Fall from Trace

by Rebecca Connolly

  “That’s a serious expression, Miss Edgewood,” Mrs. Blaine commented as she somehow appeared at Poppy’s side. “Are you well?”

  Poppy smiled at the woman, making it as genuine as possible. “Quite well, Mrs. Blaine, thank you for asking.”

  Mrs. Blaine’s expression was suspicious and not at all convinced. “You were frowning quite fixedly.”

  “It’s only…” Poppy trailed off with a sigh.

  “Yes?”

  Poppy looked at the older woman forlornly. “I wish there were a more equal number of men to women at this assembly. One does feel so self-conscious standing during a dance.”

  Mrs. Blaine nodded sympathetically, the large feathers in her hair bobbing. “I understand completely, dear. But you have danced tonight, haven’t you?”

  “I have, yes,” she replied, taking a glass of punch from a footman passing. “Twice with my cousin, once each with Mr. Hartley, Mr. Simmons, and Mr. Beech.”

  “Oh, a fine number for a spinster such as yourself!” Mrs. Blaine praised, clapping her hands. “You must be so pleased.”

  Poppy bit back a snarl and smiled further. “Yes, quite. I’d forgotten how much I adore dancing.”

  Mrs. Blaine turned more fully to her, fanning herself with an old ebony and ivory fan, though the room was cool.

  “I tell you what, Miss Edgewood,” she began conspiratorially. “If you spent less time on that farm of yours and more time out and about, you might yet get a husband for yourself.”

  “Indeed?” Poppy inquired as politely as possible. “At my advanced age?”

  She received a firm nod in return. “Despite that unruly and vile-colored hair of yours. You have a pretty face still, though not as fair now as it once was. There are men who would yet take you, if you’d be amenable. It really would be best for you.”

  Poppy stared at Mrs. Blaine, wondering what in the world possessed the woman to insult Poppy while trying to be encouraging, as she instructed her on finding a husband as though she truly knew best. Or cared about what was best for Poppy.

  “And what of my farm, Mrs. Blaine?” Poppy asked, somehow still smiling. “What will become of my farm if I venture out to be more social?”

  “Why, your workers would see to it,” Mrs. Blaine said with a flick of her fan. “You hire a foreman to mind it, or whatever the proper position is, and you don’t even have to think about the blasted business. All you would need to do would be to reap the benefits and make your prospects even more appealing to potential suitors.”

  Poppy’s smile turned to more of a snarl, though Mrs. Blaine didn’t seem to notice. “I work my farm as well as the workers I hire, Mrs. Blaine.”

  Mrs. Blaine’s eyes widened. “That won’t do at all, Miss Edgewood. It’s bad enough you have your cousin to stay with you without a chaperone, but to be laborious yourself?”

  The mention of Alex made Poppy stiffen, and her snarling smile faded as she prepared to say something she may have cause to regret tomorrow or the next day once she thought on it properly.

  “Come, cousin, I reserved this dance, as you recall,” Alex’s voice said jauntily near her right ear, and her arm was suddenly tugged before she could say anything.

  Poppy glared up at him.

  “I have a drink in my hand, cousin, and I wasn’t done with her.”

  Alex returned her glare playfully.

  “Drink up then, or Mrs. Blaine will find something else to say about you, and I really don’t think you ought to go after her in such a public place.”

  Poppy ground her teeth, then downed the remaining punch quickly, making a face as she did so.

  “Oh, that’s really not that good.”

  “Doesn’t surprise you, does it?” he quipped, plucking the cup from her and handing it off to someone else. “Now, forget what the biddy said and look as though you’re enjoying yourself. Make a good show of it.”

  Poppy quirked a brow at him as she curtseyed with the ladies a little dramatically.

  “Only if you do, Mr. Turner.”

  “I plan to,” he informed her with a deep bow.

  The musicians struck up a jaunty tune, and Poppy moved with the other ladies in a lively skip around and through the line of gentlemen, looking very graceful and light on her feet, returning to her spot with a smirk and raise of a brow.

  Alex mirrored it as the gentlemen did the same around and through the line of ladies, keeping his steps just as light.

  “How spritely you dance, Miss Edgewood,” he complimented as he passed her.

  “And you, Mr. Turner,” she replied as they both turned in place.

  He inclined his head in acknowledgement, stepping forward with extended hand, which she took as they proceeded up the row of couples.

  “I’m only trying to match you, cousin.”

  “Just don’t surpass me,” she said airily as they moved backwards.

  “Never,” he affirmed as they circled each other.

  They parted as the gentlemen linked arms with each other and danced down the line, the ladies doing the same on their side, turning in place again once they reached their new position.

  “You are so graceful, Miss Edgewood,” Alex praised as he skipped forward to Mrs. Jones beside her, who was watching them both with a delighted interest, and linked her arm with his as they circled. “As are you, madam,” Alex told his current partner. “So many graceful ladies.”

  Poppy snickered as she proceeded forward to Mr. Jones on Alex’s right, and he to her.

  “Mr. Turner is determined to be complimentary, Mr. Jones, but I think he just flatters.”

  “Well placed flattery is not a crime, Miss Edgewood,” Mr. Jones said with a friendly wink as he circled her.

  “Too true, sir,” Alex agreed as they all clapped their hands three times. “I find flattery gets a poor name from those who use it ill.”

  “You would,” Poppy told him simply, making Mrs. Jones laugh as they all curtseyed and bowed again.

  Alex’s eyes danced as much as his feet did, and he kept up a constant stream of entertainment, to which Poppy could only reply, and hopefully match his wit. The couples beside them seemed to enjoy whatever they were saying, but few of them joined in.

  Poppy made no attempt to keep her voice down and neither did Alex. The general volume of the room was such that only those nearest would hear them, and none of those currently dancing were stuffy enough to mind whatever they said. The stuffy ones couldn’t endure the country dances and so had to watch them from the outer circles of the room.

  They would have much to see as it was.

  Alex grinned most of the time, and the brilliance of the sun was in that grin. He was a handsome man no matter what he did, but his smile was a thing to behold, and those unfamiliar with it would find it quite striking indeed. Because Alex was smiling, and laughing, so too was Poppy, and it had to be a well-known fact that Poppy Edgewood did not smile often.

  And she laughed, to boot!

  The dance ended, and each of them gave dramatic bows and curtseys, then laughed as they applauded with the others.

  Alex suddenly grabbed Poppy’s hand, his smile and now slightly disheveled hair reminding her of the boy he’d once been. “Come on, Poppy!”

  Feeling roughly fifteen years old herself, she returned his grin and nodded, letting him tug her along. He pulled her off the dance floor and in between various guests, his hold on her secure, and his steps nearly as quick as they had been in the dance.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” she laughed as she was slightly jostled between people.

  “Of course, I do. I’ve been here before, you know,” he retorted, glancing back at her briefly.

  Poppy chortled at that. “Not for ages, and you avoided dances here like the plague.”

  “Did not.”

  “Did too.”

  “Dances were the plague in those days,” he admitted as they found a free area in the corner of the room.

  Alex pushed open the door there an
d led them down a corridor, then through another door that found them out on a balcony overlooking the mews.

  Poppy laughed as she looked down at them, hearing the horses whinnying to each other, and feeling the cool night air wash over her after.

  “How did you know about this?”

  “A wise man knows all of the best exits in an uncomfortable situation,” he replied as he stood next to her, leaning against the rail of the balcony. “It’s not much by way of a view, but…” He broke off and started to laugh.

  “What?” Poppy asked, nudging him and giggling at his laughter. “Why are you laughing?”

  Alex looked at her, laughter rampant on his face. “I made such a fuss about coming, and I find that I haven’t enjoyed myself this much in ages.”

  “Really?” Poppy cried, positively beaming now. “You’re not just saying that?”

  He shook his head, his smile crinkling his eyes. “I’m not just saying that. This has been fun, much to my eternal surprise.”

  Poppy giggled again, tossing her hair slightly as she turned back to face the mews.

  “I knew it! I knew it would be.”

  “You did not,” he protested.

  “Did too.”

  “Do you always have to be right?”

  She nodded once. “Always. And if I’m wrong, somehow, I’m actually right.”

  Alex hooted a laugh and looked at her. “Now that sounds like your mother.”

  Poppy gasped and whirled to face him.

  “You take that back!” she giggled, unable to keep up the pretense of offense.

  “Never,” he replied, shaking his head insistently.

  A puff of wind passed through the balcony, dislodging a lock of Poppy’s hair at her brow and sending it across her eyes.

  “Curse this hair,” she muttered, lifting her hand to push it back.

  Alex beat her to it, his fingers gently tucking her hair back into place, then running his thumb down her cheek, his laughter and amusement fading though his color was still high.

  The feeling of his touch on her skin awakened something in Poppy, caught her breath and forced a long dormant flower within her to suddenly bloom. She would have trembled had she any sensation at all, but his thumb was making its way down to her jaw, and all she could feel was him.

  “Never,” Alex said again, this time very softly. “Never curse that hair. It’s… it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

  A strangled pant escaped Poppy’s lips, and it occurred to her to thank him for the compliment, only she didn’t have words.

  She couldn’t say anything.

  Her eyes darted to his lips involuntarily and she wrenched them away as Alex’s hand fell from her face. He turned to face the mews, exhaling slowly, and so did she, though she doubted for the same reason.

  For her part, she felt bewildered, confused, and unsettled, and in desperate need of a long walk or a drink or a patch of grass to watch the stars from.

  Because the moment Alex had touched her face, she’d discovered something. She had some significant feelings towards the man beside her. Not the man he had once been, but this one, damaged, baffling, and maddening as he was.

  And that was terrifying.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Ah! What are you doing?”

  “Making you breakfast, what does it look like?”

  “Alex, step away from my pan.”

  “Can’t do that. There are eggs in it, and they’ll burn.”

  “They’ll burn anyway, if you’re the one doing the cooking!” Poppy laughed, sitting herself down at the table, despite her protestations.

  Alex turned to frown at her over his shoulder. “I am not so inept as all that. I’ll have you know I was one of very few soldiers who didn’t need to have his food cooked for him. I did just fine on my own.”

  Poppy grinned and held up her hands in surrender. “Apologies for not seeing your strength in culinary realms, Lord Parkerton. I await the masterpiece of your creation.”

  “Too right,” he said with a grin, returning to his work.

  She wasn’t sure what had gotten into Alex, but ever since the ball two days ago, he’d been teasing and warm and so much like his old self that it made her heart ache, though in a way that thrilled her rather than pained her. They’d laughed their way through grooming the horses yesterday before riding them across the lands, just as they’d done in their younger days. Whatever injuries Alex had suffered, they seemed to not pain him nearly so much these days. He still had nightmares, she could tell, but those would be much more difficult to resolve, no matter how he smiled throughout the day.

  And how he smiled!

  She could barely keep up with his good humor and wit, his boundless energy and delight. They’d even danced again as they finished the harvest with the others and celebrated with a feast at Branbury in Lord Cartwright’s honor, as he was the landowner and she his lowly tenant farmer. Fritz insisted he would have approved, so they might as well do the thing properly.

  Poppy had danced with Fritz, Gabe, Alex, John Barry, and all the rest of the workers who had been helping, and it had been such a rousing good time that she actually found herself wishing the harvest wasn’t completed.

  Which was, of course, nonsense.

  It was not as though there wasn’t a great deal to do. The actual harvest was only a very small portion of the process. Now they could focus on the rest of it, and the sheep, and the cattle, and everything else she and the other tenant farmers under Lord Cartwright’s care dealt with.

  But not at this moment.

  For now, she would let Stanton see to the details while she enjoyed having breakfast made for her.

  “Do you know how I like my eggs?” Poppy inquired mildly.

  “Edible, I presume.”

  Poppy snorted and put her head into her hands. This could be a terrible breakfast, but the attempt was adorable.

  And odd. Why would Alex decide to make breakfast for her? There was no reason for him to do so, not when they’d been having only a basic meal when they could between harvesting and other tasks the farm needed completed.

  She frowned at him suspiciously. “Why are you doing this? What are you up to?”

  “Nothing,” he refuted adamantly. “Why can’t I just cook breakfast for you after all you’ve done for me?”

  “Because you never do anything without a reason,” Poppy retorted with a smile. “And you’ve already repaid me by seeing to the harvest and repairs.”

  Alex glanced at her over his shoulder again. “No, that was paying room and board.” He moved over to the table and scooped almost perfectly done eggs onto her plate. “Sausages would have accompanied this, but you don’t have any.” He gave her a scolding look, then turned to grab the bread and jam.

  “Wait a moment,” Poppy said, holding up a finger. “You drop dead on my doorstep with multiple injuries and fatigue, I nurse you to health through sleepless nights and fevers and allow you to remain in my home, and according to you, all I get in return is a breakfast?” She scoffed loudly and stuck her fork into the eggs pointedly. “These had better be eggs fit for a queen.”

  He put the bread and jam down on the table and set his hands on his hips, brow furrowed.

  “You go right ahead and take a bite, Miss Indignant Greedykins, and see if they aren’t.”

  With a dramatic bit of flourish with her fork, Poppy did so, and if she were to be completely honest, she would have said that the eggs weren’t among the best she had ever had, nor were they among the worst. But as she had expected them to be vile, she would have to admit to being pleasantly surprised. She swallowed and gave him a smile.

  “Perfect.”

  Alex grinned at that. “Liar. I barely did anything to them, and I am quite out of practice, but I’ll accept the compliment of your lie and bring you tea as a reward.”

  She giggled at his playful bow and reached for a large piece of bread, forgoing the jam in favor of butter. “Oh, well, if
that’s all it takes…”

  Her cup was promptly filled with tea, and Alex surprised her by adding just the right amount of cream and sugar to it.

  She stared up at him, her buttered bread halfway to her mouth. “You remembered how I like my tea?”

  “Of course,” he replied without any of the tension she was currently experiencing. “You’re quite particular about it, or did you forget the time you broke one of your mother’s teapots over my head when you were twelve?”

  Poppy gasped and dropped her bread to the table. “I did not!”

  Alex barked a laugh and dropped himself into chair. “I can assure you that you did. Sometimes I can still feel it running down my neck and back.”

  She hadn’t done that. She couldn’t have. She’d always been the controlled sibling in her family, in control of her temper, her manners, her behavior…

  The lie made her wince, and she shook her head.

  “I don’t remember,” she admitted as she shrugged and picked up her bread once more, taking a pointed bite.

  “So many lies,” Alex sighed, rocking his chair back on its back legs. “Perhaps I’ll change my plans for the day.”

  “Plans?” Poppy perked up. “What plans? Aren’t we working in the barn?”

  A slow, sly, perfectly Alex grin spread across his face as he gave her a painfully deliberate shake of the head. “No, Miss Edgewood, we are not.”

  “Well?” She asked, her spine suddenly tingling in anticipation. “What are we doing, then?”

  Alex drummed his fingers on the table, still grinning. “We’re taking a holiday.”

  Poppy’s eyes widened, and she swallowed hard. “We… we can’t take a holiday. There’s far too much to do, and you’re still recovering. We cannot possibly go anywhere, Alex. And…” She trailed off, blushing. “And we can’t go alone.”

  “How you jump to conclusions,” he teased, his fingers tapping against the wood again. “We’re not going anywhere, and nothing scandalous or untoward is going to take place.”

  “Really?” she asked with a dubious look. “You’re too giddy for this to not be some fiasco waiting to happen.”

  He coughed in mock offense and put a hand to his chest. “I beg your pardon. I am not giddy.” He sniffed and wrinkled up his nose in an almost grin. “But I am rather excited, I’ll grant you that.”