Chapter Sixteen
Poppy had spent the better part of the afternoon attempting not to think about Gabriel Ashby—or, more specifically, his mouth.
It was not going well.
She had tried to be sensible. She had returned home from Hyde Park, surrendered Freddie to Jenkins for a thorough cleaning, changed her soggy shoes, answered two notes, soothed one tradesman, and reminded Mama that Lord Crampton’s interest in Hampshire did not require her to order curtains for a house she had not been invited to occupy.
None of it helped.
Gabriel had kissed her in the foyer.
Then he had kissed her beside the Serpentine.
Then she had asked him for more, and he had given it to her.
Poppy had known kisses could be pleasant. She had imagined they might be thrilling. She had not anticipated that a kiss could shift the ground beneath her and leave her with an urgent desire to disarrange a man’s cravat.
His cravat had remained infuriatingly orderly.
Almost everything else about him had not.
The memory returned in pieces as she climbed the steps to Archer House to visit Bea—his hand at her cheek, the low sound in his throat, the astonishing heat of his restraint when it finally broke. It was indecent how vividly a woman could remember being kissed while still wearing all her clothing.
Poppy had changed only her shoes and retied the ribbons of her bonnet, leaving the same white muslin gown and pale blue pelisse to bear silent witness against her.
If either garment betrayed that she had been kissed beside the Serpentine by a man who had then announced he must remove himself from her affairs, Bea would notice at once.
Especially since that was precisely what had happened.
A footman admitted her and conducted her upstairs. Bea and Georgie were already in the pale green drawing room, seated near the windows with a tea tray between them. They had the air of women expecting news and prepared to extract it by force if required.
Bea rose first. “There you are.”
Georgie crossed to Poppy and took both her hands. “How are you?”
That was far too gentle a beginning.
Poppy looked from one friend to the other. “I am not certain.”
Bea’s expression sharpened. “What happened?”
“Several things.”
“Begin with Lord Ketterham,” Bea said. “He was meant to call upon you this morning.”
“He did not.”
Georgie’s face fell. “Oh, Poppy.”
“There’s more.”
Bea gestured toward the sofa. “Sit. Tell us.”
Poppy sat because standing required more composure than she had brought with her. Georgie settled beside her. Bea remained upright for another moment, as if sitting might delay judgment, then took the chair opposite.
“Lord Ketterham called upon Gabriel first,” Poppy said.
Both of her friends went still.
“Gabriel,” Bea repeated, her brows shooting up.
Poppy closed her eyes briefly. “Mr. Ashby.”
“No,” Georgie said, with deliberate softness. “You said Gabriel.”
“I was arriving at that part later.”
“Then arrive more quickly,” Bea said, rolling her hand in the air.
Poppy accepted a cup of tea and did not drink it. “Lord Ketterham went to Gabriel’s office to ask whether the rumors about Mama’s household were exaggerated.”
Georgie’s hand tightened around hers. “Oh, dear.”
Bea’s eyes flashed. “And?”
“And Gabriel said they were not wholly exaggerated.”
“Gabriel,” Bea said again, only this time it sounded like a curse word.
Georgie leaned nearer. “Was that why Lord Ketterham did not call?”
“Yes. He wanted peace, competence, and a quiet household. He admired me, apparently, but did not wish to marry into…” Poppy waved one hand. “All of this.”
Bea set down her cup with more force than porcelain deserved. “A man who requires perfect calm should marry a cushion.”
Despite everything, Poppy laughed.
Georgie’s mouth curved. “A very well-upholstered cushion.”
“With no mother,” Bea added.
“And no puppy,” Georgie said.
“And no thoughts of its own,” Bea said before adding, “He did not deserve you.”
Poppy looked down at her untouched tea. “That is what Gabriel said.”
A silence moved through the room, swift and unmistakable. Poppy felt both their gazes settle on her.
“Ah,” Georgie said.
Bea folded her hands. “Continue.”
“He came to tell me himself. About Lord Ketterham. And about Algernon refusing to give us more time.” Poppy drew one breath, then another.
“He found me waiting in the morning room with a tea tray set for a gentleman who had already decided not to come. It was a very elegant little humiliation. There were cakes.”
Georgie made a soft, sympathetic sound.
Poppy pressed on before the sympathy could undo her. “So Gabriel offered to take me driving in the park.”
Bea tilted her head and blinked. “Mr. Ashby took you riding in the park?”
“Yes. For practical reasons,” Poppy amended.
“Practical,” Bea repeated, looking thoroughly confused.
“He claimed it might improve my spirits.”
Georgie’s eyes softened. “Did it?”
“Yes,” Poppy said. “Eventually. And Freddie improved the outing by trying to wage war upon a family of ducks.”
Bea closed her eyes. “You brought Freddie?”
“Mama appointed him chaperone.”
“Naturally,” Bea breathed.
“He leapt from the curricle, freed himself from his collar, pursued the ducks into the shallows, and returned soaked, victorious, and entirely empty-mouthed. The ducks were unharmed, though their dignity may never recover.”
Georgie smiled. “That does sound like Freddie.”
“It was absurd,” Poppy said. “And then Gabriel and I walked near the Serpentine, with the curricle and groom in view, and he told me Lord Ketterham wanted the easiest parts of me.”
Bea’s face softened despite herself.
“He said a husband should value my loyalty, my wit, my courage, my kindness, my stubbornness, and everything attached to my life. Mama. Freddie. The chaos.” Poppy looked at her hands.
“He named those things without flinching. He made them sound less like burdens and more like reasons I might be worth…” She stopped.
“Loving?” Georgie supplied gently.
Poppy’s throat tightened. “He didn’t use that word.”
Bea settled her hands in her lap. “And then?”
“And then he kissed me.”
Georgie inhaled.
Bea leaned forward. “Where?”
Poppy frowned. “My mouth.”
Georgie made a choking sound that might have been a laugh.
Bea looked heavenward. “I meant where were you standing?”
“Oh.” Poppy’s cheeks burned. “Beside the Serpentine.”
“Thank heavens,” Georgie said faintly. “For a moment I feared we had added inexplicable improprieties to the afternoon.”
“Please do not say improprieties. It makes me sound as if I did something scandalous.”
“You were kissed in Hyde Park by your solicitor,” Bea said. “You did do something scandalous.”
“He is not precisely my solicitor now.”
“That wasn’t the scandalous part. Not entirely,” Bea informed her.
The words quieted the room.
Georgie’s smile faded. “What do you mean he’s not your solicitor now?”
Poppy stared into her teacup. “After the second kiss—”
“The second kiss?” Bea’s brows shot up again.
Poppy bit her lip. “I asked for it.”
“You asked him to kiss you again?” Georgie’s voice was a mixture of alarm and admiration.
“Yes.” Poppy nodded.
“And he did?” Georgie continued.
Poppy nodded again.
“Good,” Bea said. “At least the man has some sense.”
“Bea!”
“What? If a woman asks to be kissed again and a man spends five minutes explaining propriety, he deserves never to be kissed by anyone.”
Poppy’s mouth twitched. “He did not explain propriety until after.”
“How thoughtful of him,” Bea murmured.
“He said his feelings are involved,” Poppy said, because if she delayed, she might lose the courage to say it at all. “He said he cannot advise me properly about marriage, suitors, or anything affecting my future. He said desire has made him partial.”
Bea’s brows rose. “At least he has enough wit to know it.”
Poppy looked into her tea. “He also said continuing as our solicitor would be improper.”
Georgie’s hand tightened around hers. “That sounds honorable.”
“It is,” Poppy said. “That is why I cannot even enjoy being angry.”
“And how do you feel about that?” Georgie asked kindly.
“He was doing the honorable thing,” Poppy said, “but I wanted him to stop doing it.”
Bea leaned back, studying her. “Do you want him to remain your solicitor?”
Poppy opened her mouth. Then closed it. She stared at her hands.
There was the miserable, shining truth of it.
“I wanted him to choose me,” she said quietly. “Before the title, before the house, before any solution. I wanted him to look at all of it—Mama, Freddie, Algernon, the debts, the impossible mess—and say he wanted me enough to step into it.”
Neither friend spoke for a moment.
Then Bea said, with unusual softness, “I understand.”
“It feels humiliating,” Poppy replied.
“It’s not though,” Georgie said. “You have every right to your feelings.”
Poppy gave a watery little laugh. “Do I? Because my feelings have become so tangled lately.”
Bea’s face grew serious. “Poppy, tell us plainly. What do you want?”
Poppy looked toward the window, where late afternoon light slanted over the green silk draperies and turned Archer House into a place that looked incapable of collapse.
“I think,” she said, slowly, “I may be falling in love with him.”
There. It was out. Terrible and beautiful and utterly inconvenient.
Georgie’s hand closed over hers. Bea said nothing, which was never a good sign.
Poppy looked up at her. “Say it.”
Bea exhaled. “You cannot afford to fall in love with a solicitor.”
The words hurt, though not because they were cruel. Because they were exactly what Poppy had told herself.
Bea reached across the tea table and seized Poppy’s other hand.
“Listen to me. I do not mean because he is a solicitor. I am not being a snob, though I realize I sound like every dreadful dowager we have ever mocked. I mean because you have five days, no confirmed home, a mother who needs protection, and a new viscount eager to install a snuff cabinet in your hall. Love cannot be the whole plan. Unless…”
“Unless what?” Poppy murmured.
Bea shrugged. “Did Mr. Ashby offer for you?”
The sick, roiling feeling that had been gathering in Poppy’s stomach all afternoon intensified. “No.”
“You need an offer,” Bea continued.
“Yes,” Poppy breathed. “I know. I am reckless, not insensible.”
Georgie squeezed her hand. “But hearts do not obey convenience.”
“No,” Bea said, “which is why they so often require supervision.”
“Bea.” Georgie gave her a pleading look.
Bea lifted one shoulder. “I am not wrong.”
“No,” Georgie admitted. “Only brisk.”
Poppy looked between them. “Gabriel sees me.”
Georgie’s expression softened.
Bea’s fierce practicality gentled too, though she did not interrupt.
“Other men see Mama,” Poppy said. “They see the noise, the gossip, the unpaid bills, the mysterious guests, the latest thing she has signed or promised or set on fire. Then, if they notice me at all, they see the woman trying to quiet it down. The useful one. The apologetic one. The woman with a list.”
Her throat tightened, but she kept her voice steady.
“Gabriel sees when I am frightened even if I smile. He sees when I straighten things because I cannot set anything else to rights. He understands that I love Mama and resent her in the same breath. He makes me laugh when I have forgotten I can. He helps without making me feel foolish for needing help.”
“And,” Georgie said, a little smile returning, “he is not half-bad at kissing.”
Poppy’s cheeks heated again. “Not at all.”
Bea regarded her for a long moment before drumming her fingertips atop the table. “This is profoundly inconvenient.”
“Yes,” Poppy agreed.
“I dislike it,” Bea continued.
“I suspected you might,” Poppy replied.
“But I do not dislike him,” Bea said.
Poppy smiled despite herself. From Bea, that was nearly an embrace.
Bea sat back and reached for her teacup.
“We must proceed carefully. Mr. Ashby must decide what he intends. You must not surrender every other possibility while he is deciding. For that reason, Lady Lemonwood’s ball tomorrow evening will be useful.
Half the unmarried peers in London are expected to attend. ”
Poppy frowned. “I thought Lady Lemonwood despised Mama.”
“She does,” Bea said. “But she respects my title, and Nicholas has known her son since Eton. I sent a note this morning requesting invitations for you both.”
Poppy’s heart lifted cautiously. “Do you think she will agree?”
Bea took a sip of tea. “She will if she possesses any sense.”
Georgie and Poppy exchanged a look.
That was not quite an answer.