Chapter 8
Fear swept through Reginald as he watched Poppy sail through the air. That fear was immediately replaced with disbelief, though, when she somehow managed to land right on the horse’s back and proceeded to grab hold of the horse’s mane before the horse lurched into a small lake, traveled all of a few feet, then came to an abrupt stop.
His disbelief turned to temper when the thought occurred to him that Poppy, being a lady, had no business trying to stop a runaway horse on her own, especially when he, a gentleman, had been attempting to race to her rescue.
She could have very well broken her lovely, yet far too impulsive, neck.
Kneeing his horse forward, he reined it in when he reached the water’s edge, incredulity joining the temper he was experiencing when he noticed that Mr. Murray Middleton was covering his face with what appeared to be a lady’s hat, frozen still as a statue, his knees drawn up to his chest on the seat of a buggy that was now sitting in at least a foot of water. Forcing his attention from that curious sight, he settled his gaze on Poppy.
“Have you quite lost your mind?” he called out, which had her lifting her head and pinning him with eyes that were flashing with what seemed to be animosity.
“I was about to say almost those very same words to you,” she shot back. “Although I was planning on stating that you had lost your mind, and I wasn’t even considering using the word quite.” Her eyes flashed hotter than ever. “And while I’m certain you feel that peppering your vocabulary with words like quite, zounds, or prithee lends your speech a cultivated air, do know that in this particular instance, quite sounds rather ridiculous since it’s your fault I’m currently sitting on the back of a horse. In December. And in a lake, for goodness’ sakes.”
“I have never in my life used the word prithee, but am I to understand you believe it’s my fault for what just transpired?”
“Quite.”
He swung from the saddle and took a step toward the water, stopping when she held up her hand. “Do not even think about coming in here. Clara has only just stopped moving, but she seems to be a most temperamental mare and one that you scared half to death when you came charging our way.”
“As a gentleman, it stands to reason that the next order of business for me is to get you off that horse and out of the water without you getting a drenching in the process.”
“I’ve been riding horses since before I could walk. I assure you, there’s little likelihood that I’ll suddenly lose my seat and tumble into the water. Your only order of business, as far as I’m concerned, is to unhitch the buggy, which will then allow me to get Clara out of the lake.”
“You’re very demanding.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Reginald took a step forward. “You’re also incredibly headstrong, an attitude I’m going to assume must be responsible for you neglecting to keep our scheduled appointment today. That’s why I was forced to run you down here in Central Park, after your grandmother told me you’d chosen to ride with Mr. Middleton instead of returning home with her. If you’d not missed that appointment, you wouldn’t be sitting in the lake, and I wouldn’t have been forced to try and save you once again. Although, because you do seem convinced it’s my fault you’re in the lake, I apologize about that.”
“Not that I’m an expert on expected behavior, Reginald, but I don’t believe it’s appropriate for you to be wasting precious time yelling at me right now, nor do I believe an apology should be rendered in such a thunderous tone of voice,” Poppy all but yelled back at him.
The very idea that he had been yelling left him speechless. But before he could find his voice and beg Poppy’s pardon again, Mr. Middleton lowered the hat that had been covering his face.
“I’m certain Poppy must have simply lost track of the time, Mr. Blackburn, because Mrs. Van Rensselaer did call out to us about a scheduled appointment Poppy was not to miss as we were driving away. However, since I did remind her of that appointment, and I did see her pull out a watch from her reticule not that long—” He stopped talking when Poppy let out a noise that sounded somewhat like an angry cat.
“Thank you for that bit of unsolicited commentary, Murray. Very helpful.” She turned back to Reginald. “Did you ever consider that I might have missed our appointment so as to spare you from wasting further time on me, since your endeavor to turn me into a diamond of the first water is certain to fail?”
Reginald’s brows drew together. “I might need you to expand a touch on what is clearly a grasping-at-straws attempt on your part.”
She gave a wave of a hand. “I’m not grasping at straws, although my explanation only just came to me, and probably on the wind that seems to be rushing over the water I’m in.”
“Is that a not-so-subtle hint that you’re ready for me to rescue you now?” He took another step toward the water, stilling when the horse Poppy was on let out a whinny and lunged forward, taking Poppy, along with Mr. Middleton and his buggy, another foot into the lake.
“Best give her another minute,” Poppy called, running a soothing hand over the horse’s neck, which seemed to keep the horse from traveling farther into the lake. “Where was I? Oh yes, I was going to explain how I was sparing you the grave disappointment of not being able to turn me into a diamond of the first water.”
“I don’t remember you saying a thing about sparing me a grave disappointment.”
Poppy smiled. “Just came to me as I was plunging deeper into the lake, a circumstance that had me realizing exactly how to explain why your efforts will certainly fail.”
“I’m listening,” he was forced to call out when Poppy suddenly bent over and began whispering into the horse’s ear.
“You obviously don’t listen to your own lessons because I distinctly remember you telling me that patience is expected of society members, but you’re not being very patient with me,” she said, straightening and taking a second to pull her skirt over a knee she apparently only then realized was exposed. “Now, to continue my explanation regarding why you’re certain to fail, know this; even though you’re more than proficient with your knowledge about etiquette and expected behavior, you can’t control my propensity for landing in the most ridiculous of situations.”
“I see no reason to deny you that particular argument,” he said.
“Then you shouldn’t deny that you’re destined for failure because you have absolutely no way of teaching me how to avoid such situations.”
“If you’d kept our appointment today, you wouldn’t be in your current situation,” he pointed out.
Poppy, to his annoyance, ignored that. “Do know that it doesn’t bother me in the least that you’re doomed for failure with turning me into a diamond of the first water. If you ask me, that goal seems unusually frivolous. I’d much rather spend my time pursuing worthier endeavors, and perhaps I should also consider encouraging other society ladies to do the same.”
“Oh . . . I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” Reginald said slowly.
“Society ladies,” Poppy continued as if he’d not spoken, “what with the resources we command, should be trying to make a difference in the world, not merely pursuing one amusement after another. Why, it’s downright disturbing that so many ladies are praised for supporting their chosen noble cause when it seems to me that support only requires sending out a bit of money, instead of getting into the trenches.”
“Ladies aren’t expected to get into trenches.”
She threw up her hands. “Would you please stop lecturing me? It’s incredibly maddening.”
“But he’s right,” Mr. Middleton chimed in. “Ladies are expected to keep themselves well removed from unpleasantness. My mother has always said so.”
Poppy immediately turned flashing eyes Mr. Middleton’s way. “You are not helping me to stifle the distinct urge I’m currently feeling to box your ears, which might, hopefully, knock some sense into you.”
“You want to box my ears because I disclosed that ladies are expected to remain untouched by unpleasantness?” Mr. Middleton asked.
“Yes, but more importantly, I want to box your ears because you had no business taking out a horse you have little ability to control. You are a danger not only to yourself but to every poor soul who made the horrible decision to take a turn around Central Park today. You’re lucky Clara didn’t plow anyone over.”
Mr. Middleton’s brows drew together. “I’ve never suffered a mishap with the horse I usually drive about town.”
“Then why, pray tell, did you not bring that horse out today?”
“Because Esmerelda is eighteen years old, and she prefers spending her time eating oats in her stall. She flatly refused to budge out of her stall three weeks ago, which is exactly why my mother acquired Clara for me after she decided the bays were too much for me to handle.”
“Clara is too much for you to handle. She’s clearly not been trained properly to pull a buggy through crowds. Frankly, I have no notion as to why anyone would purchase a horse that doesn’t even respond to her name.”
Mr. Middleton shifted on the seat as two bright patches of red stained his cheeks. “Clara might not respond to her name because I only renamed her this morning, something I do believe I mentioned earlier when I said I’d only recently named her.”
Poppy’s brows drew together. “I must have missed the significance of that, but do you know anything at all about horses?”
“Am I setting myself up for a blistering lecture if I admit my education as pertains to horses may be somewhat lacking?”
Poppy’s shoulders drooped just a touch. “I suppose, given what you disclosed to me about your upbringing, that it shouldn’t come as a surprise that your education regarding horses has been deficient. Nevertheless, your mother has not done you any favors by allowing you to be so blatantly ignorant of an animal that’s essential for transportation. I suppose, since you and I are friends, there’s nothing left to do but to offer to teach you the basics about horses.”
Reginald cleared his throat. “While that’s very generous of you to offer, now doesn’t seem like the best time to give Mr. Middleton a lesson. You are, in case you’ve forgotten, sitting on a horse in a lake in December, and the wind seems to be picking up again.”
“Since neither you or Murray have bothered to unhitch the carriage as of yet, it seems to be the perfect time.”
His lips twitched. “You do know you’re exhausting, don’t you?”
“When you pair that with being headstrong and tenacious, one must wonder why you seem keen to continue instructing me.”
Reginald found he had no easy reply to that. She was headstrong, tenacious, and exhausting. However, because Charles had mentioned that Poppy was on his list of potential heiresses, there was a chance Charles would decide she was the heiress for him, which meant he really had no choice but to continue on with her and try his hardest to turn her into a proper lady.
That he felt the oddest urge to discourage Charles from keeping Poppy on his list, but not because she was ill equipped to be a countess, was disconcerting to say the least, especially since Reginald knew the real reason for wanting to discourage Charles was this—
He, Reginald Blackburn, second son of a duke, found Miss Poppy Garrison somewhat fascinating.
“Not that I want to interrupt what is undoubtedly one of the most riveting conversations I’ve heard in years,” Murray suddenly said, leaning forward on the buggy seat, “nor do I want to delay your getting out of the lake, Poppy, but I feel the need to explain why I believed that Clara would be easily handled. That explanation might allow you to conclude I’m not a completely inadequate sort.”
Trepidation was swift, but before Reginald could warn Murray to have a care, Poppy was arching a brow.
“I’m listening.”
“She’s a she” was the only explanation Murray gave, which immediately had Reginald bracing himself as Poppy drew herself up.
“She’s a she?” she repeated.
“Indeed.” Murray gave a bob of his head. “As such, she should possess a gentle temperament, much like ladies possess, and—”
“Not only do you know next to nothing about horses, you apparently know even less about women,” Poppy shot back.
“I know plenty about women,” Murray argued.
“You do not,” Poppy argued right back. “Simply because Clara is a mare does not mean she’s possessed of a meek demeanor. She’s a temperamental creature at best, and you should have shown more care with renaming her. At the very least, you should have given her more time to become adjusted to her new name before you took her out on the streets of New York.”
Murray shook his head. “I couldn’t very well have done that, not when the man who delivered her told me her original name was Hazel—my mother’s name.” He shuddered. “Mother would have been gravely insulted to discover her youngest son was tooling around town with a horse named Hazel. Why, she might have taken to her bed for the rest of the winter.”
“And while I can’t help but point out that your mother should have learned the name of the horse you told me she purchased for you before she made that purchase, if she would take to her bed now, you would have time to assert your independence from her.”
Murray frowned. “I don’t recall mentioning that I wanted to assert my independence.”
“You didn’t,” Poppy returned. “But I imagine after your mother learns about today’s events, you might begin considering the matter.”
“I wasn’t planning on telling her about this latest adventure.”
Poppy gestured around. “If you’ve neglected to notice, we’re beginning to draw a crowd. The likelihood that someone won’t mention this to your mother is slim to none.”
As Murray turned on the seat, Reginald glanced around, refusing a wince. Crowds were, indeed, beginning to gather, all of whom were casting their attention to the curious scene of a lady dressed in a lovely green walking dress who was sitting astride a horse, showing a rather shocking amount of ankle.
Knowing there was little chance Poppy would react well if he plowed through the water and snatched her off the horse so she’d no longer be the object of such scrutiny, Reginald returned his attention to Murray. “What say we get the buggy unhitched so we can then cajole Poppy and your temperamental horse out of the lake before every member of the New York Four Hundred shows up?”
Murray blinked. “You want me to get into the lake?”
“Unless you have a better suggestion of how to go about unhitching the buggy, yes, you’ll need to get into the lake.”
“I’m not really proficient with such matters and will probably only slow down the process of getting the buggy unhitched.”
Reginald stepped closer to Murray’s buggy and lowered his voice. “While I understand your reluctance to wade into water that is certainly going to be frigid, you are a gentleman. We gentlemen are occasionally required to insert ourselves into situations that are not to our liking, but you see, that’s what makes us gentlemen. Surely your father has mentioned the rules of gentlemen to you a time or two over the years, hasn’t he?”
“My father died over five years ago, but before he died, he didn’t really have much time for me, preferring to spend his time with my older and far more masculine brothers.”
Reginald suddenly found himself without a reply to what had apparently been an unexpected admission on Murray’s part, given the flaming color now staining his cheeks.
Even though his father, Richard Blackburn, Duke of Sutherland, had far too many demands on his time, he had never used his lofty status as an excuse to ignore his two sons.
Richard had always been of the firm belief that gentlemen were made, not born into that role. He also believed it was his responsibility to ensure that Reginald, along with his older brother, Liam, who was the heir to the title and possessed his own title of Marquis of Stratford, were given the tools to become true gentlemen. He’d never once shown Liam favoritism, even with Liam being the firstborn and heir.
It was little wonder Murray lacked the confidence one expected in a gentleman, but that lack of confidence was not going to be cured if the man was continually excused from stepping into that role.
“I have no idea why I just disclosed that to you, since we barely know each other.”
Shaking himself back to the unlikely situation at hand, Reginald frowned. “I imagine you did so because it’s something that’s been weighing on your mind. But I should beg your pardon for broaching such a personal question, although since the topic has been broached, I now feel the need to lend you some unsolicited advice.”
“What is it with everyone wanting to advise and improve me today?”
Reginald bit back a smile and nodded toward the crowd that was growing ever larger on the banks of the small lake. “As Poppy pointed out, we are garnering quite the audience, many of whom are members of the feminine set.”
Murray twisted around on the seat. “On my word but there do seem to be many ladies looking our way.” He raised a hand and gave a feeble wave to two young ladies who were waving back at them. He turned back to Reginald. “I believe you’ve attracted the notice of Miss Maisie Leggett and her sister, Miss Helene Leggett.”
“I’m relatively certain I’m not the one who has attracted their notice,” Reginald said.
“Surely you’re mistaken,” Murray breathed, turning ever so discreetly around again and then stiffening before he gave another feeble wave. “Why do you imagine they’re waving at me?”
“You truly don’t understand women, do you?”
Murray blew out a breath. “Not really.” He glanced to Poppy, who was leaning over Clara, whispering again into the horse’s ear. “But don’t tell Poppy. I don’t want her to turn smug.”
“Your secret is safe with me, and as for the waving ladies, I have to believe they’re waving because one of the Leggett sisters fancies you. That’s why I’m now going to impart some advice about embracing the role of a true gentleman.”
“Will that advice explain why one of the Leggett sisters might fancy me?”
“We don’t have that much time.”
Murray blew out a breath. “Since we’re less than acquainted with each other, Mr. Blackburn, it seems somewhat peculiar that you’ve decided to impart advice to me in the first place.”
“True, and it’s Reginald, if you don’t mind, because you must know Poppy is certain to begin harping at both of us if we don’t begin addressing each other by our given names.”
A ghost of a smile flickered over Murray’s face. “She does seem prone to harping, so please, call me Murray.”
“Are the two of you talking about me?” Poppy suddenly yelled. “And if so, allow me to point out that the wind is picking up and, if you’ve forgotten, I’m still sitting in the lake.”
“In short,” Reginald hurried to say, surprised to feel his lips twitch at Poppy’s look of exasperation, “gentlemen are often required to attend to matters that are less than pleasant in order to assist a damsel in distress.”
“Poppy doesn’t really fit the role of a true damsel in distress.”
“Agreed, but she has asked us to unhitch the buggy, and because I’m sure the Leggett sisters will be suitably impressed if you lend your assistance to a lady they probably assume is in distress, I’m going to encourage you to hop in the water with me and get down to business.”
“I can take off my shoes and socks, though, can’t I?”
“A sensible action to be certain,” Reginald agreed, shrugging out of his jacket before he kicked off his shoes, stripped off his socks, then tossed everything onto the bank and turned back to Murray.
Murray, he couldn’t help but notice, seemed to be trying to hide the boots he’d just removed, and given the size of the heel on those boots, Reginald wasn’t exactly surprised the young man had tried to cover them with his jacket.
“My mother believes heeled boots help me strike an attitude of authority,” Murray said when he realized Reginald had noticed his attempt at concealment.
“Height has nothing to do with assuming an air of authority. Confidence does, which means you need to throw back your shoulders, keep your head up, and jump right off that seat with a sense of purpose.”
Even though Murray released what could only be described as a shriek once his feet hit the cold water, he did throw back his shoulders as he sloshed through the water. Coming to a stop directly beside his horse, he released another small shriek when the horse shied away from him, but Poppy brought the mare back under control a mere second later. Once Reginald was certain the horse was not going to bolt again, and after he explained to Murray the basics of how to unbuckle and unharness the buggy, the two men set to work, joined a short time later by three other men who’d abandoned their socks and shoes and offered to assist them in wrestling the buggy out of the water after they’d gotten it unhitched.
Turning back to the lake after the buggy was returned to dry land, Reginald discovered Poppy smiling at all the men who’d helped them, her smile apparently responsible for those men smiling back at her and immediately calling out offers of help to get her and the horse out of the water.
“While I do thank you,” she said with an even wider smile, which left one of the men wobbling around, as if he’d lost his sense of balance, “I’m fine. If all of you will simply allow me some room, I’ll—”
“Miss Garrison! Do hold steady, my dear lady, and don’t fret. I’ll have you out of that cold water in a thrice.”
Before Reginald could do more than turn to the man who’d shouted that nonsense, Nigel Flaherty was racing his stallion for the lake, even though Poppy was waving for him to stop.
The second Nigel’s horse hit the water, Clara lunged forward. With flailing arms and billowing fabric, Poppy hung on for a good few seconds, until Clara reached a spot where she was out of her depth and disappeared beneath the water, taking Poppy with her.