by Merry Farmer
His weight above her was crushing and beautiful. She could have laid there with him like that forever, but within moments, he rolled to the side, panting and sweaty. She rolled with him, not realizing she needed to catch her breath until she gasped, her chest heaving. She blinked rapidly, a smile spreading across her face. Her life had just changed. Changed in an instant. Changed for the better.
Her body ached in a different way now, spent and used. It was the most wonderful sensations she could have imagined. She was hot and felt as wrung out as a rag, but at last, everything was right.
“I….” she began, struggling to catch her breath. “I love you, N—”
“Nick!”
His name didn’t come from her lips, but from Mavis’s, in a high, furious shout.
Poppy yelped as though cold water had been splashed over her and tried to sit, but her body was too tangled with Nick’s.
He did manage to sit, though, bringing her with him, and together the two of them faced the furious, red face of Mavis…and the pale, shocked older woman who stood beside her in the doorway.
Nick scrambled to pull the coverlet around them, his cheeks burning red. “Mum,” he croaked. “What are you doing here?”
Chapter 8
Panic flooded Poppy. She pushed away from Nick, tumbling off the side of the bed in her haste to retrieve her clothes from the bureau where she’d folded them before donning Miss Victoria’s nightgown. Her heart throbbed so hard in her throat that she thought she might be sick. But not because of Mavis.
“How dare you?” Mavis shrieked, advancing on Nick, who still sat on the bed, frantically tucking the coverlet around his waist. “And with your mother here.”
Poppy swallowed hard as she clutched her uniform dress to her shivering body. Nick’s mother took a step back, pale and shaking. She averted her eyes from her son, but in the process looked straight at Poppy. In all her years at Starcross Castle, Poppy had never met Mrs. Parsons. Nick’s father had died before she came to work for Lord Peter, and Mrs. Parsons had moved back to her childhood home. The older woman bore a strong resemblance to Nick, but with softer, faded features. It struck Poppy that if they’d met under any other circumstances, she would have liked the woman.
Her observations happened within a second as Mavis continued to rail at Nick. “How dare you?” she repeated, reaching the side of the bed and attempting to smack him. He raised an arm to fend her off, but her hand slapped against his bicep with a resounding clap. “You’re mine, Nick Parsons, mine! How dare you bed another woman. We were walking together an hour ago.”
The revelation snagged Poppy’s attention. She glanced away from Mrs. Parsons—who was now turning beet-red after what Poppy could only assume was her initial shock wearing off—and stared at Nick.
“What I do with my time is none of your business, Mavis,” Nick defended himself, standing. The coverlet formed a long skirt around him that would have made Poppy laugh, if the situation hadn’t been so embarrassingly dire.
“No it isn’t,” Mavis protested. “Not when you’re about to become my husband.”
“I tried to talk to you about that.” Nick took a step toward her, his brow knitting into a frown.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Mavis rushed on. For half a second, Poppy thought Mavis would call her engagement to Nick off. But that hope was instantly dashed as Mavis charged on with, “You made a promise to me. Our mothers made a promise to each other. You’re not backing out of a marriage that everyone on both sides of our families wants.”
“Mavis, I—”
“Tell him,” Mavis ordered Mrs. Parsons.
Poppy flinched at the way Mavis spoke to the older woman.
Mrs. Parsons stood straighter, blinking incredulously at Mavis. “My dear, perhaps now is not the time to discuss this matter,” she said.
“Now is the time,” Mavis contradicted her. “I brought you here so that you and I could plan this wedding with Nick’s full participation. The bans only need to be read one more time. We will be married within a week if it’s the last thing I ever do.”
Mrs. Parsons stepped closer to Mavis, resting a motherly hand on her arm while trying to avoid looking at her son. “Let’s give Nick and his…” she cleared her throat, “friend a moment to compose themselves.”
“No.” Mavis yanked away from her.
At the same time, Poppy said, “I’m so, so sorry, Mrs. Parsons.” She had put on her drawers, chemise, and petticoat as Mavis raged and took a step toward Nick’s mother, her hands clasped in front of her. “This is all just a terrible misunderstanding.”
Mrs. Parsons looked her up and down, tilting her nose up and pursing her lips. “Nicholas, who is this woman?”
Nick let out a breath and stepped over to Poppy’s side. “Mum, this is Poppy Miller. She works as a maid at Starcross Castle, and she is currently serving as Miss Victoria Travers’ lady’s maid. And I love her.”
Everything in the room went still. Mavis held her breath, her fists clenched at her sides, her face turning red. Mrs. Parsons’ brow flew up as she gave Poppy another once-over. Poppy’s insides wriggled, and prickles broke out along her skin. She desperately wanted to make a good impression on Nick’s mother, but under the current circumstances, there wasn’t even a slim chance that she would. The older woman would have no choice at all but to see her as a strumpet and a woman of low character.
And perhaps she was. She’d let herself into the house of a man she wasn’t married to. She’d dressed to entice him. And when he’d come home and found her waiting for him, she hadn’t protested or sought to secure any sort of promise, like a good girl would. She’d flopped to her back and spread her legs for a man who was engaged to marry someone else, and had enjoyed being with him the way a whore would. Her heart tried to tell her that it wasn’t any man, it was Nick, but every other part of her shouted with condemnation.
Poppy lowered her head. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. It felt too cowardly not to face what she’d done, so she looked up, meeting Mrs. Parsons’ eyes. “I love your son, I do,” she confessed. “But I was wrong to succumb to that love while he’s engaged to another woman.”
“No, you weren’t,” Nick contradicted her. He reached for her, but Poppy stepped away, sending him an apologetic look. “Poppy,” he appealed to her.
“It was wrong,” she said softly. Beautiful, amazing, beyond any dream she’d ever had, but she couldn’t say that aloud. Not now. She turned back to Mrs. Parsons, working to ignore Mavis’s furious and supercilious stare. “I’m so sorry you had to see…what you saw, ma’am. I…that is, Miss Victoria….” She shook he head. It wouldn’t be right to blame Miss Victoria for suggesting she seduce Nick. The blame fell squarely on her shoulders. “I just wanted one beautiful memory,” she said at last, tears stinging her eyes.
“What right does an ugly tart like—”
“Enough.” Mrs. Parsons’ raised her voice enough to cut Mavis off. She raised a hand to her temple as though warding off a headache. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips together. “You say you love my son, but you have disrespected the promise that he made to Mavis.”
“I don’t love Mavis, Mum,” Nick cut in. “I…I never really have.”
Mrs. Parsons opened her eyes, glancing to her son with shock and hurt. “You never told me that.”
“It’s true.” Nick sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.
“It isn’t true,” Mavis shouted, her eyes wide and wild. “Nick loves me. He always has. We’ve been engaged for four years. We wouldn’t have had any trouble at all if not for this little trollop.” She flung a hand at Poppy.
“I’m sorry,” Poppy said once more. It didn’t seem to be doing any good, but she couldn’t think of anything that would make the situation any less awful than it was. She slipped her grey dress over her head and did up the buttons. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
“Oh, no?” Mavis glared at her. “Nick didn’t mention anything about m
eeting you here when we were together just an hour ago, which leads me to believe that this was all your doing.”
Poppy lowered her head, unable to contradict her. It was her doing. She glanced to the corner of the room, where Miss Victoria’s nightgown and robe sat in a silky pile. It didn’t seem wise to draw attention to them by retrieving them now.
“I’ll go.” She grabbed her shoes and stockings, tucking them under her arm. She’d put them on once she was outside. As she passed Mrs. Parsons and reached the door, she paused and turned to them. “I won’t stand in the way of what you and your friend have been planning since Nick and Mavis were children.”
Mrs. Parsons blinked in surprise. “We were barely more than children then ourselves.”
“This is your dream,” Poppy said with a shrug. “And….” She licked her lips and lowered her head, unable to look at Nick as she continued. “There’s a fisherman down in Mousehole, where I’m from, who says he’ll marry me. So don’t worry for my sake.” She spoke to Nick, but kept her gaze downcast. “I’ll be all right in the end.” Even if it would break her heart forever to walk away from Nick. At least she’d tried. At least she had one beautiful memory to carry with her.
“I’m sorry,” she said one last time. It took every ounce of effort she had to drag her eyes up to meet Nick’s. Her chest squeezed painfully at the look of devastation in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered once more before turning to run out of his house.
“Poppy,” Nick called, taking a step to follow Poppy as she fled.
He didn’t make it far. Mavis stepped into his path, planting a hand on his chest to stop him. “Don’t you dare go after her,” she growled. “You’re staying right here and explaining yourself.”
Nick ached to rush after Poppy, to demand she tell him who the fisherman she thought she was going to marry was, and to clasp her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right. The coverlet was coming loose around his waist, though, and his mother still couldn’t quite look him in the eye.
He took a step back and scowled at Mavis. “There’s nothing to explain. What you interrupted is between me and Poppy and no one else.”
“You’re days away from being my husband,” Mavis protested, planting her fists on her hips. “I think I have a say in it.”
There was no gentle way out of the situation. Hearts would be broken one way or another. “I don’t love you, Mavis. I haven’t for a while. And I’m sorry, Mum, but I want to marry Poppy, not Mavis.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Mavis gasped. “I refuse to hear this. I refuse to accept that the two of us won’t be together.” The alarm in her eyes went far beyond being jilted. It filled Nick with suspicion.
“You still want me?” he asked. The instinct to play his cards close to his chest was overwhelming. He couldn’t shake the feeling he was missing something obvious.
“Of course, I still want you,” Mavis said, halfway between a laugh and a cry of frustration. “We’re meant to be together. It’s what our mothers have wanted for decades.” She gestured toward Nick’s mother.
“Well, now,” his mum began, smoothing a hand over her skirt, clearly embarrassed beyond measure. “Perhaps this is something we should sit down and talk about.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Mavis huffed. “Nick and I are engaged. It’s what you want and what my mother wants. Everyone wants this except for you and some shameless strumpet.”
“You will not speak of Poppy that way.” Nick raised his voice, ashamed that he couldn’t control his temper when his mum was looking on. “Poppy is a kind, gentle, sweet girl who would never do anything to hurt anyone. She—” He blew out a breath. “She probably felt as though coming here and doing what she did was her last resort.”
“What do you mean?” Mavis scowled, crossing her arms.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Nick said, speaking to himself as much as to his mum and Mavis. “Poppy loves me. I love her. But I’m engaged to you. She knows that, and she knows that this match is something you have wanted for ages, Mum. Poppy probably thought the last chance she had to win the man she loves was to gamble everything.”
His voice faded into a painful silence, and he winced. He should have known. He should have seen what she was doing. He was a bastard of the worst sort to have taken advantage of her when she was at her weakest. His stomach turned at the thought of everything Poppy had lost in her attempt to champion love. She’d been far braver than he could imagine, coming to him the way she did, and he’d callously taken what he wanted without thinking about the consequences. And now another man would have her for the rest of her life.
“I can’t do this,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t marry a woman I don’t love to make other people happy.”
“You can,” Mavis said, going rigid. “You will.”
“How can you even want that?” Nick asked. “After all this, how do you still want me?”
Mavis gaped, and the sound that came out of her mouth wasn’t words at first. “It’s what everyone wants,” she argued. “Your mother and mine.”
“I’m not so sure—”
“It’s what everybody wants,” Mavis cut Nick’s mum off. “My reputation will be in tatters if you back out. You’ll be making a fool of your mother. Do you really want to do that?”
“No, but—”
“Perhaps, my boy, you should get dressed before we discuss this in greater detail,” Nick’s mum said, managing to command attention without raising her voice. She turned to Mavis. “Go into the kitchen, dear, and fix us all some tea.” She glanced to Nick. “And you, put some trousers on.”
The derision in his mum’s voice was almost comical, but Nick was in no mood to laugh. By some miracle, Mavis did as she was told and marched out of the room. Nick’s mum followed, and he shut the door behind them. He took a moment to hang his head, feeling horrible on every level for the mess that had been made. There had to be a way to make things up to Poppy. Marrying her, for one. The more Mavis protested that the two of them had to be together, the more Nick felt like digging in his heels and refusing. It all hinged on what his mum thought.
With a bitter laugh, he pushed away from the door, tossed the coverlet back on his bed, and gathered up his clothes. He was a grown man of thirty, and the decision of his lifetime hinged on what his mother thought. Harry would laugh at him. Every man he knew would poke fun of him forever. But his mum was the light of his life—besides Poppy—and he would do a great many things to avoid causing her pain. But was marrying Mavis one of them?
He spotted Poppy’s tempting silk shift and robe on his way to the door after dressing and bent to pick them up, holding them to his face. They belonged to Miss Victoria, but Poppy’s scent was all over them. He breathed it in before taking them to his bureau and stashing them in the top drawer.
Surprisingly, Mavis was gone when he stepped out into the main room of his tiny cottage.
“Where did she go?” he asked his mum, who was bustling around the kitchen, fixing tea.
“Back to work, I suppose,” his mum said, still not looking at him.
Nick winced. “Mum, I’m sorry you had to see what she saw.
She brushed his apology away, focusing on the tea things in front of her. “I know my son is a grown man with grown man’s parts and desires.” She cleared her throat, and Nick could see her face go pink, even though she tried to hide it from him. “Still, I didn’t need to be reminded of it quite like that.”
“Poppy really is the most wonderful woman.” He stepped up to the counter, trying to help, but his mother batted him away. “I’m sure if the two of you had met in other circumstances, you would love her as much as I do.”
His mum glanced sideways at him. “Maybe.” Her lips were tight as she spoke. “She did comport herself the way a girl in her situation should when she was caught.”
Nick frowned. He wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or scolding. “I love her.”
“So you say,�
�� his mum said. She fetched a cloth to wrap around the handle of the steaming kettle on his stove so that she could pour it into his simple, crockery teapot. “Are you sure you’re thinking with the proper head where that girl is concerned?”
Thirty or not, he felt her reprimand as though he’d been caught stealing pies from the windowsill. “Yes, mum. I love her. And if it helps, we’ve never done that before.”
She looked sideways at him as she set the kettle down and put the lid on the teapot. “You’re willing to throw away an engagement to a nice, pretty girl whom our family has known since the two of you were in nappies for a maid who would toss you over to marry a fisherman at the first sign of trouble?”
Nick grimaced. He hadn’t heard a thing about this fisherman bastard until Poppy mentioned him, which told him that it was a new development. “I don’t love Mavis,” he said. “We’ve lived apart for four years. I’m not sure I loved her to begin with. I just wanted to make you happy.”
His mother hummed and carried the tray with the tea things to the tiny table and sat, inviting him to join her. “Never you mind my happiness,” she said, pouring his tea. “A mother’s greatest happiness comes from her children being happy.”
“So you’d be happy if I set Mavis free and married Poppy, because I love her?” He studied her closely, practically holding his breath as he awaited her answer.
She took a long time answering. Painfully long. “Alice would be disappointed,” she said, referring to Mavis’s mother.
She didn’t say anything else for a long time. Nick took his tea and sipped it while she fixed hers. He knew his mum well enough to see she was thinking things over seriously. He knew the lines of her face so well, had seen them form over the years, especially after his father had died. Every son wanted his mother to have all the happiness in the world, and it had always hurt him that his mum had been so unhappy in the last few years. But he knew she’d love Poppy, if she would just give her a chance.
