Blowing out a deep breath, Declan sprawled further in his chair. His glass hanging perilously in his hand, he stared at the whiskey; he wanted to drink until he couldn’t think. “After Gabriel died, I drank so much that I barely remember those first six months.” He looked at Seymour, his face contorted with disgust. He placed his glass on the end table. “I don’t drink very much anymore.”
“Everyone deals with death differently,” Seymour said. “I for one threw a party when my father stuck his spoon in the wall.” He chuckled.
“I squandered my chances to love properly over and over again. I cannot believe I am going to say this to you, Seymour.” He hesitated, clenching his jaw. “I am afraid to love anyone else, pathetic right?” He grabbed his drink and drained it dry, soberly, waiting for some witty retort from Seymour.
“Don’t start drinking again on my account.” Seymour snorted. Sitting back, he looked at Declan before he responded, “No matter what has happened in the past, or what the ton says, or even for that matter what is written in the scandal sheets, just because you are a duke does not give you super human abilities. You are ultimately still a man.”
Clearing his throat, Declan said, “We have been friends a long time, I find I have a care for your opinion,” Declan said smiling a little.
“As you should, I happen to be a very wise man wrapped in a frivolous package.”
Declan leaned back and rolled his eyes. “I have been hanging on by a thin string stretched to the breaking point. I am afraid to give my heart to someone, go ahead and laugh.”
Quite shocked at Declan, Seymour was quiet for a moment. “One word frees us of all the weight and pain in life. That word is love,” he quoted.
“Not you too.” Declan laughed. “Sophocles? Poppy asked me why I quote stuff all the time.” He looked at Seymour. “I can see how it could be annoying.” He snorted. “When did you become a romantic?”
“I have always been a romantic,” Seymour clarified. “The hardened rake is just a ruse for le bon ton.” A laugh sprang to his eyes. “I am holding you in the strictest of confidence.” He chuckled. “If this gets out, I know who to look for.”
“What if I cannot love her the way she expects or needs to be loved? She has never wanted for anything.”
Disbelieving, Seymour answered, “I knew your father, I knew your brother and I know you,” he said shrewdly. “You have an infinite supply of love to give.” He smiled. “As boys, we loved visiting your house on holiday.” Sighing as he thought back on those memories. “We never felt judged or felt lacking with your family. Your father taught and loved at the same time. He never expected you to be more than you were. He never expected you to be a mirror image of him. He knew you would be your own man.” Seymour continued, “My father criticized everything I did as a boy. He was never satisfied. Even with my very best. He always told me that I was not good enough to carry on the family name.”
He looked at Declan. “Remember the joy you felt when you were at your home? How is it wrong to spread that joy? Your father would hate for you to have died along with them. He never asked you to preserve their memory by placing yourself in a glass box. He definitely would not be happy with you living half a life. People spend their lifetimes filling in the gaps to attempt to find happiness. Do not throw it away. Do not take this opportunity for granted. If you think for even a second that you might love her, then go for it.”
“You’re right.” He shrugged. “My father would box my ears for sure if he caught me feeling sorry for myself.” He smiled. “He always reminded us how blessed we were.”
“Anyone can choose to love,” Seymour said. “Your father and brother knew you loved them. If Poppy loves you, are you also going to make her suffer because you don’t feel that you deserve to be loved by her?”
Declan chuckled. “I give up.” He held up his hands, laughing outright. “You have made your point.”
“What are friends for?” Seymour chuckled. “Besides, I might need you for seconds someday. How can you refuse me now after I have given you such sage advise?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
If music be the food of love; play on.
Twelfth Night
*William Shakespeare
The day of the picnic was very fine indeed. The sun was shining and there was a gentle breeze to make the heat of the day bearable. The wagon loaded with hampers of food and blankets for the picnic was already rambling well ahead of them to the lake. Just that morning they had a pavilion erected to give them a shaded area to eat what cook had prepared.
Deciding to take advantage of the magnificent weather, they leisurely strolled side by side towards the water at a leisurely pace.
The pleasant afternoon’s entertainment made even more joyful by the official announcement from Durham of his betrothal to Freya.
“Oh for goodness sakes, Durham, if you want to walk with Freya we are certainly not going to stop you.” Parker laughed. “I can’t believe that you were able to hold the announcement in for so long,” Parker said, slapping him on the back.
“Well done,” Seymour congratulated with a handshake.
All the women knew of course and they were chattering away.
“I have sent a letter home to my parents,” Freya informed. Her eyes glowed excitedly in anticipation. “They will be thrilled that they need only concern themselves with two daughters now instead of three for next Season.” She laughed gaily. “Father always complained about the expense of a Season anyway.”
“It is all so wonderful.” Piper smiled brightly. “Have you thought about where you are going to marry?”
“I am sure father will expect me to marry at Kettering.” A breathy sigh escaped her. “You remember our chapel Poppy? Isn’t it beautiful a beautiful setting for a wedding?” She returned Piper’s bright smile with one of her own. “We plan to marry before the summer is out.”
“I am beyond excited,” Poppy cried. “We will have so much fun planning your wedding. That is, if your mother gives us any say.”
“See,” Seymour glanced towards the girls, “incessant chattering.” He elbowed Declan again. “Aren’t you glad that I insisted you have that whiskey?”
Declan chuckled. “Well, at least we can have no doubt that they are enjoying themselves.” Glancing at Poppy, he found her eyes gazing back at him. He grinned and cocked his eyebrow. She smiled brilliantly back and playfully raised her eyebrows in response. Throwing back his head, he laughed.
Seymour smiled. “I think you have met your match finally, Hawk,” laughter filled his voice. “Who would have thought, Ash’s little sister.” He shook his head. “I don’t think you have a thing to worry about, old man.” He slapped Declan on the back. “She seems equally infatuated with you.” He whistled a happy tune. “Love is definitely in the air this summer.”
Declan’s eyes glittered in the sunshine. Dash it all! With a vibrant smile, he turned to Seymour, slapping him on the back. “I for one don’t know what I am doing with you when a beautiful woman is beckoning so obviously from afar.” Turning, he trotted after Poppy.
“I do say, Ash,” Seymour called over his shoulder. “I believe we might see two weddings this summer. God help us.”
Parker glanced over to see Declan running towards Poppy. “You might be right for once Seymour,” he concurred.
“Well, I’ll be damned, Parker,” Peyton said, looking towards Poppy. Her brilliant smile was a dead giveaway.
“It appears that way, little brother,” Parker’s grin remained.
“How brilliant, Hawk is smitten with our little Poppy,” Peyton exclaimed. “Now we’ve only one chit to worry about.”
Parker looked towards Peyton and heaved a sigh. “We?” His brow arched sardonically.
A luminous smile brightened Poppy’s face as she watched Declan trot towards her.
Tilting her head, she looked up through her lashes meeting his stare. Her face adorably flushed from all the excitement and her blue eyes sparkling impishly.
He smiled at her and returned, “Indeed it is.”
She looked up at the sky, continuing, “I hope the weather holds out. At least until we have finished our picnic.”
“Yes, I would hate for all of your planning to be for naught.”
“The fresh air is divine, but I can smell rain coming.” She wrinkled her nose delicately sniffing the air.
She twirled a parasol, a sunny yellow confection that perfectly matched her gown. Her head covered by a wide-brimmed chip bonnet decorated with a profuse amount of happy daisies, as Poppy liked to call them, with matching yellow ribbons fluttering in the breeze. A smile widened his mouth transforming his features as he feasted his eyes on her, he felt like a child with his face pressed up against a storefront window with a shiny new penny clutched desperately in his hand. “So are we going to talk about the weather all afternoon?”
“It is polite conversation.” He was quite splendid, she thought, especially when his eyes were alive with amusement.
“Poppy, please stop looking at me that way or I cannot be held responsible for my actions.” He groaned.
Poppy took a deep breath inhaling his lovely scent, soap and man mixed with the outdoors. It was intoxicating. “I apologize, Declan.” She glanced discreetly over her shoulder to see if they were in a position to be overheard. “I would hate to cause you any discomfort.” They gazed heatedly into each other’s eyes.
“Poppy?”
Vulnerability swirled around her; she lifted her eyes inquiringly to his.
“You are exquisite. You are resplendent in this yellow attire, even more so than this glorious sunshine.” He scanned her face raptly. Hidden from the others by her twirling parasol and large wide-brimmed hat, he dipped under the brim and quickly stole a kiss from her smiling lips.
She felt herself blush at his attentions. “How very kind of you to say, Your Grace.” She smiled playfully. Unconsciously pressing herself closer, feeling her heart beating faster. A thoughtful look came across her face when looked up at him.
The whisper of a breeze stirred the golden curls at her nape and molded the flimsy muslin of her dress to her slender curves. Her tiny feet were in the most adorable kid half boots he had ever seen, and he must be completely gone to notice such a thing. Boots? His mouth suddenly felt extremely dry.
Flashing her one of his charismatic smiles he blurted out, “I am starved. Do you know what Mrs. Hastings has packed for our picnic today?”
“Hmmm…she probably packed cold chicken, biscuits, cheese, oh and her wonderful plum cake.” She glanced up at him. “It’s quite delightful.”
“I definitely find one thing about Rosebriar delightful.” He gave her a dark and potent look. “I find everything else only agreeable.” Looking around at the lush green land and the extensive woods that surrounded the park, he could definitely comprehend how this held more of a draw for Poppy than the overcrowded dirty streets of London. “It’s almost as impressive as Allingham Park.” He smirked.
“Well, I will believe that once I see it. There is no place as wonderful as Rosebriar, at least in my way of thinking.”
“I hope you will be able to see it soon,” he knew he spoke cryptically.
She skipped lightly, trying to keep up with his long striding steps. Georgie ambled quickly after them. “Are we racing?” Poppy asked. “What is our prize to be, if we are the first to the lake?” Poppy teased.
Laughing, he slowed down. Leaning towards her in order to whisper, he lifted his brow, “Perhaps another kiss?”
Her steps faltered the feel of Declan’s fingertips on her nape sent shivers all the way to her toes. She gurgled with laughter. Not an artificial sound, but full-bodied and animated.
“Well, my lord,” she said, looking flirtatiously through her lashes. “By all means please, let us hurry. I would hate for someone else to steal my kiss.”
“Poppy, wait,” Piper called.
Turning, Poppy groaned as she watched her sister running lightly towards her.
“I was just informed that Agnes has arrived. She is a day early.” Taking a deep breath, she continued with a wide smile. “I am going to head back to the house.” She grinned, waving her fingers. “We will meet everyone back at the lake in a little while,” she called, running happily back to the house.
Chloe rushed to Poppy’s side linking their arms. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. “Ahhh…this is so magnificent.” Opening her eyes, she surveyed the oasis in front of her. “I never get tired of this view.” The water glittered with the bright rays of sun filtering through the tall trees that flanked the banks of the lake.
Georgie took off running and barking after the ducks, the loud quacking provoking him even further. Poppy giggled affectionately.
Declan gazed down at her for a long moment, longing to kiss her lips again, but he would have to settle for lifting her hand to his lips, pressing a warm moist kiss to the inside of her wrist. Reluctantly releasing her hand, he headed toward the men.
The tree lined path to the lake wound through the woods for about half a mile opening up to the carp filled water a favorite fishing spot for most of the male visitors to Rosebriar. Tackle supplied for any of the men who wanted to try their hand at fishing, which by the looks of it all of them did. They quickly gathered up the equipment and wandered to the far end of the lake for ‘quiet’, stating that the excessively loud talking and giggling from the women would scare away all of the fish.
Georgie, turning traitor, followed eagerly after the men barking and nipping at their heels, his tail wagging happily.
Like a rainbow that appears after a storm the women in their brightly colored dresses situated themselves comfortably on the sun-kissed rocks, twirling their parasols of yellow, blue, green and pink creating a soothing breeze to ward off the rising heat of the day. Each content to sit quietly, at least for a moment and watch the row of handsome men before them catch their so-called supper.
The lake was perfect setting for their outing. Benches strategically placed around the lake for added comfort. This morning, a white canvas pavilion, hammered into place near the lake to shield the food from the heat of the day, and finally bags with jugs of lemonade and beer floated in the water to keep cool.
Lowering her frivolous parasol and removing her ridiculously wide-brimmed hat, Poppy lifted her face to the sun and sighed happily. Her curls now revealed, artfully piled on her head with the appearance that they could topple at any moment with the soft breeze teasing them. Everything was going splendidly, she could not have asked for a more perfect day.
“Poppy, you will freckle,” Miss Harris, admonished. “First thing you must do when we return to the house is immediately apply your Denmark Lotion.”
“I absolutely do not care, Miss Harris,” Poppy responded in a singsong tone. “And I absolutely refuse to put that vile cream upon my face,” she languorously replied. “Besides, I am in heaven. The sun feels magnificent on my face. Too bad Auntie didn’t feel up to coming. She would love lounging in this brilliant sun.”
“I believe she stayed back to take advantage of the quiet,” Freya replied.
“You will never find a husband Poppy if you do not follow societies dictates. You know how men absolutely abhor women with freckles,” Miss Harris firmly announced. “The truth is the truth.” She made a harrumphing sound.
“Miss Harris,” Freya smiled. “I don’t believe you need worry about whether a man will be enamored with Poppy’s freckles.”
“I do believe that Poppy has already made a conquest,” Chloe interjected, glancing towards the men fishing.
“Why did you not say anything to me, Poppy?” Miss Harris cried excitedly. “Who is it? I was not even aware you had met anyone?”
“Miss Harris, quit being such a goose.” Poppy giggled.
“It is Hawksley,” Chloe whispered loudly.
“No,” Miss Harris exclaimed. “You have not said a single word to me.” Her hand pressed to her heart. “He is a truly handsome man, is he not? Well worth catching.”
She looked across the lake. Smiling, she studied him. “I would have to agree that he is quite attractive. I suddenly find myself attracted to big, strapping men.”
“I completely agree.” Chloe sighed dramatically. “She could not do any better and he is a duke as well.” She grinned. “He is quite a catch and Poppy was able to snap him up before the season even began.”
“He’s definitely not a fop or a fribble,” Freya added.
“You ladies are being ridiculous. Hawksley and I have no understanding.” She snorted, looking up at Georgie’s persistent barking, “Oh look, here comes Piper and Agnes.” She rose to greet them.
Agnes had the appearance of a little gray mouse. Her face consisted of a little pointy nose and chin. She was thin and pale which she emphasized by the copious amounts of plain gray cloth that seemed to cover her from head to toe. She did have such a lovely disposition, though and she had potential to be such a beautiful creature, if she would only add a little color.
“Agnes,” Poppy greeted her as she took her hand. “We have all been awaiting your arrival. How happy we are that you are finally here.” Poppy smiled. “Did you have a pleasant trip?”
“Oh, to be sure, Poppy, you are always such a dear.” Agnes smiled serenely. “We were blessed with lovely weather the whole way.” Looking up, her face puckered worriedly. “But I fear I may have brought rain with me, though.”
“Don’t fret, my dear. We have plenty to do indoors if it should choose to rain.” Poppy took her arm. “You must come and join the rest of us. Chloe and Freya are here as well.” She patted her hand affectionately. “Besides, you’re just in time for the festival at the school and I know how much you like charities.” Poppy looked at her with a tranquil smile.
“Oh, yes please.” Agnes smiled brightly. Interestingly enough there was not a timid bone in her body. “I’ll do anything you ask of me, such sweet little girls.”
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