by Wendy Vella
“Miss March, my master wishes me to drive you home.”
Startled, Poppy let out a small squeak as a man approached her.
“If you will step inside the carriage, please.”
It was the carriage that had carried her here.
Poppy looked at the driver. He must be chilled to the bone. “Have you been sitting out here for long?”
“No indeed. I sat inside the carriage, Miss March, and kept myself warm sipping my flask.”
“Still,” she said, not moving. “It was wrong of your master to force you out in the cold.”
The man looked horrified.
“My master is a good man, Miss March. The best, in fact, and as I've worked for a few who aren't, believe me when I tell you I know the difference. He did not want you walking home alone, therefore if you would please step inside, I shall make sure you don't.”
She could walk for forty minutes in the cold, or she could travel in comfort and warmth. There really was no choice.
“I'm sorry, but I really cannot accept your kind offer. It would not be right.”
The man thought about that, scratching his chin.
“Seems to me that it couldn't be any more right, if you'll pardon me for saying so, Miss March. For tonight, you can ride home in warmth and reach your bed an hour earlier. Surely your pride can allow that?”
“What's your name?”
“Hamley, Miss.”
“I have a foolish pride, Hamley.”
His smile was small. “Well now, it seems we all have that, but the thing is, unless you do get inside this carriage, I will simply follow you, as my master was most insistent I see you home this night.”
It was the yawn that did it, so wide Poppy was sure she’d displaced her jaw.
“Very well, if you insist. Please thank your master on my behalf, Hamley.”
He closed the door, and she settled on the seat and closed her eyes. Her body was bone weary, and she simply longed for the small narrow bed high in the attic of Mrs. Henry's house.
The drive seemed only a matter of minutes, and after thanking the driver, she climbed yet more stairs to the very top of the four-story house. She'd started on the second floor, and as her finances had dwindled to almost nothing she'd moved into progressively cheaper rooms, until she ended in the smallest room in the house. The attic.
Washing and pulling on her nightclothes in the tiny space, she managed not to bang her elbow on the cupboard this time. Pulling back the curtains, Poppy then fell into bed. Exhaustion dragged her eyelids down and slowly took the smile from her face. She had met a nobleman tonight, Lord Dangerous.
CHAPTER THREE
Poppy woke early, as she usually did. Even after finding her bed late, it was always the case. Raised with eight siblings in a busy household, she’d never had the luxury of waking when she wished.
She washed, dressed, and cleaned her small room. Once that was done, she sat on the bed and wondered what she should do today. Deciding she had no wish to look at her four walls, she pulled on her bonnet and coat, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and smoothed her fingers into gloves before going downstairs.
“It's brisk out this morn, Miss March. Cold enough to freeze spit!”
Charming. “Thank you, Mr. Spindle, I shall have a care.”
The elderly man who was lucky enough to live on the bottom floor and have two rooms to walk about in, nodded, and Poppy moved on. The house was taken up with old people and her, and she liked it that way, even if she had to spend a great deal of time helping them with everything from moving furniture to trimming hair.
Snow had fallen, and the air was indeed brisk. Striding out, Poppy avoided a patch of ice on the path. If her feet carried her by Lady Revel's home, then surely that was not her fault. After all, she could be simply going to the markets. Admittedly that was the long way, but no one need know that.
People like Poppy, who did not have the luxury of a carriage or horse, scurried about with her. Workers, sellers, they were all bundled into layers of clothing like her, but unlike her, most had a purpose. A place to be in the day. As this thought depressed her, she made herself smile. Nothing could come from gray thoughts; her mother had always told her that.
Lady Revel's house was a fifty-minute walk across town. Not as impressive as some she had seen, it was still a great deal more than she would ever have. Poppy often walked along the streets that housed the nobility, and dreamed about living in one of those grand places.
Standing on the path to one side, Poppy studied the house. Windows had curtains tugged shut still. When she'd worked with Lady Revel, they would have been opened by now.
“Good day to you, Miss March.”
“Oh, Nigel, good day to you also.”
Poppy had taken tea with Nigel, one of the Revel footman, and the other staff most days.
“Have you seen Lady Revel?”
The smile fell away. “No indeed, we have neither seen nor heard from her. He keeps a sour-faced woman sitting outside her door at all times. Lord Revel brought her into the house the day you left. She rarely leaves her post, and when she did, I tried the door to Lady Revel's room but it was still locked, and no sound came from within when I tapped.”
“Oh dear, I do fear for Lady Revel, Nigel.”
“As do we all, Miss March. But as we need our jobs, none of us want to question the new master.”
“I can understand that, considering what happened to me.”
The footman nodded. “We all miss you dreadfully, Miss March.”
“Oh, I miss you all too, so very much,” Poppy said.
“The air has a bite today; would you like to share a cup of tea with us then? I'm sure cook will have a piece of cake for you. Lord Revel has not yet risen. If you hurry around the rear he will not see you.”
Poppy had been forbidden by Lord Revel to enter his house again, but Nigel was right, he would not know that she was in the servants’ quarters. Just as she'd made her decision, she heard a carriage pull up behind her. She did not turn, but instead hid.
“Pretend I am not here, Nigel!”
Poppy ducked around him and down the side path, where she hid behind a row of lavender. The cover was sparse, but if no one was looking her way she would stay undetected.
Parting a few of the stems, she peeked out. Nigel had moved to open the carriage door, and Poppy saw a large, black-leather-clad foot descend. The breath lodged in her throat as she watched the man who owned those feet appear. It was him, the Lord of Night Street, Lord Dangerous.
He wore a heavy tan colored coat today; obviously, unlike her, he had more than one winter coat. It swung over his hessians as he walked passed Nigel. With a nod he acknowledged the footman, which was, Poppy had to admit, more than a lot of noblemen would do. His face was calm, and in the light of day she saw it was even more handsome than she had thought him last night. He wore a black hat and gloves, and looked every inch the wealthy nobleman.
Poppy slowly released her breath as she tried to get lower behind the lavender. She had no wish for him to see her today, not after he had told her to stay away from this house just yesterday.
He started walking toward the house, and it was as he drew level with her that he stopped. His eyes surveyed the house, climbing upward, and then he did a rotation, turning as he took in his surroundings.
Poppy drew a sharp breath and swallowed down her instinct to cough as the cold air caught in the back of her throat. Squeezing her eyes shut, she hoped that when she opened them, he would be gone.
“I believe I told you to stay away from here, Miss March.”
Opening her eyes, Poppy looked up and saw he was now directly above her. Looming over her, the man looked extremely large and intimidating.
“I was passing.”
“If that is the case, then why are you skulking down there behind the lavender?”
His words were polite, but his eyes told a different story. This man was used to people obeying his every word.
&n
bsp; “Nigel asked me in for a cup of tea, and then your carriage arrived, and I feared it was Lord Revel.”
“Nigel being?”
“The footman.”
He looked around him, but it seemed Nigel had disappeared, and who could blame him, Poppy thought. She'd flee if she could.
“Have you always shown a reckless disregard for orders, Prudence?”
“That is not my name, and in all honesty, yes, I have. My father often lamented that very fact.”
She thought the corners of his mouth lifted slightly, but then perhaps not, as it drew into a line.
“Lord Revel is home, Miss March, but I would guess still in his bed. I have arrived in the hopes of surprising him. I have no wish to now have to explain why you are here also.”
“Yes, I can see that would be a problem.” Poppy shuffled sideways. “I shall leave at once.”
“What are you doing?”
“Leaving.”
“On your hands and knees? It's freezing, there is snow and ice on the ground, and you shall be wet and cold in seconds.”
“I shall run home. There is no need to worry, my lord. I shall wait for word from you.”
Poppy wasn't sure, but thought he sighed.
“Hamley, take Miss March for a drive around the park, and then to the tea shop on Candy Street. Once that is done, return for me, please. I shall meet you there when my interview is concluded, Miss March.”
“Oh no—”
“For once in your life, Miss March, shut up and do as you are told.” His voice was soft, but there was no doubting the threat behind the words.
“I don't take orders from you.”
“Yes, you bloody well do. Now get in my carriage before I put you in there.”
Deciding now was not the time to pursue this conversation, as Lord Revel was inside and could look out a window at any time, she scurried to his carriage.
“Thank you, Hamley.”
“You're welcome, Miss March.”
When the door was closed, Poppy peeked out the window and saw that Lord Dangerous was now at the front door. He turned briefly and looked at her, and then the carriage pulled away.
Jacob managed to school his features into a smile as the door opened. Bloody woman, what the hell was she playing at? He swallowed the snort as he thought about how she had looked, cowering there behind the lavender. Perhaps cowering was not the right word, as he doubted Miss March was the type to cower.
“Good day to you,” Jacob said to the butler who opened the door. “My name is Lord Hatherton. I have no appointment, but am charged by my grandmother to visit with Lady Revel and give her this small token.” Jacob held out the small parcel he had in his hand.
“I am afraid that Lady Revel is not taking visitors at this time, my lord.”
The man was nervous, Jacob could see it in his body language. His eyes were shooting from side to side, and his hands opening and closing.
“Then I would like to see Lord Revel, please.”
Jacob made a gesture that indicated he was entering the house, and short of stopping him by force, there was little the butler could do but admit him.
“Please direct me to a seat, and then make Lord Revel aware of my presence,” he said in his most pompous voice.
“At once, my lord.”
Jacob was shown to a room. The fire was not lit, so he walked in circles while he thought and tried to keep warm.
He would send out word for his friends to meet him in their offices after meeting with Lord Revel, and then furnish them about Miss March's concerns.
He could still not believe he had found her behind the lavender bushes.
“If I had not seen your intelligence, I would question your sanity, woman,” he muttered.
“I have brought tea, Lord Hatherton, as Lord Revel is at the moment occupied, but will be down as soon as he is able.”
Translated, Jacob knew that meant the man was still in his bed. Pouring the tea, he took a biscuit, and then continued to walk. His breath was forming small puffs of white as he moved.
He had given a great deal of thought to Miss March's claims, and come to the conclusion that she was correct. The woman may be a chatterbox, and slightly erratic, but there was no doubt she had been sincerely worried about Lady Revel. For some reason he also believed in her sincerity. Something about her told him she was a person who could be trusted.
When Hamley had told him she had refused to take a ride in his carriage after she left work at 2:00 a.m., he had not been all that surprised. He had known the woman only briefly but knew she was fiercely independent, to the point of foolishness.
What the hell was her story? Why did she not go home if she was without work, and he hazarded to guess, funds also. Jacob did not believe her tale that there were too many Marches in the family home; there had to be another reason.
The sound of the door opening put those thoughts on hold. He would ask more questions of her later, and then he would also find out her name.
Poppy sat in the tea shop and clasped her fingers together. She had no money for tea, or scones, or any of the delicious little treats she had seen other people eating. Around her sat several well-dressed patrons. This was not a tea shop for the likes of her. This was for people who had money they could spend on fripperies.
“May I take your order?”
“I am waiting for someone, but thank you.”
The lady looked doubtful, and who could blame her. Poppy had been seated for some time, and looked as out of place as she felt. She had been driven around the park once and then deposited here and told to wait for Lord Dangerous. However, now it was becoming uncomfortable, as she was sure the staff thought she was sitting here to avoid the cold weather.
Getting to her feet, Poppy decided enough was enough. She could not sit a second longer and have people cast pitying looks her way, and staff glower at her. She had her pride, what was left of it, and she needed no one's pity. Lifting her chin, she walked to the door, opened it, and stepped outside.
“I told you to wait in there.”
Lord Dangerous was on the step below her, about to enter the shop. Their faces were now a few inches apart. The breath whooshed from Poppy’s lungs as their eyes met. She willed herself not to look away, even though she wanted to.
“I have no wish to wait in there.”
He was imposing. His hat made him tall, and his shoulders were wide, and he had that air of money and power that Poppy was not fond of. She saw a small scar in the shape of a sickle on his right cheekbone, so faint it was almost gone.
“Why?”
“Because.”
“That is not an answer.”
She refused to drop her eyes; the man had probably been intimidating those he considered beneath him since birth.
“It is the only one you are getting.”
He smiled then. It reached his eyes and showed her a neat row of white teeth. He had a dimple, Poppy realized, in his left cheek, and it just added to his appeal, which was annoying, as surely it should make him appear boyish.
“Miss March, will you sit with me for a while and listen to what I have to say?”
“I have sat in there long enough, and have no wish to now do so any longer, and most especially not alone with you.”
He placed a hand on his chest and looked solemn. However, on closer inspection his eyes appeared to laughing at her.
“Your reputation is safe, I assure you.”
Poppy did not like being the brunt of people's jokes, and perhaps she was a tad prickly about this matter at the moment due to her circumstances, but her pride had taken something of a beating, and she had no wish for this man to poke at it further.
“Do you think because I am poor my reputation is not as important as one of your debutantes’, my lord?”
He was silent for several seconds, and Poppy dug her toes deep into her boots to stop them from shuffling as he continued to look steadily at her.
“That is not the first time in o
ur brief acquaintance that you have alluded to my snobbery, Miss March. I find I like it even less the second time. Furthermore, I do not collect debutantes.” His voice rose slightly on the last word.
“Of course you do not collect debutantes, it was simply a figure of speech.”
“May I suggest you think more before you figure your speech in the future. Now, I am finished with this silly conversation and wish for nourishment, so move back inside if you please.”
“I don't—”
Poppy did not want to go back inside, but it seemed she had little choice in the matter, as he was now nudging her through the door with gentle force.
“Have you had tea?” he said, holding out a chair for her.
Poppy noticed that people were looking at her differently now. The serving staff were bustling toward their table, and she hated that because she was with him, Lord Dangerous, suddenly she was worthy of their time and not their pity.
“No, I have not.”
“Why?”
He settled himself across from her, and she saw his question was genuine.
“I had tea this morning,” Poppy lied.
“So did I, but I’m sure there is room in my morning for more than one cup.”
“I am full.”
He studied her and she saw the moment he realized why she had not ordered anything.
“Forgive me, I had not realized.”
“Don't you dare pity me because I did not wish to spend my money on tea in this high-priced establishment. I am no different from many who do not have the funds to sit about all day taking tea. I need nothing from you but that you help Lady Revel.”