by Merry Farmer
“I don’t want one of the footmen or any old lad from town,” Poppy confessed. She couldn’t bring herself to continue to say that it was Nick she wanted.
Mrs. Harmon took hold of her shoulders and jerked Poppy to face her again. “My sweet girl. I know there’s someone out there for you. Lord help him,” she added with a chuckle.
Poppy smiled, then threw her arms around Mrs. Harmon’s meaty shoulders. “Thank you, Mrs. Harmon,” she said. She kissed her on the cheek, then skipped off through the kitchen door and out into the autumn sunshine.
She wasn’t entirely sure where Nick would be, but chances were, he’d be near the greenhouse. Her heart was light and her steps, well, reasonably light as she hurried through the gardens to the far corner, where the pretty flowerbeds and manicured yards gave way to more serviceable beds where Nick grew and tested plants for the formal gardens. Poppy spotted Nick’s outline beyond the foggy greenhouse windows and let out an excited squeal. She could do this. She could charm Nick into wanting to marry her.
The second she threw open the door to the greenhouse, a potted fern to her right tumbled off its shelf and smashed on the floor at her feet. Poppy stood there staring at it, feeling as though her insides were melting like candle wax.
“Sorry,” she said with a wince.
“Poppy?” Nick was at the other end of the greenhouse. He glanced up from whatever he was doing with a tray lined with pots no bigger than Poppy’s fist. The second his eyes met hers, he smiled. And when he glanced down to the smashed pot and its floundering fern…his smile widened even more. “Oh dear.”
The way he said those two syllables, his voice low and as rich as the soil at her feet, made shivers break out along Poppy’s spine. They coalesced in that secret spot that ached whenever she thought about Nick. It was lovely and exciting. However, the fact that she was too embarrassed to move a muscle wasn’t helping her mission at all.
“I didn’t mean to,” she sighed, holding her hands up, as if keeping them at her sides would dirty them, even though the destroyed plant was around her feet. “It just jumped off the shelf when I came in.”
“Ah, yes,” Nick said, striding up the long aisle from the other end of the greenhouse. “It’s a rare Peruvian Jumping Fern, after all.” His eyes sparkled, which raised a giggle in Poppy’s throat.
“There’s no such thing,” she laughed. “You’re teasing me.”
“Of course I’m teasing you.”
Nick reached her, scooping his arms around her waist and lifting her clear off the ground. She gasped, not so much in surprise, but because his arms felt so perfect around her, and the heat of his body made her ache even harder. He took her a few steps to the side, between the rows of waist-high tables lined with sprouts and potted plants. When he put her down, his hands stayed on her waist.
“Did you do something to your hair?” he asked, his smile glowing.
Poppy could have died and gone to heaven. He’d noticed. “Do you like it?” she asked tentatively, glancing up at him through her lashes.
He didn’t answer at first. He swayed subtly into her, his mouth going soft as if…as if he were about to kiss her. Poppy’s heart sped up, and she tilted her face to him, more ready to be kissed than she’d ever been.
But he held off, saying instead, “I do like it.” He raised a hand to cup one of her bouncy curls. And even though those hands were just a bit dirty, even though he smelled like compost and hard work instead of exotic spices, Poppy drew in a deep breath of him, closing her eyes.
“I love you, Nick,” she sighed.
Her eyes popped open, going wide. Had she really said that? Said it out loud?
Nick stared at her, watching her. The fire in his eyes flared, and his smile grew. It was devilish and enticing and genuine all at the same time. He moved his hand from her hair to cradle her face. His lips parted.
“I think we should get married,” she blurted before he could tell her she was a silly dreamer. “I think I would make a very good wife, especially if I was your wife. And I think that we could be happy together. I know I could make you happy.”
His smile widened, causing his eyes to dance with light. “I think you could too,” he whispered. His thumb stroked her cheek. He leaned closer.
“We would have a beautiful family. Lots of children. And I would love them and take care of them and raise them all to make you proud.”
“I’m sure you would.” The laughter was in his voice now as well as his eyes. He moved his hand from her waist to her back, pulling her closer, while his other hand continued to cradle her blazing-hot cheek.
“And I know there are a lot of things I’m not very good at,” she went on, her voice rising higher and higher, even as her knees went weak and her heart thumped against her chest, “But I would be so good at others. I just know I would. And—”
“Poppy.” He stopped her.
She was tense in his arms, her chest rising and falling rapidly, as though her heart wanted to leap right out of her and cling to Nick forever. “Yes?” she squeaked, her brow inching up.
He answered by closing the distance between them and slanting his mouth over hers. It was as if the sun had shattered above them, reigning drops of pure happiness around them.
Chapter 4
Her bones melted. Her skin tingled. It was as if her whole world had turned inside-out, but in the very best of ways. Nick’s mouth claimed hers. His tongue teased the seam of her lips, coaxing her to open up to him. She wanted nothing more than to be his in every way, forever. She parted her lips, and the fiery intensity of his kiss soared to heights she’d never imagined. His tongue slid along hers, tasting her in a way she never could have dreamed of.
She sighed, deep in her throat, and slid her arms up over his shoulders, threading her fingers through his hair. Everything about him was solid and masculine and wonderful. A shiver of longing passed through her as one of his hands dropped to caress her backside, pulling her closer to a part of him that was firm and warm. She might have been inexperienced, but she wasn’t ignorant. She knew what that meant, knew that he wanted her. She smiled into his kiss, wanting him just as badly in return. The foolish girl she tried not to be melted away into the woman she knew she could become in his arms.
“This is perfect,” she whispered as Nick trailed his kiss away from her lips to her cheek, and then down the line of her neck as she leaned back. “This is completely perfect.”
He hummed, sliding his hand up from her backside to cup her breast through the fabric of her uniform.
She sucked in a breath, her senses sizzling like fireworks. “I’ll be the best wife to you,” she said through panting breaths. “I’ll make you so happy, Nick. Happier than any man has ever been.”
He stopped kissing her and straightened. The sound he made was far more frustrated than sensual. Poppy had a moment of panic before she opened her eyes—she hadn’t realized she’d closed them—and stared into Nick’s pinched face.
“We can’t do this,” he sighed.
“What?” Her grip on his shoulders grew tense, then desperate as his eyes filled with regret. “Of course we can do this,” she said with a nervous laugh. “We’re going to be married, after all. I know you haven’t asked me yet, but you do want to marry me, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he answered with too much hesitation, pain in his eyes.
“Then it’s all right if we kiss,” she went on, her voice higher. “Married couples can do whatever they want, and people who are engaged do all sorts of things. No one will think less of us if we—”
“I can’t marry you, Poppy.”
Her world came to a screeching stop. He continued to hold her, but his arms were stiff and his brow furrowed. Poppy studied him with her mouth open, her mind not accepting what he’d just said.
“But…but you want to marry me,” she said, blinking fast as her eyes started to sting.
“I do,” he sighed. His body relaxed, but in the process, he let go of her and stepped away
. He paced to the side, rubbing a hand over his face.
Poppy felt cold and bereft without him. “I don’t understand. If you want to marry me, what’s stopping you?”
She dreaded the answer, especially when she saw that there was one. His face pinched, and his eyes held a grim combination of sorrow and guilt that caused prickles to break out on her skin. He paced a few more steps, then blew out a breath and walked deliberately back to her. He took her hands in his.
“I want to marry you, Poppy, but I’m already engaged to someone else.”
She frowned and shook her head. “No, you aren’t.”
His shoulder sagged. “Yes, I am.”
“Who?”
“I’m engaged to Mavis.” His expression grew slightly confused. “I thought you knew.”
Poppy let out an anxious laugh. “But Mavis is your sister.”
He raised an eyebrow as though something suddenly made sense. “No, she isn’t. She’s, well, technically she’s my fiancée.”
“But I thought she was your sister,” Poppy said as though all the wind had gone out of her sail. She let go of Nick’s hands and took a half-step back. “I’ve heard people talk about her in connection with you before, and….”
Nick clenched his jaw and let out a breath, running his hand through his hair. “Mavis is a maid who worked here years ago but works in London now. Years ago, we were, well, we were involved. It was a match that both of our families wanted. They still do.”
“Do you love her?” Poppy’s question came out as a squeak.
Nick winced. “I fancied myself in love with her four years ago. Enough to propose. She said yes, but then she was transferred to London.”
“You loved someone else.” She didn’t know why it hurt so much. Nick wasn’t a green boy. He was handsome and amiable, with a good job and strong prospects. Of course he’d been in love before. He could have any girl he wanted, and chances were that they fell at his feet when she wasn’t looking. Why would he choose her when he had the whole female population of the world to choose from?
She turned away, stepping over to a tray of seedlings that had only just sprouted. She felt as fragile as those tender stalks and twice as likely to wither.
“We all do foolish things when we’re young,” Nick said. “And we keep doing them when our families get involved. If I had known you would come along, I never would have gotten cozy with Mavis.”
“Oh, so you were cozy?” Poppy didn’t turn back to him. She didn’t want to see the truth in his eyes, and she didn’t want him to see how deeply it hurt her to know that there had been others. That there were others. It shouldn’t bother her. Men were men, and heaven only knew the lives they led. But Nick was special, or so she’d thought. Nick was hers.
But he wasn’t.
“I don’t know how to make this better,” he said, stepping slowly toward her. “I don’t know if it would help to say I don’t love her, that I haven’t loved her for years. I don’t know if telling you I’d marry you in a heartbeat, if I was free, if putting Mavis aside wouldn’t break my mother’s heart, will make things better or worse.”
Poppy did her best to smile, and turned toward him. “It makes things better,” she lied. She couldn’t hold onto her smile. “Thank you for telling me, at least. And before—” She gasped, flushing red with embarrassment and alarm. “Before she gets here. Oh heavens, Mavis is coming here. She’s coming back to Starcross Castle.”
“Yes,” Nick said lowering his head. “I’ve just had confirmation of that from my mum this morning. She came up to give me some seeds, and told me. She’s…she’s happy about it. I haven’t seen her smile like that in years.”
“Oh.” Poppy didn’t know what else to say. There didn’t seem to be anything to say. From the moment she’d met Nick all those years ago, when she was still a kitchen maid and he would bring vegetables from the estate’s gardens to Mrs. Harmon, he’d been engaged elsewhere. If she’d known, she never would have looked twice at him, never would have fallen in love with him, never would have had her heart broken. And she would have been poorer for it.
“I have to go,” she mumbled, pushing away from the table of seedlings and past him.
“Poppy, wait,” he called after her.
She didn’t want to listen to anything else he had to say. It would be too painful, she knew, but in spite of everything, she still loved him. She made it all the way to the greenhouse door, her hand on the handle, when she turned back to him.
“I do love you,” he said. The look in his eyes reflected all the pain in her heart. “I just want you to know that. I love you.”
Her throat closed up before she could tell him once more that she loved him. Her feet were stuck to the ground while the rest of her wanted to run to him.
“And who knows?” He shrugged. “Maybe there’s a way out of this.”
“Maybe,” she said, though her heart wilted all the same. She should have known better than to think that a silly, clumsy girl like her would end up married to a man as wonderful and handsome as Nick.
She threw open the greenhouse door and ran out into the garden, not knowing where she would go or what she would do. Miss Victoria didn’t need her again until it was time to dress for supper, and Felicity, the woman who had taken Ginny’s place as head maid, had given her a full hour off to take care of her business with Nick. Not that Poppy had told Felicity the urgent matter she needed to attend to was Nick. She felt listless, hopeless, lost.
Her steps slowed as she rounded the corner of the house, walking into the manicured French garden. Nick put so much care into everything he did for Starcross Castle that he seemed to follow her wherever she went. Which meant that once Mavis returned and Nick married her, she would never be able to get away from everything she’d lost.
She let out a mournful moan as she reached the far end of the house and the strange, walled garden where Lady Anne, Lord Peter’s first, unfortunate wife, was buried. There didn’t seem to be a more perfect place to mourn the loss of everything that could have been, so she dragged herself over to the raised stone slab of the tomb and plopped to sit on the edge, burying her face in her hands.
“Poppy? Was that you I heard?” Moments later, Ginny appeared around the corner of the garden’s wall.
Feeling wretched, Poppy looked up. “Oh, Ginny. All is lost,” she wailed.
Ginny rushed to her, a look that was both sympathetic and amused in her eyes. Poppy didn’t blame her for the amused part. She was a laughingstock now, and she knew it.
“Is this about Nick?” Ginny asked softly as she sat by Poppy’s side and looped an arm around her shoulder.
“He’s engaged to someone else,” Poppy sobbed, resting her head on her friend’s shoulder. “Mavis isn’t his sister, she’s his fiancée, and she’s coming back.”
“I know,” Ginny sighed. When Poppy straightened to look at her in shock, Ginny went on with, “Mrs. Wilson was just telling me about all of the London staff that is coming back to Starcross. She wants me to help train a few of the maids, if Lady Mariah can spare me. In the process, she mentioned Mavis. I thought he was Nick’s sister too, since I came to work here after she left, but Mrs. Wilson set me straight.”
A horrible thought occurred to Poppy, and she glanced up, her throat squeezing. “You don’t think Mrs. Wilson and…and the rest of the staff knows that I’ve been such a fool over Nick, do you?”
Ginny bit her lip. That was all the answer Poppy needed. She slumped forward, burying her face in her hands again.
“Oh, this is humiliating. Everyone knows how big of a ninny I’ve been. I’ll never live this down. And Nick will marry someone else on top of it all.”
“There, there.” Ginny rubbed Poppy’s back. “Things might not be as bad as all that.”
“You always say that, but it always is,” Poppy sniffled. She wanted to have hope, but part of her needed to be miserable.
Ginny hugged her more closely. “Let’s look at this logically. From what
I understand, Nick asked that Mavis woman to marry him at least four years ago. Long before you or I came here.”
“True,” Poppy said, straightening and wiping her eyes with the hem of her apron. “But Nick is a good and honorable man. And his mother wants him to marry Mavis. He seems to think it would break her heart if he didn’t. He wouldn’t end an engagement just because he doesn’t fancy the woman anymore under those circumstances.”
“Maybe not,” Ginny said, smoothing Poppy’s hair—which she now felt ridiculous for curling. “But what if Mavis doesn’t want to marry him? Even amongst the aristocratic class, a woman can call off an engagement up until the last minute.”
Poppy frowned. “But it still causes a scandal. And we’re definitely not aristocrats.”
“All the better, then,” Ginny laughed. “We could all be getting upset about nothing.”
“I suppose so,” Poppy sighed. Her throat continued to squeeze and her heart to feel as though it were full of holes, though. “But this whole fiasco just serves to show that I shouldn’t have given myself airs by thinking Nick Parsons would fancy me.”
“Is that what this is all about?” Ginny asked gently. “You don’t think you’re good enough for Nick?”
Poppy’s shoulders sagged. “I’m not, am I? I’m not pretty or clever. I can’t do anything fancy. I’ve made some terrible mistakes in my past and trusted all the wrong people.”
“But you have a good heart,” Ginny insisted, taking her hands. “That’s what Nick sees. That’s all that matters. We don’t know what this Mavis person is like.”
“True,” Poppy admitted reluctantly.
“And what kind of woman would run off to work in London as soon as she became engaged to a man like Nick?”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” A glimmer of hope formed in Poppy’s gut.
“And stay away for four whole years,” Ginny went on. “If you ask me, I don’t think this Mavis woman really wants to marry Nick at all.”
“You don’t?”
