But he had to get a message to Virginia.
Annabel happened to come down the hall at that moment, and an idea occurred to him.
“Annabel, would you do me a favor?”
“Of course.”
“Here’s what I need . . .”
Chapter Seventeen
“How was church?” Poppy asked Virginia when she came into the dining room. He’d clearly been reading the paper as he awaited her return, but now that she was home, he motioned to the footman to serve dinner.
She sat down and removed her gloves. “Church was fine.”
Poppy never went to services. He hadn’t gone since Roger’s death, having apparently blamed God for that. She understood his feelings, but she wasn’t brave enough to stay home herself. People talked about them and their troubles with the farm enough already; no point in having the whole town consider them godless heathens, too.
Especially when she’d felt like a godless heathen, sitting in church and fearing she might be struck by lightning any minute. After what she’d done with Gabriel yesterday, she must have been mad to show up in a house of God.
Still, she couldn’t regret her fallen state. Since she and Gabriel were to be married anyway, what they’d done wasn’t too awful, was it?
And she needed to tell Poppy that she meant to marry Gabriel. How the dickens was she going to do that?
The footman brought out their weekly roast beef and turnips, and she and Poppy made small talk as they ate. There had to be some way to bring up Gabriel without sending Poppy into a fit of temper.
“By the way,” Poppy said as he finished off a large portion of gooseberry cream, “one of the yearlings fetched a fine price at the fair yesterday. So if you’d like a few new gowns, we should be able to manage it. Can’t have you looking dowdy when you marry Pierce.”
Her heart sank. “I’m not marrying Pierce.”
He rose and crossed the room to pour himself a tot of brandy. “Of course you are. It’s the perfect arrangement. You marry Pierce, he inherits the farm, the two of you can live here and run it together—”
“Pierce? Run the farm?” She snorted. “He can’t tell the difference between a grass shoe and a frost shoe, and the only haunch he cares about is the pork he eats for Sunday dinner.”
An uneasy look crossed Poppy’s face. “Still, you’d have a home with him, even if you lived on the estate in Hertfordshire.”
“You mean, the one he can’t stand to live on himself?” She often wondered why that was. It had something to do with her aunt, Pierce’s mother, but she wasn’t sure what. He clearly avoided his childhood home. He did his duty by it, but no more.
“Then you’ll live here and someone else will run the place,” Poppy said, clearly exasperated. “It doesn’t matter where you live, as long as you’re together.” He shot her a long look. “As long as you’re taken care of.”
“I can’t marry him,” she said softly. “He’s like a brother to me. It would never work.”
“It will if you give it a chance.” There was a note of desperation in his voice now. “Come, lambkin, he’s eager to marry you.”
A curse upon Pierce and his nonsense. She should never have let him carry it so far. “Pierce is no more eager to marry me than I am him, Poppy.”
He faced her with a scowl. “Then why did he propose?”
“To annoy Lord Gabriel, that’s all. You know Pierce—he likes to tease.”
“You’re wrong, I tell you. Pierce would never—”
“Sir?” said the footman from the doorway. “There’s a visitor for Miss Waverly.”
She gazed at the footman in surprise.
Poppy scowled. “Who is it?”
“Lady Jarret Sharpe.” “Damned Sharpes. They’re all invading us now.” He drained his brandy glass. “I suppose she brought the rest of them with her, too?”
“No, sir. Only a footman.”
“Send her in,” Virginia said at the same time that Poppy snapped, “Tell her Miss Waverly is indisposed.”
“Poppy!” Virginia jumped to her feet. “Don’t you dare tell her that! Honestly, what is wrong with you? Do you want to cut me off from every female companion?”
He looked guilty. “Of course not. But it’s Sunday, and early besides. Why, we’ve barely finished eating. It’s not proper.”
She snorted. “As if you’ve ever been concerned about propriety before. She’s probably here to give me instructions for home brewing. Lord Gabriel promised to have his sister-in-law help me with it, and obviously he made good on his promise.”
“And got another ally to help plead his case,” he grumbled. “That’s the real reason she’s here, to make him sound good. There’s no point in that if you’re marrying Pierce.”
Actually, Virginia suspected that the woman was here for something else entirely. It would be just like Gabriel to send a message through one of his relations. It would have to be covert, however, since unmarried ladies weren’t allowed to receive letters from gentlemen unless their families approved.
“Whatever her reason, I have a right to entertain whom I please whenever I please.” She stared him down. “Unless you’ve decided to start keeping me prisoner here.”
“Don’t be a ninny,” he grumbled. “I just don’t think anything good can come of your associating with those Sharpes.”
The footman still stood there, waiting to see the outcome of the argument. Virginia turned to him and said, “Please show Lady Jarret into the drawing room. And tell Cook to bring us some tea and lemon tarts.”
As soon as the footman was gone, she headed for the door. “You needn’t join us. Our talk is sure to bore you.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “If you think I’m leaving you alone with any Sharpe, you’re out of your mind.”
She forced a shrug. “Suit yourself. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when we start talking about ale recipes.”
Poppy poured himself another brandy, and she hid a smile. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to worry about him interfering after all. With two brandies in his belly, he’d be unable to keep his eyes open. They could talk while he napped in his favorite chair.
Moments later, she breezed into the drawing room with a smile. “How lovely it is to see you again, my lady,” she said, holding out her hands.
But before Lady Jarret could take them, Poppy said, “Lady Jarret,” and sketched a bow. “What brings you all the way to Waverly Farm so early on a Sunday?”
If Lady Jarret noticed her grandfather’s pointed remark about her chosen time for visiting, she gave no indication. “First, I came to pass on a message to you both. My husband and Gabriel were called away on a matter of family business late last night, so my brother-in-law won’t be able to be here tomorrow to help you with the farm.”
As Virginia sought to hide her disappointment, Poppy muttered, “I’m not surprised. The man was bound to tire of this sort of work eventually.”
Fire glinted briefly in Lady Jarret’s eyes before she banished it with a smile. “Actually, he wanted me to say that he expects to be here Tuesday morning, first thing. By then, they should have completed their business.”
“Well then,” Poppy said, “you’ve given the message. I’m sure you’re eager to return home, so—”
“Oh no, I had another purpose for coming as well. Gabriel said your granddaughter wanted advice concerning home brewing. So I’ve come to talk to her about that.”
“You see, Poppy?” Virginia gestured to a nearby settee. “Do take a seat, my lady.”
“Please, I was just a miss until I married Jarret, and it still feels odd to be called ‘my lady.’ I’d prefer you call me Annabel.”
“And please call me Virginia.” With a furtive glance at Poppy, she added, “We may soon be family, after all.”
“Over my dead body,” Poppy growled.
Annabel blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Poppy sat on the settee, making it impossible for Virginia and Annabel to sit next to each o
ther as Virginia had planned. If Annabel did have a private message for her from Gabriel, Virginia was going to have a devil of a time retrieving it without Poppy noticing.
“Please excuse my grandfather’s rudeness.” Virginia gave Poppy a hard stare. “He doesn’t approve of Lord Gabriel as a husband for me, so he’s doing his best to annoy you. And me.”
With a laugh, Annabel perched on a chair near the settee. “He’ll have to do better than that. I live with Mrs. Plumtree, who has perfected the fine art of annoying suitors and their families. She put Mr. Masters through his paces very well when he was courting Lady Minerva.”
Poppy seemed to sit a little straighter. “That’s because she has the good sense to know that a man must have more than a handsome face and a sly tongue to woo a lady.”
“Yes, he must have property in Hertfordshire,” Virginia retorted as she sat down across from Annabel. When the woman looked blank, Virginia added, “Poppy wants me to marry my cousin.”
“Not because of the money,” Poppy protested.
“No?” Virginia said archly. “You haven’t given me any other good reasons.”
“Lord Gabriel is a scoundrel!”
“So is Pierce. And he, too, has a handsome face and a sly tongue.”
“But he cares for you,” Poppy snapped.
“So does my brother-in-law,” Annabel put in. “You should hear how he speaks of Virginia at home. He calls her the lively marshal of your farm. He says that your inadequate staff may march to her beat like any crack regiment, but they do it with a smile on their lips and a spring in their step.”
That made Virginia go all soft and wobbly inside. “He truly said that?”
Poppy jumped up from the settee. “I’m not going to let him use you to spout his idle flattery, Lady Jarret!”
Annabel blinked. “It’s not idle flattery, I assure you, sir.”
It was to him, Virginia thought with a pang. “Please, Poppy, you’re embarrassing me.” She used the soft voice that usually calmed his quick temper. “I don’t want my friend thinking that we’re rude to guests.”
He stood there sullenly. “She’s no friend to you if she’s here on his behalf.”
Annabel smiled sweetly at Poppy. “Truly, sir, I do wish to help your granddaughter with her brewing. If you’ll allow it, of course. I always think it’s important for a home to have decent ale available for meals.”
“Poppy likes a nice bitter ale,” Virginia chimed in, “and it’s difficult to find one like that in this area. All they have is mild. We used to go to London for it, but we’re so busy these days, I thought it might be nice if I could make some myself. Don’t you agree, Poppy?”
He glanced from Virginia to Annabel, then let out a sigh. “I suppose.” Dropping back onto the settee, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, get on with it, then.”
“If it’s bitter you want,” Annabel told Virginia, “then you have to get the hops right.”
The tea and lemon tarts were brought in just then, so the two women talked over their refreshments. For the next half hour they discussed brewing, a subject that interested Virginia anyway. But since she was more concerned today with trying to get Poppy to fall asleep so she and Annabel could have a few moments alone, she asked some ridiculously mundane questions.
Apparently Annabel realized what she was doing, for the woman described the ale-making process in long, elaborate terms that would put any man to sleep, especially an aging one who’d just drunk two brandies.
Sure enough, after a while Poppy’s head began to droop onto his chest. As soon as Virginia noticed that, she gave Annabel a speaking look. Annabel glanced over at Poppy, then nodded to show she’d understood.
They talked of hops and roasting and the advantages of using malt over barley for a few more moments. Once Poppy started to snore, Annabel said, “I’ve written down some instructions that I hope you’ll find helpful. They contain recipes and such.” She cast Virginia a meaningful glance. “But you must read all the instructions. They make everything clear.”
Virginia nodded. Gabriel had sent her a private message.
Keeping an eye on Poppy, Annabel drew out a folded piece of paper. She leaned forward to hand it to Virginia, who rose a little from her chair to reach it. That was just enough to startle Poppy from his doze.
As he caught sight of the folded paper, he snatched it from Annabel. “And what is this?” he growled.
“It’s brewing instructions, sir,” Virginia retorted as she rose, her heart in her throat.
He opened the paper and scanned it. Then a sheepish look crossed his face. “Oh. It is brewing instructions.”
Virginia shot Annabel a quizzical glance, but the lady’s gaze was fixed on him, her eyes full of worry. Poppy started to hand the sheet to Virginia, then thought to turn the paper over.
A scowl darkened his brow. He turned to Annabel. “It’s time for you to leave, Lady Jarret.”
As Annabel rose, Virginia reached for the piece of paper he was glaring at. “Poppy, I believe that’s for me.”
“It is indeed. And we’ll discuss it as soon as Lady Jarret is gone.” With that, he pocketed it, then went to the door and called for the footman.
Annabel came up to press Virginia’s hand. “I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.”
“So am I,” Virginia said, with an extra dose of emphasis for her grandfather. She was dying to know what was on that piece of paper. If he thought he could keep it from her, he was mad.
As soon as the footman entered, Poppy instructed him to see that Lady Jarret was escorted safely off the premises. But he stopped the woman as she was heading out the door with the footman.
“I have a message for your brother-in-law,” Poppy said. “Tell him that if he shows up on my property on Tuesday morning, I will shoot him. Is that clear?”
Annabel’s eyes went wide. “Very clear, sir.”
The minute she was gone, Virginia rounded on her grandfather. “Have you gone mad? Why would you threaten such a thing? He’s done nothing to warrant it!”
Drawing out the letter, Poppy read aloud, “ ‘My dearest Virginia—’ ” He glanced at her. “The damned fellow thinks he can use your Christian name now? When did that start?”
She refused to answer him when he was in such a temper. She just folded her arms over her waist and glared at him.
With a scowl, he continued reading. “ ‘Forgive me for not keeping to my promise.’ And when was he making promises to you, young lady?”
She fought the urge to blush. “We went riding on Friday, remember?”
Poppy cast her a baleful glance, then went back to the letter. “ ‘But since you said you needed more time to convince your grandfather to accept my suit, you have it now.’ ”
So much for breaking it to Poppy gently.
Poppy glowered at her. “Did you agree to marry the damned scoundrel?”
She squared her shoulders. “I did.”
“You are not marrying that arse!”
Forcing herself to remain calm, she tried logic. “You’ve seen how hard he’s worked all week. Admit it—he’s proved perfectly well that he’s not the soft, indolent noble you took him for.”
“All he’s proved is that he can play a role when there’s something he wants. He’ll do anything to gain his fortune.”
Her temper flared. “He offered to give up that fortune if I’d marry him.”
Poppy snorted. “As I said, he’ll do anything to get what he wants—lie, cheat—”
“Is it so hard to believe that a man might just want me for myself?” She choked back tears as years of feeling unappreciated welled up inside her. “Is it really that impossible to comprehend?”
Her grandfather looked as if he’d been kicked in the gut. “No!” He came close. “That’s not what I—”
“That’s what it sounds like.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “You can’t fathom that a lord of his station and family wealth might truly want me. That’s why you were so eager to
promote Pierce’s proposal. Because what man would want me otherwise, without lots of money to tempt him?”
“Oh, lambkin, no.” Grabbing her in his arms, he held her close. “It’s not like that at all. It’s because you’re so precious that I worry. I want you to find a man who deserves you. A man of good character.”
“He is a man of good character,” she whispered. “You won’t even give him a chance.”
“How can you say that when he killed Roger?”
She lifted her tearstained face to him. “That was an accident, Poppy, and you know it. He’s deeply sorry about what happened to Roger.”
Poppy turned mulish. “What kind of man bullies his supposed friend into risking death?”
“You don’t know that he bullied him.”
“I certainly do.”
The icy certainty in his voice froze her blood. “How could you?” She slipped free of his arms. “You weren’t there.”
He glanced away. “But I know what happened, all the same.”
“How? What do you know about that night?”
He stiffened. “Enough. You’ll have to trust me on this.”
“I see.” Her anger sparked. “You won’t talk about it, he won’t talk about it, and you both expect me just to meekly accept your nonsense and choose between you—is that it?”
He stood there stoically, saying nothing.
“Right. Well, it seems to me that if you won’t say what you know, it’s because you’re protecting Roger’s memory. You certainly wouldn’t hide the truth if it meant that Lord Gabriel was at fault.” She thrust out her chin. “And from what I know of his character, he’s probably hiding the truth for the same reason: to protect Roger’s memory. That speaks well of him—not ill.”
“Damn it, girl, that’s not what—”
When he broke off, she lifted an eyebrow. “Feel free to correct my mistaken impression at any time.”
He muttered an oath. “Why won’t you believe me when I say the truth is more complicated than you think? He isn’t the man he seems.”
To Wed a Wild Lord Page 21