matter their station. For instance, my father has seven maids working in his house and I can promise you, he doesn’t know the names of five of them. Those women have worked for him for ten years, but he never bothered to learn their names. He ignores them. Mother makes sure there are no attractive women working in the house so Father will keep his hands to himself under their roof. Whatever he does outside, she chooses to ignore.”

  Again, she had told him too much. Something about the way he listened without judgment made her tongue loose. Her cheeks heated, and she searched for some way to extricate herself from his company.

  Turning his head just enough to catch her gaze, he asked, “Is that why you are not inclined to love anyone romantically?”

  Poppy pulled back her shoulders and kept her chin up. “It is one reason.”

  “Not every man behaves like your father, Penelope. Some men take their vows quite seriously.”

  “Spoken like the rake you are. You would no more be faithful to one woman than you would dance naked in Piccadilly Square.”

  He unfolded his arms and turned to face her. “For the moment I’m going to put aside your mention of me dancing naked, though I’m interested to find out how you imagine such a thing. Why do you suppose I wouldn’t be faithful to someone to whom I pledge my troth?”

  Cheeks on fire, she wanted to hide behind the heavy draperies. How had she gotten herself into such a topic with such a man? “I am not discussing this with you. This is not the time or the place. Pledge your troth, by Medusa’s snakes.”

  Head cocked, he narrowed his eyes. “You insult me in the basest way, then refuse to back up those accusations? I thought you had more grit than that, Penelope. And where do these ridiculous phrases come from?”

  “Stop calling me that!” Her temper flared.

  “Why? Why do you hate your name so vehemently?” He leaned forward until his nose was only inches from hers.

  A group of men had turned to gape when she raised her voice. Now several other parties were watching them.

  Poppy stepped away and spoke in the barest whisper. “That is none of your business.”

  It was the coward’s way out, but she ran from the ballroom and out into the cool night. What she needed was a long walk in the garden and as much space between herself and Rhys Draper as possible.

  Chapter 4

  Rhys closed his mouth and watched Poppy run out of the ballroom. Her lavender gown billowed like clouds behind her. Her shoulders pulled tight, almost to her ears, as she clutched her fists to her sides. He had no idea why she had gotten so upset. He was the one who had been insulted. She’d said he was incapable of being faithful. Granted, her father was notoriously loose, but what did that have to do with him?

  She had never liked him, he knew, but he hadn’t realized her opinion of him was so terrible. It was likely her opinion of all men, and he shouldn’t take it personally, but the way she said he would run about after marriage grated on him.

  Brooding in the corner, he couldn’t shake the sting of Poppy’s bad opinion. He’d watched partygoers laughing and talking around him. The musicians signaled they would begin again, and a large group stepped onto the dance floor for La Boulangere. Couples formed groups of eight. The light, upbeat music should have put him in a better mood, but he couldn’t shake his malaise.

  Faith walked over and smiled. Folding her hands in front of her, she scanned the room before bringing her attention back to him. “Why do you look so mean?”

  Masking his emotional state with a practiced calm expression, he asked, “Why does Penelope dislike me so much?”

  There was something about the way Faith fidgeted that made Rhys uncomfortable. She was the most practical of his sister’s friends. She at least made an effort to comply with society’s rules, though she didn’t always succeed. Her physical attributes were often spoken about behind closed doors among the men, and Rhys had on two occasions censured young men for their comments. Faith was a sweet girl and deserved respect.

  Poppy’s more gentle curves and the way they might feel distracted him, and he almost missed Faith’s response.

  “I think you will have to ask her, Rhys. Wallflowers never gossip about each other.”

  “Is it gossip to tell me why someone dislikes me so intensely? I always thought we were just oil and water and didn’t mix, but tonight I have learned it is more than that. She truly hates me, thinks I’m a man of no character. I shouldn’t care. Penelope Arrington is nothing to me save my sister’s friend. Yet I’m confounded by her rancor.”

  Faith sighed and patted his arm. “Then I suggest you find a quiet moment to ask Poppy about her feelings.”

  He laughed. “She is not very forthcoming.”

  “You may have to be patient.” Her gaze flitted across the room.

  Rhys followed her gaze and spotted the Duke of Breckenridge, several inches taller than anyone else in the crowd, sneaking along the far wall and out the garden doors. He had obtained his overcoat, but leaving through the back was unusual. “Stay here, or better yet, find your mother and stay near her. I’ll follow your duke.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Rhys walked out the nearest door to the garden. Keeping to the shadows, he followed the sharp footsteps on the cobbled path. The moon gave plenty of light, and several torches had been lit along the path, giving the garden a sense of the primitive. The boxwoods were thick and green, affording him ample cover.

  Breckenridge kept his gaze forward as he hurried to the farthest corner of the gardens where several evergreens stood sentinel, creating a wall of trees. Pushing his hands into his pockets, he scanned the area in every direction.

  The tall bushes were the perfect place for Rhys to remain hidden yet retain a view of the duke’s activities. He felt a bit guilty for spying, but his new acquaintance gave the impression of a man with something to hide. Too bad, since on first meeting, Rhys had liked Breckenridge and thought him a fine match for Faith. He was smart, rich, and somewhat unorthodox, which might suit Faith despite her constant attempts to appear staid and formal. The truth was, none of his sister’s friends were typical debutantes. They had keen minds and adventurous souls. Nothing like what most titled men wanted in a wife.

  Perhaps his sister and the other Wallflowers were right to investigate the duke further. A man whose past was a mystery and acted as if he had many secrets might not be the best choice of husband. It might turn out to be nothing, but there was no way he would let another woman fall victim because of an opportunistic parent. If his own father were still alive, he’d be tempted to call him out for forcing Aurora into a dangerous marriage.

  He didn’t know how he was going to live with the knowledge he’d been ignorant of her situation. Somehow, he should have known her marriage was more than a bad match. He’d known she disliked Radcliff but thought it was because the man was a fool not a beast.

  Taking a breath, he focused on the task at hand. Finding out if Breckenridge’s secrets made him a threat was his mission, and he would not fail.

  The greenery rustled, and he slipped into a break in the shrubbery. Whoever drew close stopped inches from Rhys’s hiding place. The familiar scent of lilacs and Poppy’s warmth reached him. The foolish woman was going to get herself in trouble.

  Breckenridge’s attention was focused toward the back of the garden.

  Easing forward, Rhys clasped his hand over Poppy’s mouth and dragged her back into his niche. “It’s me. Be still and don’t scream.” Whispering against her ear engulfed him in the heady scent uniquely Poppy. His lips touched the soft skin behind her ear, and his body reacted with violent desire.

  Poppy relaxed, which molded her back against his front.

  He removed his hand from her mouth but kept the other around her waist. Knowing he should put space between this maddening woman and himself didn’t seem to mean a thing when she was soft and pliant in his arms.

  Movement at the back of the garden stopped anything Poppy might have said as they both watched a stocky man with black cropped hair and olive skin slip out from between the evergreens. He was dressed for the evening with a smart suit and crisp white cravat tied to perfection with a dramatic flair. Draped across his shoulders was a long, layered cloak, which fanned out like a cape when he walked.

  Poppy gasped.

  The man turned in their direction. “Were you followed, Your Grace?” he asked in a thick foreign accent.

  Looking around, Breckenridge shrugged. “Doubtful anyone inside cares a fig for what I might do in the garden. I’m simply a duke out to get away from the crush and enjoy the night air. No one would think anything different. Do you have the maps, Geb?”