Chapter 6

Reginald pushed the glass of lemonade into Charles’s hand the second he noticed how unsteady Poppy seemed to be on her feet. Rushing forward, fear coursed through him when she suddenly began to topple over the balcony. Thrusting aside a lady who’d been blocking his path, he barely managed to snag hold of Poppy’s ankle before she completely disappeared.

With her gown falling up past her knees, exposing petticoats and stockinged legs, Poppy was, concerningly enough, not making a single sound as she dangled from the balcony, nor were any of the guests at the Metropolitan making any noise either, which lent the situation a rather surreal air.

“I’ll help you,” Nigel Flaherty said, appearing by Reginald’s side.

Grateful for the assistance, Reginald kept a firm grip on Poppy’s ankle as he leaned over the balcony, pulling Poppy upward as Nigel leaned over the balcony as well, grabbing hold of Poppy’s other leg, and together they pulled her to safety.

Alarm was immediate as Reginald helped her find her feet and got a look at her pale face.

“I can’t breathe,” she uttered right before her eyes fluttered shut and her body went limp.

Reginald caught her before she hit the ground. He lifted her in his arms “She’s going to need some privacy, which means everyone needs to leave. Now.”

“I’m not leaving,” Viola argued.

“I didn’t mean you,” he said, striding with Poppy to the sitting room as Charles pulled the curtains closed and ushered everyone out of the Van Rensselaer box, shutting the door behind him.

“I need to loosen her laces,” he said, turning Poppy over and ignoring Viola’s sputtering.

“I think not, Mr. Blackburn. I’ll do it.”

“This is no time to worry about her modesty,” he said, tackling the daunting feat of unbuttoning what seemed to be hundreds of seed pearl buttons that marched the entire back length of Poppy’s gown. When he finally got her unbuttoned, he could only stare in amazement at the intricate corset she was tied into. “Why would someone use knots on her laces?” he asked, more to himself than Viola.

“I didn’t want to chance having Poppy excuse herself and loosen them. It would have ruined the lines of her gown.”

“And that was preferable over allowing her to suffocate?”

Not caring for how Poppy’s breathing was still incredibly shallow, Reginald reached out and grabbed a paring knife that had been left on a small table, one used to cut apples Viola had requested earlier for a snack. Applying that knife to the laces, he sliced again and again through the silk until the corset fell away from Poppy’s skin, revealing dozens of red welts on her back.

“I should not have been so flippant about her remarks regarding her corset,” he said, anger sweeping through him. “She must have been in torture all night with how tightly she was laced up.” He glanced over his shoulder, finding Viola staring at her granddaughter’s back, her hand pressed to her lips.

“I didn’t know,” Viola whispered.

“Well, now you do, so perhaps, in the future, you might listen to Poppy when she complains. I have a feeling she’s not one to complain overly much when she’s in pain, but this cannot be allowed to happen again.”

“If you just convinced my grandmother that I should be allowed to abandon my corset, or at least wear a larger size, I’ll take back every unkind thought I’ve had about you since you started my etiquette lessons.”

A laugh caught him by surprise. “You’ve had unkind thoughts about me?”

Poppy turned her head. “Several. Were you the one who caught me?”

“I was, although how I was able to reach you in time is beyond me. I’m only thankful I did. That would have been quite the drop if I’d not been able to grab hold of your ankle. Nigel Flaherty helped as well, and I certainly appreciated his assistance. I don’t know if I’d have been able to haul you up on my own.”

“I’ll have to make certain to thank him at some later date, but as you’re here right now, thank you. And because I now believe I owe you my life, I’ll try to make a concerted effort to stay fully awake the next time you delve into a lesson about wine.”

He swallowed another unexpected laugh. “I knew you fell asleep earlier. And here you told me you’d closed your eyes so the information would sink in.”

“I only told you that because I didn’t want to risk a lecture about how rude it was when a lady fell straight to sleep in the presence of a gentleman.”

“Perhaps I’ll have to restructure how I go about explaining the intricacies of wines.”

“Or you could simply abandon the topic altogether. I’ve never been overly fond of wine.”

“That’s not something you should probably let get out. Society puts great stock in embracing just the right wines.”

“I’m not sure I’ll have to worry about what society thinks of me anymore, Reginald. I’m undoubtedly soon to be known as the notorious dangling heiress, and with a title like that, well, my acceptance into society is all but doomed.”

“I would think you’ll find just the opposite,” he countered. “Everyone will be most sympathetic to your plight, and I imagine that will have you garnering more invitations than you’ll know what to do with. But enough about that for now. Do you feel ready to sit up?”

Instead of answering that question, she caught his eye. “Do tell me that my gown stayed in place when I was dangling over the balcony.”

Not believing it would do any good to tell her it had not, Reginald shrugged out of his jacket. “You may use my jacket after you sit up to cover the back of your gown. I don’t think it would be wise to try and stuff you back into that corset.”

“Why is it permissible for you to mention my unmentionables but a faux pas when I do?”

“A most excellent question, and one I have no idea how to answer.”

“Does this mean I can go forward speaking about unmentionables without fear of a lecture?”

“No.”

“That’s hardly fair, but fairness aside, how much did everyone get to see of me while I was dangling in the air?”

“You’re very tenacious.”

“Guilty as charged, which means you’re going to have to answer my question if you don’t want me pestering you about it for the rest of the night.”

Reginald felt the unusual desire to roll his eyes. “Very well, to spare me a bout of pestering, which I must state is hardly becoming in a lady, the audience was not afforded much time to gape at your, ah . . . petticoats and . . . limbs.”

“How reassuring,” she said as Viola stepped next to the settee.

“I’m going to go and have the carriage brought around.”

Poppy’s eyes turned stormy. “I’m not leaving with two acts still left to go. I don’t know how it ends.”

Viola released a sigh. “You can’t very well stay and watch the end, not in your disheveled state. Why, you’ll be fodder for the gossips for years if you do that.”

Poppy released a sigh of her own. “Which doesn’t say much about society, but I suppose you have a valid point. However, I will expect someone to spend the ride home explaining to me the conclusion of the opera that I’m now going to miss.”

Viola shook her head. “Our time would be better spent discussing suggestions Mr. Blackburn has undoubtedly made regarding how we’re going to turn you into a diamond of the first water.”

“I would think,” Poppy began, “what with how I only recently escaped what would have certainly been a most gruesome death, that you would grant me what isn’t exactly an unreasonable request.”

Viola blinked. “I suppose your request isn’t unreasonable, given the circumstances. Although, you’re not exactly behaving as if you just escaped a gruesome death.”

Poppy waved that aside. “I’m not one to descend into a fit of the vapors every time I land into a concerning situation since, given how often that occurs, I’d spend all of my time in that state. Nevertheless, I’m not above accepting a bit of coddling, which is why I’m certain you’re now going to agree that we can spend our time traveling home discussing how the opera ends.”

“Assad dies,” Viola said without preamble. “And with that out of the way, I’m off to summon the carriage.”

Reginald wasn’t surprised in the least, what with how Viola had revealed the end of the opera, when Poppy refused to speak to her grandmother on the ride home, nor did she appear to listen to any of the suggestions he made about how they were going to turn her into a diamond of the first water—a feat he was beginning to believe was going to be next to impossible to achieve.

Three hours later, as he sat in a deep-cushioned chair beside the window in his suite of rooms at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, Reginald took a sip of tea, staring out into the dark night, unable to settle his thoughts.

He’d known his time in America would be spent aiding Charles with finding a wife, and even though he’d thought he’d prepared himself for that daunting prospect, he’d not been prepared to deal with someone like Poppy.

She was everything he’d never enjoyed in a lady—outspoken, overly exuberant, and prone to the most outlandish mishaps he’d ever witnessed. But . . . there was something refreshing about being in her presence. That notion was exactly why he currently seemed to be in the midst of a bit of brooding.

Poppy was the one who’d mentioned his brooding nature—and numerous times at that, over the past few days. And while he’d brushed her comments aside, he was beginning to realize, what with how there was no other way to explain his current frame of mind, that he, Lord Reginald Blackburn, possessed the propensity to brood.

He’d always considered himself to be a very proper gentleman, stern at times, perhaps, but brooding?

Brooding, at least according to his younger sister who seemed captivated with gothic romances, lent a gentleman a romantic air, which was not an air Reginald ever wanted to embrace.

He was much too practical for romance.

Romance, in his opinion, was highly overrated and caused gentlemen to behave in very unexpected ways, penning love letters and reciting poetry from the most brooding of authors, the one to spring to mind most often being Lord Byron.

He would never recite poetry to a lady from that brooding author.

A rap on the door drew him out of his thoughts. Abandoning his chair, Reginald strode across the room, opening the door and discovering Charles on the other side.

“Ah, thank goodness I’ve finally found you, Reginald. I’ve been searching for you for what feels like hours. How’s Miss Garrison?”

Stepping aside to allow Charles into the room, Reginald trudged back to his chair, taking a seat as Charles shrugged out of his overcoat, loosened his tie, then helped himself to a cup of tea.

“Poppy’s fine, or at least that’s what she’s claiming,” Reginald said as Charles sat down in a chair beside him. “But when you say you’ve been searching for me for hours, where have you been searching?”

Charles took a sip of tea. “Well, in all honesty, I mostly contained my search efforts to the ball I attended after I left the opera. However, after roaming through every room of the house and after I enjoyed a few dances with some lovely ladies, I finally concluded you and Miss Garrison weren’t going to show up. That’s when I made my excuses and took to the streets.”

“You were roaming the streets of New York on foot?”

Charles waved that aside. “Of course not. I hired a cab. But when the driver asked for directions, I realized I had no idea where Miss Garrison lives, so I directed the driver to drive up and down Fifth Avenue, until I realized that there was little chance I’d simply happen upon her house or find you or Miss Garrison lingering outside, what with how the weather is taking a turn for the worse.” He shuddered. “Some of the ladies at the ball told me snow may soon be coming to the city, which will certainly hinder any notion of asking young ladies to go driving with me in the park.”

“Unless you offer to take them for a sleigh ride, which you’ve always enjoyed.”

Charles immediately brightened. “An excellent suggestion, Reginald. But returning to Miss Garrison, I didn’t neglect to notice you’ve taken to using her given name. May I assume that means you’re becoming somewhat familiar with her and have made headway with determining whether she would make me an admirable countess or not?”

“The only reason I’m addressing her as Poppy is because she insisted on abandoning formality between us. I’m convinced she’s done so just to annoy me.”

Reginald wasn’t certain, but it almost seemed as if Charles had taken to hiding a grin behind the rim of his teacup.

“It’s not amusing.”

“Of course it’s not,” Charles said pleasantly, lowing his cup. “When’s your next lesson scheduled with her?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. Her grandmother is hosting a tea in a week or so and wants to make certain Poppy’s prepared.” Reginald frowned. “I’m afraid I might not be up for the challenge I accepted from Mrs. Van Rensselaer because I don’t think it’s possible to turn Poppy into a diamond of the first water, especially since she doesn’t seem willing to cooperate.”

Charles frowned. “Diamond of the first water or not, I find Miss Garrison to be very beautiful, and rumor has it she’s one of the wealthiest heiresses in New York at the moment. Because of all that, I do hope you won’t abandon your efforts. I’d hate to have to strike her off the list of potential heiresses I wrote down a few days ago.”

“You’ve started a list?”

“I got the idea from you after you told me about that exchange you had with Miss Garrison about committing her deviations from expected decorum to memory.” Charles tapped his forehead. “You know I don’t have the gift for remembering things, so I decided it would be for the best if I began writing down the names of the ladies I’m interested in.”

For a man who rarely wrote anything down—or read anything, for that matter—the idea that Charles had started a list of his own left Reginald smiling. “May I ask who is at the top of your list?”

“Oh, I haven’t put the names in any order. That would be taking the matter too far. But Miss Garrison is clearly on the list, as is Miss Tooker, and a few other young ladies I can’t recall at the moment.” Charles leaned forward. “Now, returning to Miss Garrison. What is it about her that you find objectionable?”

Reginald found that question somewhat difficult to answer.

In all honesty, the only objection he had about Poppy was that she didn’t abide by the expected rules of the day. However, she was undoubtedly a lady, which was a mark in her favor, but gaining entrance into the world of the aristocracy was not an easy feat. Someone like Poppy would be eaten alive by the ladies with whom he and Charles associated, and she would probably find herself ostracized even if she held the title of countess.

“She’s very exuberant,” he finally settled on saying.

“That’s it? She’s exuberant?” Charles repeated.

“She also keeps pointing out that I’m a brooding sort, which means she can be slightly annoying at times.”

“You are a brooding sort.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Of course you are. Everyone knows that.” Charles shook his head. “The ladies in London remark upon your brooding nature all the time. They seem to believe that underneath your brooding attitude beats the heart of a romantic. Truth be told, I’ve spent time gazing into the mirror, trying to mimic your brooding looks, although without much success.”

“I can’t imagine why you’d want to adopt such an unpleasant attitude.”

“What gentleman doesn’t long for the ladies to sigh over him?”

“Ladies don’t sigh over me.”

“They do. You just haven’t noticed them.” Charles sat forward. “I’ve always been somewhat envious of that trait of yours, which is why I was rather pleased you announced you’re merely my traveling companion instead of the brooding Lord Blackburn.”

Reginald frowned. “You have no reason to be jealous of me.”

“So says the gentleman who has no need to marry for money.” Charles rose from his chair. “And on that slightly depressing note, I’m off to bed. Can you send Giles over to my room in the next hour? I need to give him this jacket so he can get it cleaned and pressed.”

“I don’t expect Giles to return for hours,” Reginald said, rising to his feet as well. “He managed to get himself invited to a dinner one of the butlers from a house on Fifth Avenue is hosting for other butlers and valets tonight, and I encouraged him to attend.”

“But what use is a valet if he’s never here to assist us with dressing and undressing?”

“You do remember that I brought Giles along so he could try and infiltrate the houses of the New York Four Hundred, don’t you? I’m hopeful he’ll be able to ferret out information that you and I have little hope of getting for ourselves, which will be far more helpful to you in the long run than getting your jacket pressed.”

Charles’s brows drew together. “That does explain why Giles has been conspicuously absent over the past week or two.”

Even though Reginald was quite accustomed to Charles being frequently forgetful, it did still take him aback exactly how scattered his cousin could be at times. It also left him wondering how Charles was going to be able to manage his many estates, even if he did find an heiress to fund the improvements those estates so desperately needed.

“Why don’t you leave your jacket with me and I’ll see to it that Giles sends it out to be laundered tomorrow?”

Charles smiled an easy smile. “Thank you, Reginald. I can’t very well impress any of the ladies if I’m seen in a wrinkled jacket.”

“I think your title has already impressed most of the ladies out this Season.”

Charles’s smile dimmed. “I suppose it has, although wouldn’t it be lovely if I could find a lady in New York who didn’t care about that title and simply enjoyed spending time with me?” With his shoulders drooping just a touch, Charles walked to the door and opened it, turning once again to nod at Reginald. “Good luck tomorrow with your lesson with Miss Garrison. I’ve been invited to ride through Central Park with Miss Tooker and some of her friends, so do feel free to join us after you’re done.”

With that, Charles quit the room, closing the door quietly behind him and leaving Reginald with the distinct impression that Charles was not nearly as keen about securing himself an heiress as Reginald had originally thought, especially since it almost seemed as if his cousin might have, at one time, hoped to marry for love.