by Robyn DeHart
“How?”
“I saw you two at the art exhibit. You certainly weren’t being very discreet.”
“Oh, this is simply splendid.” Claudia dropped her head into her hands.
“Not to worry,” Poppy reassured her, “no one else saw you there. Except for Alistair, but he won’t tell. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know. I wanted to, but I wasn’t certain how you’d feel about it. He’s not properly courting me, and my father will never allow me to have a legitimate relationship with him. There’s no respectable reason to allow him to kiss me.”
“Then why did you do it?”
Claudia couldn’t help herself. She smiled. “I don’t know.”
“Tell me more. You can’t expect me to let you go without giving me details of the kiss.”
“The kiss was…” Amazing, toe-curling, sensual, heart-stopping. So many thoughts came to mind, but none of them seemed to fit. So she settled on “Really nice.”
Poppy’s shoulders deflated. “Really nice? Derrick Middleton presses you against a balcony rail and kisses you for the better part of ten minutes and all you can say is it was ‘really nice’?”
“I don’t really have a base for comparison.”
“Did you feel it all over? I read in a novel once where the woman was kissed by a wicked Frenchman and she felt it all over. All over. I can’t even imagine.”
A month ago it had been hard to imagine. Never in her wildest thoughts had she envisioned a kiss affecting her the way Derrick’s did.
“You could say I felt it all over. I felt it in other places besides my lips.” She fought the urge to giggle. She lost. “It feels as if our lips were meant for each other. I know that sounds so silly, but kissing him feels as natural as breathing. Yet it feels so deliciously foreign at the same time. It’s quite exhilarating.”
“I’m assuming the art exhibit wasn’t the first time?”
“No. Once before at my house, in the garden, that was the first. And then again when I went riding with him. Then the art exhibit, and then the Finnigers’ ball. I’m shameless.”
“And you’ve successfully kept this from me for that long?”
Claudia expected Poppy to give her a lecture on how they were supposed to be confidantes. Instead her friend merely smiled.
“I’m impressed,” she finally said.
“Impressed?”
“That you kept it a secret. You’ve never been very good at secrets. Particularly your own. Which leads me to believe that there must be more that you’re hiding. More than a few kisses.”
Claudia shook her head. “No. Only the kisses. We haven’t done anything else. I swear.”
Poppy laughed. “That’s not what I meant. But that’s intriguing.”
“You think I’m a harlot, don’t you?”
“Why would I think a silly thing like that?”
“Because I’ve been intimate with a man who is not properly courting me. And who doesn’t have permission from my father to do so.”
“Doesn’t have your father’s permission to court you, or to be intimate with you?” Poppy asked with a smile.
“Neither. Of course, Derrick said he would not be dictated by my father. He claims I’m old enough to marry who I choose.”
“That’s quite bold of him. Has he proposed?”
“No. I doubt he will. I don’t believe he truly wants to marry me.”
“For someone who’s not so serious, he’s certainly doing a better job of courting you than Richard.”
“Be serious, Poppy.”
“I was. Has it not occurred to you that Mr. Middleton might be interested in you because of who you are and not because of your father and his political ties? This might be the one. The one who could free you, who would allow you to continue illustrating. Who would love you.” Poppy fell back on her bed. “If I were you, I’d try to get myself compromised with him so he’d have to marry me.”
“Poppy! You would do no such thing, and neither will I. That’s a wretched thought, trying to snare a husband in such a manner. He’d probably never speak to me again. I know my father wouldn’t.”
“I was only joking. But I still think you should consider the fact that Derrick is clearly serious in courting you.”
“Honestly, Poppy. When you look at him, am I the type of woman you’d think he’d choose?”
“Why wouldn’t you be?”
Claudia shook her head. “Don’t think of it as me—you love me, so of course you’ll say yes. Pretend I’m a girl you don’t know. Some girl across the ballroom wearing a silly dress to hide her imperfections. Am I the type of girl you’d see him with?”
“Claudia, you’re beautiful. I’m sorry you can’t see that. But I’m thrilled he can. There is no reason you should try to hide behind anything. The only reason more men don’t court you is because they’re scared of your father. Derrick Middleton is not likely to be afraid of anyone.”
“Since Derrick refuses to stop courting me, I must handle the situation myself.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I shall clear my social calendar for a few weeks until Richard proposes.”
“And what if Richard doesn’t propose? Will you go into permanent hiding?”
“I don’t know. But Richard will propose.”
“Do I need to tell you again that I think it’s a bad idea that you marry Richard?”
“No, you do not. And I trust that when I’m married to him and am as miserable as you predict, you will still be my friend?”
“That is a ridiculous question. Of course I will.” Poppy smacked her in the arm. “I have a question for you, though. What was it about the kisses that you didn’t want me to know? Was it that you felt you were betraying Richard? Or did you feel that allowing Derrick liberties would make me question your virtue?”
Claudia thought for a moment of how to answer those questions. Why had she kept the secret from her friend? She rarely kept anything from Poppy. Yet she had been reluctant to share this secret.
She didn’t particularly feel as if she was betraying Richard, although she knew she ought to feel that way, which made the entire situation all that much worse. She didn’t think Poppy would judge her innocence or lack thereof no matter what liberties she allowed Derrick or any other man to take. Poppy would never judge her. So what was it?
“I know what it is,” Poppy said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Splendid, because I’m at a loss. I’m certain I had a perfectly good reason. Perhaps I was simply embarrassed.”
“No, that’s not it,” Poppy said as if that were the most ridiculous thing she ever heard. “To admit to me that you had kissed Derrick Middleton would make you have to acknowledge something you’d rather not acknowledge.”
Claudia frowned. “What would that be?”
“That you want him. That you’re attracted to him, and you thoroughly enjoy kissing him and wish it were him in your future and not Richard.”
Claudia opened her mouth to respond, then promptly shut it. Could she refute that? Was it true? Of course it was true. She wanted Derrick in a way she didn’t know a woman could want a man. It was as if once she met him, she’d been turned on, like a lantern, and she burned hotter and brighter than she ever thought possible.
“I will assume your silence confirms my opinion,” Poppy said. “It’s a logical argument. But now that I’ve said it out loud, it’s out there, in the air, and you must acknowledge it. Admit it, Claudia. You wish you could marry Derrick.”
Claudia tilted her head and thought for a moment. “I’m not certain I’ll admit to that. I want him, desire him, but I don’t know that I want to marry him. I’ve never considered marriage with any other man than Richard.”
“What about when you were a girl? Didn’t you fantasize about a handsome man coming to whisk you away, pledging his undying love to you?”
“I suppose I did at one time.” But her father’s voice had squelched those fantasies
before they became too advanced.
His voice rang in her ears. You’ll never be beautiful, Claudia. You need to cultivate other ways to ensnare a husband.
No, she’d never much dreamed of anything but living a life that would make her father proud. Yet that seemed the biggest fantasy of all.
“Well, you should start fantasizing about that now. Derrick could be the one, Claudia. You’re like the princess trapped in the highest tower of the castle, and he is your knight come to rescue from the evil tyrant.”
Claudia winced. “I suppose my father is the evil tyrant in this scenario?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been reading too many adventure novels. We are not in Camelot, and Derrick Middleton is no knight.” Although the thought of him rescuing her was vastly appealing. She loved her father, but she longed to be free from his demands.
“How will you ever know if you’re happy, if you never dream?”
She was happy. Wasn’t she? And she dreamed, or she used to, but her dreams were impossible. Fantasies. Women of her station didn’t have paid positions, and they rarely married for love. Then she remembered what Baubie always told her—that when she was born, she brightened her mother’s life. As if her mother was born for that purpose, to be a mother. Perhaps that was Claudia’s purpose as well.
“I want a family, Poppy. That is my dream. And that will make me happy.”
“Even if you do not love your husband?”
“I can love Richard.”
“Not real love, Claudia. Not the heart-pounding kind that shakes every fiber of your being.”
“Probably not that kind of love. But I would wager that most marriages lack that kind of love, and they survive and those people are happy. You’ve never said love was a requirement for marriage. You’ve said yourself many times how you’ll end up in a rotten marriage. What is so different now?”
“Alistair.”
“The painter?”
“Yes.” Poppy scooted closer. “He’s so wonderful. I love him. And I know he loves me. We haven’t said so, of course, it’s far too soon. But I feel it, and I’m positive he does as well. Oh, Claudia, it’s so wonderful to be in love. Just like the heroines I’ve read about.”
Claudia forced herself to smile. She was happy for her friend, and she didn’t want to strip her of this moment simply because she hadn’t been fortunate to find the same kind of luck.
“That’s marvelous, Poppy. What have your parents said?”
“Nothing yet. I haven’t exactly told them.”
“I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but what of your responsibility to your family? How will an artist’s wages improve your family’s financial situation?”
Poppy clapped her hands. “That’s the beauty of it! Alistair is rich. He’s the second son of an earl. His brother only recently came into the title. Alistair even has a holding in Sussex.”
“Oh, that’s splendid. See, I told you that you wouldn’t get stuck marrying some old codger!”
Chapter 9
“Your note said it was urgent, so I came as quickly as I could,” Richard said.
Emerson Prattley, Viscount Kennington, eyed the man in the doorway. He motioned him to enter the room. “Close the door. This matter is not only urgent, but extremely private.”
“Is Claudia home?”
“No, but she might be soon. I sent for you hours ago when she first left. Where have you been?”
His eyes shifted. “I was in a meeting.”
“I see. Let’s carry on before my daughter returns. Sit.”
Richard obeyed and sat across the desk in the leather wingback.
“When are you planning to propose to my daughter? I assume you have not forgotten your promise to do so.”
He swallowed, then cleared his throat. “No, I have not forgotten. But still I am not ready.”
“I can’t blame you for stalling. I wouldn’t want to be saddled with a woman like my daughter. Too much flesh. And far too many opinions, although I’ve done what every father could to try and break her of that.”
He poured himself a drink, deliberately not offering any to Richard. “She’s not the pick of the litter, I realize that, but once you’re married, you’ll have ample opportunity to mold her to the kind of woman you wish…or I suppose you could just blow out the candles at night so you don’t have to look at her.”
“It’s not that. I have a bit of a situation.”
“Ah, a lady not willing to share you? You can dally with other females after you’re married. There’s no reason to drag your feet now. You have a nice dowry waiting for you.”
“I’m not dallying with anyone. As soon as my problem is sorted out, I will be ready to take Claudia as my wife. I need more time.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have any more time. I didn’t want to resort to drama, but you’ve left me no choice. Either you propose to my daughter immediately, or the queen will hear of your little embezzlement.”
Richard came to his feet. “You must give me more time. I need money now. Give me her dowry now, and I’ll marry her.”
“Why do you need money?”
“I have a debt that needs to be repaid.”
“Or what?”
“Or they’ll kill me,” he yelled.
“Lower your voice. I don’t believe you keep good company, Foxmore. What is the debt for?”
His lips pursed. “Necessities. Living expenses. There is a high price to pay to wear respectable clothes and eat at respectable establishments.”
“Idiot.”
“Will you front me her dowry? I’ll marry her as soon as the debt is paid.”
“What kind of fool do you take me for? No, you won’t get one farthing of her dowry until after you’ve said your vows. I don’t trust you, Foxmore.”
“If you report me to the queen, I’ll hang.”
“Possibly. But more than likely you’ll rot in prison.”
“Give me some more time. Two days, that’s all I ask. I’ll go see my uncle to borrow the money. He’s only a day’s ride from here. As soon as I return, I’ll marry Claudia. You have my word.”
“Your word means nothing to me.” He lit a cigar and took a thoughtful drag. “But your fear speaks loud and clear. I shall give you two days. After that I will post the announcement of your pending nuptials in the Times myself. Is that understood?”
“Yes.”
“One more thing. Leave a letter for Claudia setting up an appointment where you will propose.” He held out a piece of parchment.
Richard took the paper and nodded. He reached for the quill and scratched out a note. He let the ink dry, then folded the letter and wrote her name on the outside.
“I’ll be back in two days.” He held out the letter.
“I look forward to the announcement. And for your sake, Richard, you better be here, or those people to whom you owe your debt will be the least of your worries.”
“I thought you were going to stay home this week, not accept any invitations,” Poppy said, obviously surprised to see her friend.
Claudia removed her gloves. “My father insisted I come. He said I was not permitted to refuse an invitation by Lady Oliver. Besides, it’s not likely I’ll see Derrick here. Only dandies come to these card parties.”
Poppy giggled. “Yes, I see Morris Brimley over there. He is the very picture of a dandy. I was not aware that dots and stripes were complementary patterns.”
“Penelope, watch that mouth,” her mother said as she walked near. “If I heard you, then there’s a chance he did.”
“I doubt it, Lady Livingston, he’s deaf in his left ear,” Claudia offered.
“Regardless, it wasn’t kind. Mind your manners, dear, or you’ll never find a husband.”
That last part Poppy mouthed in perfect unison with her mother. It seemed every chance she got, Lady Livingston reminded her daughter of the importance of behavior and securing a husband. She meant well. It was only because she herself had fou
nd such joy in marriage and motherhood that she wanted Poppy to have the same, and she wanted Poppy well cared for.
“Girls, go and find your tables. And behave.”
It was nice having a mother fret over her again. Claudia loved Poppy’s mother. She wasn’t a replacement by any means, but she was the perfect stand-in when Claudia needed one.
“Alistair sent me a poem,” Poppy said as soon as they were out of earshot from her mother.
“An original?”
“I believe so. It’s not one I’ve heard before.”
“Was it any good?”
Poppy’s smile lit her face. “It was wonderfully romantic, with clever rhymes.”
“Has he been to see your father, to make his intentions known?”
“No, but I suspect he will soon.”
“I’m really happy for you,” Claudia said, then gave Poppy a brief hug before they sat at their table.
They hadn’t so much as taken their seats when Derrick walked into the room. Claudia’s heart fell to her toes. She was certain her mouth dropped open, so she brought her hand to her lips to hold it shut just in case. What could he possibly be doing here? Tea and a card party, in the middle of the afternoon? It hardly seemed the kind of thing a man would enjoy. Especially a man who took great pleasure in living the life of a rogue.
He met her eyes across the room and smiled. The connection between them sizzled. She looked over at Poppy to see if she’d noticed, but she was busy shuffling the cards.
“Poppy,” Claudia whispered.
“What?”
“Look over there.” She motioned with her head, trying not to look again in his direction.
“What’s he doing here?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
“Well, you are the most intimate with him.”
Claudia smacked her in the arm. “Not so loud. And we’re not…intimate.”
“You don’t have to say it like a curse. There’s nothing wrong with intimacy.”
Derrick leaned over an older woman and kissed her on the cheek. She said something, and he laughed heartily. The rich rumble sent gooseflesh dancing across Claudia’s arms. He asked Lady Oliver a question, and she pointed to their table.
