Chapter 9
As she sputtered to the surface, finding that task difficult because her walking gown was trying its best to drag her under the water again, relief was immediate when Poppy spotted Clara swimming toward the opposite side of the lake, moving quickly, probably because the water was what could only be described as frigid.
Knowing there was little chance she’d have the strength to follow the horse across the lake, she struck out for the closest shore, her arms turning concerningly numb after only a few strokes. Just as she felt herself slip beneath the surface again, Reginald appeared directly beside her and hauled her up against a chest with which she was becoming all too familiar.
“I’ve got you, Poppy” was all he said before he wrapped an arm around her and began towing her toward shore.
She didn’t resist him—couldn’t really, not with the way her strength had been sapped right out of her.
They reached shallow water in what felt like a blink of an eye, but instead of helping her stand, Reginald lifted her into his arms and continued forward, holding her tightly against him as he stumbled his way toward shore.
They were met five feet from shore by Murray, who was looking anxious, even as he reached out to steady Reginald when he slipped.
“Is she all right?” Murray asked.
“Hard to tell. We need to get her warm and dry as soon as possible.”
Reginald tightened his hold on her as he quit the water and began striding toward the large crowd gathered a few feet away from the water’s edge. He came to an abrupt stop, though, when someone stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
“I’ll take her from here.”
Poppy lifted her head and found Nigel Flaherty standing there, his arms outstretched.
That he was almost perfectly dry except for some water splattered on his trousers lent testimony to the notion he’d not even bothered to try and save her, leaving that bit of unpleasantness to Reginald, though Nigel was directly responsible for why she’d suffered a dunk in the lake in the first place.
“I suggest you get out of my way,” Reginald returned in a very proper tone that was at direct odds with the way his jaw was now clenching.
“I said I’ll take her.”
“I’ve already got her, and if you’ve neglected to realize, she’s soaking wet. You’re hardly aiding the situation by arguing with me, so . . . move.”
A curious fluttery feeling swept through her, one that was obviously a result of Reginald’s refusal to hand her over, that refusal accompanied by what had almost sounded like a growl, which was . . .
The sound of yapping dogs distracted her from thoughts of fluttering as a carriage painted a bright shade of red pulled to a stop before them and Lena Ridgeway poked her head out the window.
“Goodness, Poppy, what were you thinking, taking a dip in the lake? It’s December, dear, hardly an appropriate month to indulge in a refreshing swim.” A dog joined her at the window, licking her face. “Not now, Muffin,” Lena said before she returned her gaze to Poppy. “You mustn’t linger out in the cold, what with how wet you appear to be. Come, join me. I’ll see you safely home.” She nodded to Nigel. “You’re welcome to join us as well, Nigel, after you tether your horse behind my carriage, of course.”
The last thing Poppy wanted was to get into Lena’s carriage, not that there appeared to be much room in that carriage, since it seemed to be filled with dogs. She also didn’t want to spend the time with Nigel, a gentleman who had yet to apologize for scaring the horse, even if he had done so because of a misguided desire to rescue her. Before she could summon up any type of refusal, a young lady stepped into view.
“Forgive me, Mrs. Ridgeway, but you’ve no room for anyone in your carriage with all those dogs you’ve got with you. I’ve more than enough room in my carriage, which is parked only a short way from us. I also have blankets and warm bricks.”
Reginald sent a nod to the young woman before he followed her to her carriage, ignoring the scowl Nigel cast his way and the disappointed look Lena sent him. Lifting Poppy up on the seat, he accepted a blanket someone handed him. Bundling it around her, he edged backward, as if to exit the carriage again.
“You need to get warm as well, sir,” the young lady said from directly outside the door.
“And I will, after I see to Mr. Middleton’s horse, as well as my own,” Reginald said.
“No need to go after my horse,” Murray said, looking over Reginald’s shoulder. “Miss Beatrix Waterbury arrived on the scene a second after Poppy resurfaced. The last I saw of her, she was racing after Clara, and if anyone can catch my high-strung horse, it’s Miss Waterbury. I’ll send one of my mother’s grooms to fetch my buggy later.”
“As for your horse, sir,” another young lady began, looking over Murray’s shoulder and nodding to Reginald, “our footman will see that he’s taken to . . . ?”
“The Van Rensselaer house on Fifth Avenue,” Reginald said.
After calling out that direction to the footman, then calling it out again to the driver, the lady gestured to the carriage seat. “Shall we get on our way?”
“Indeed we should, Miss . . . ?”
“I’m Miss Maisie Leggett, and the lady beside me is my sister, Miss Helene Leggett, but do feel free to call us Maisie and Helene, since it’s less confusing that way when we’re together, but enough of the pleasantries. I’ll thank both you and Mr. Middleton to get settled in the carriage without further delay so we can get all of you somewhere warmer and certainly dryer.”
Even though Poppy’s teeth were chattering, she couldn’t resist a smile when Reginald and Murray all but jumped into the carriage, both looking rather taken aback to be ordered about by a petite lady who seemed completely at ease barking out orders. Reginald took a seat beside her, while Murray sat down on the opposite bench.
“The dogs have gotten loose!” Lena suddenly yelled.
Peering around Reginald, Poppy discovered Lena running about, trying to collect dogs that had gotten free. A poodle jumped up into Murray’s buggy beside the water and dashed out a second later, one of Murray’s boots in its mouth. Lena began yelling for Nigel to give her a hand, which sent Nigel hurrying after the poodle, his attempt to catch it failing the moment the poodle dropped the boot and sunk its teeth into the hem of Nigel’s trousers. Before Poppy could suggest someone go to his aid, the Leggett sisters jumped into the carriage, Maisie Leggett shaking off a small dog that appeared to have attached itself to her skirts. Slamming the door shut, she banged a hand on the carriage ceiling, and as the carriage jolted into motion, she squeezed herself onto the seat next to Murray, her sister having already taken her place on Murray’s other side.
“Mrs. Ridgeway might want to consider leaving her hounds behind the next time she goes for a drive,” Maisie said, gazing out the window and shaking her head. “I don’t imagine Mr. Nigel Flaherty appreciates having the whole pack chasing after him now.”
Helene craned her neck to look past her sister. “He’s on his horse now, so he’s fine. I don’t think those dogs can keep up with the splendid beast he’s riding.”
“Oh, so he is,” Maisie said before she returned her attention to Murray. “Do you know that your lips are a troubling shade of blue?”
“I’m not surprised,” Murray said as Maisie bent over and fished additional blankets out from beneath the seat. She handed another one to Murray and one to Reginald, then bent over again, picking up what seemed to be a brick wrapped in a cloth. She got up from her seat, placed the brick by Poppy’s feet, then lifted her head.
“We need to get you out of your shoes because this brick will be more effective if it’s placed directly underneath uncovered feet.”
Before Poppy could do more than nod, Maisie set to work, grunting as she went about the difficult task of unbuttoning shoes that were soaking wet and obviously slippery. A second later, Reginald took over the task, something that took her aback since it was hardly proper for a gentleman to help remove a lady’s shoe, especially a gentleman who seemed determined to always abide by the proprieties.
A shiver stole through her when Reginald whipped her stockings straight off her legs, but then a sigh of pure bliss escaped her lips when he placed her now-bare feet on top of the brick Maisie handed him, then wrapped another blanket around her feet and legs before he settled back on the seat, tugging his own blanket around him.
“Better?” he asked.
Poppy managed to get a “Yes” through teeth that were still chattering, a circumstance that was evidently responsible for Reginald pulling her right up against him. The heat from his body immediately began to seep into her, that warmth increasing when Maisie pulled out another blanket, which Reginald tucked firmly around the both of them. He lifted his head and sent Maisie a smile. “Thank you.”
She returned the smile. “You’re welcome, Mr . . . ?”
“Reginald Blackburn,” Reginald supplied. “But please, call me Reginald since you’ve asked me to address you as Maisie. In fact, may I suggest that all of us abandon the formalities? Seems like the thing to do, given the circumstances.”
His suggestion took Poppy by such surprise that she gaped at him for a full second, until Murray shifted on the seat.
“I’m in perfect agreement with Reginald,” Murray began, turning to Maisie. “And I know I speak for all of us when I tell you how much we appreciate your kind offer of a warm ride home.”
Maisie’s cheeks turned pink. “I’m thankful my sister and I decided to ride through the park today.”
“We waved at you, Murray, before your horse took off into the lake, but you apparently didn’t see us,” Helene added. “Which was why we circled back, and—”
“Just happened to run across you again,” Maisie hurried to say, sending her sister a pointed look, which had Helene trying to hide a grin as she turned to look out the carriage window.
Understanding was swift, and Poppy pressed her lips together to keep from grinning as well.
Miss Maisie Leggett, a most helpful and charming lady, apparently found Murray to be very intriguing indeed, so much so that she might have—or rather she had—taken to riding around the park in the hopes of encountering him again.
That Murray seemed to find Maisie intriguing as well, what with how he was now watching her, was an encouraging sign. Although, because Murray truly didn’t seem to understand ladies, he was certainly going to need Poppy’s assistance in the matter, if only to make certain he didn’t make a disaster of it.
Snuggling the edge of her blanket up to her chin, Poppy turned to Maisie as the perfect opportunity to become better known to the Leggett sisters sprang to mind. “My grandmother is hosting a tea next week, and I’d like to invite you and your sister to that tea, if you’d have an interest in joining us.”
Maisie wrinkled her nose. “I’m not certain your grandmother would approve of us attending your tea.”
“Why not?”
Helene pulled her attention from the window. “Because we’re not fashionable and are only invited to a few select events because our family has scads and scads of money.” She smiled at Murray. “We were only introduced to Murray because we were present at a charity event that he attended as well.”
Maisie nodded. “And after that event, even though my father made a very large donation, we were still not welcomed into high society because Mrs. Astor considers us firmly of the nouveau riche set.” She blew out a breath. “Our family only made its fortune within the last twenty years, but Mrs. Astor has made it known that to be included within the New York Four Hundred, a fortune must have been held for at least three generations.”
“Unless you find someone within the Four Hundred to sponsor you,” Murray said before he winced. “I’d volunteer my mother for that, but . . .”
Maisie shook her head. “We would never expect you to prevail upon your mother, Murray. When I met her at that charity event, I knew she was not impressed with me.”
“Not impressed is putting it mildly,” Helene added, with a nod to Murray. “Your mother told my sister to maintain her distance from you.”
Murray’s mouth dropped open. “She did not.”
“I’m afraid she did,” Maisie said. “But you mustn’t be put out with your mother. I’m convinced she only warned me away from you after I proved myself to be a complete provincial when I tried to pour myself a cup of tea and ended up losing control of the pot, splattering your mother in the process.”
Helene gave a sad shake of her head. “It also didn’t help your mother’s impression of Maisie and me when mere minutes after the teapot incident, I ended up getting my bustle stuck to the chair I’d been sitting in.” She grinned. “I’m sure most members of society aren’t used to witnessing a lady hobbling to the retiring room with a chair stuck to her behind. But it was either that or rip the bustle from the chair in front of everyone, exposing my unmentionables in the process.”
Poppy returned Helene’s grin. “And that right there is why you and I, along with your sister, are certain to become fast friends, and why I really must insist the two of you attend the tea I’m hosting with my grandmother.”
“I apparently have issues when it comes to tea,” Maisie countered. “That means I don’t believe attending your tea would be a good idea. Helene and I will most certainly find ourselves banished from all society events if I suffer another tea mishap or if Helene gets her bustle stuck again.”
Unwilling to admit defeat so easily, Poppy took a second to strip a soggy glove from her hand, turning to Reginald when the perfect solution came to mind. “You’ll have to take them on as students.”
Panic flickered through Reginald’s eyes as he glanced to the Leggett sisters, then back to Poppy. “I’m not a magician, Poppy. There’s no way to teach a young lady how to refrain from getting her bustle stuck to a chair.”
“True, but you could teach them how to maneuver around a teapot. And besides,” she hurried to continue when he looked ready to argue that point, “you told me at our very first meeting that you don’t own a grand ancestral estate.”
Reginald leaned closer to her, peering into her eyes. “Do you imagine your time under water affected your mind? Because my not owning an ancestral estate has nothing to do with taking on additional students.”
Poppy shook her head ever so slightly because her mind had gone curiously numb—not because she’d been under water but because he was watching her so intently. Shaking her head again, she finally remembered what she’d been speaking about and smiled. “I assure you, there’s nothing wrong with my mind. To prove that, allow me to finish the point I was trying to make.”
Reginald inclined his head. “By all means, continue.”
She inclined her head as well. “Thank you, and consider this: If you’d agree to start accepting money from the lessons you’ve been giving me, and then accept a wage from the numerous society families I know would be keen to bring you on, you might amass enough funds to at least consider procuring an estate.”
“I don’t imagine I’d make enough to purchase an ancestral estate from any salary I might earn teaching young ladies proper decorum.”
“True, but you might be able to, at the very least, buy yourself one of those crumbling cottages I’ve heard aristocrats are eager to part ways with.”
“An enticing notion, to be sure.”
Before Poppy could respond to that, or even puzzle out why there seemed to be a hint of amusement in Reginald’s tone, Maisie leaned forward. “Reginald’s teaching you decorum?”
She nodded. “He’s an expert on everything proper, although he does tend to pontificate on certain subjects, like wine, which can send you into a trance, but other than that, I’ve found his instructions to be quite illuminating. A word of warning, though, he’s rather strict about ladies mentioning their unmentionables in public.”
“Or ever,” Reginald muttered.
Helene’s brows drew together. “But you’re already traveling in high society, Poppy. Why would you need decorum lessons?”
“My grandmother has decided I need to become a diamond of the first water.”
“Why would anyone want to become that?”
“I have no idea, but apparently that’s a status many young ladies aspire to, so Reginald’s taken on the difficult feat of turning me into one of those.”
Maisie exchanged a look with her sister before she turned her sights on Reginald. “Could you do that? Turn me and Helene into diamonds?”
Reginald blew out a breath. “Perhaps, but I have to state that I have limited time these days, what with how difficult Poppy has been with keeping to our schedule. I’m also Lord Lonsdale’s traveling companion, although I haven’t been much of a companion to him lately.”
Poppy smiled. “I don’t believe Lord Lonsdale is missing your company much, Reginald. He’s in high demand at all the society events, which, even though the Season hasn’t started in earnest, must keep him busy almost every hour of the day. Besides, he’s apparently entrusted you with aiding him in his search for a proper countess, and I see no reason why Maisie and Helene shouldn’t be brought forth for consideration.”
Maisie began looking rather horrified. “I don’t want to become a countess.” She shot a glance to Murray, who completely missed the glance because he, for some reason, had pulled his blanket completely over his head. “I prefer to keep my sights set on American gentlemen.”
“Understandable.” Poppy turned to Helene. “What about you? Any interest in becoming a countess?”
“None at all,” Helene said without hesitation. “Although I wouldn’t be opposed to learning how to comport myself better, which might go far in convincing a certain society mother that it wouldn’t be the end of the world if her son . . .” Helene’s eyes widened right before she turned to the window and began taking an absorbed interest in the scenery.
Realizing that Helene had almost divulged something she was evidently not comfortable divulging, Poppy turned to Reginald. “So, that’s that, isn’t it? You’ll take on instructing them?”
“Should I assume you’ll continue badgering me until I agree?”
“Most certainly.”
Reginald’s lips curved just the slightest touch. “Then I suppose I have no choice, although”—he nodded to Murray—“Murray’s going to have to help me.”
Murray poked his head out of the blanket. “What was that?”
“I’d like you to help me teach Maisie and Helene, along with Poppy, of course, some of the basics of how to go about in society. At the very least, agree to accompany us as I take them out in public to assess their abilities.”
If Poppy wasn’t convinced Reginald was a no-nonsense sort, she would have sworn the man was up to a bit of matchmaking.
“I suppose I could help,” Murray said, looking rather pleased when Maisie beamed a smile at him before she nodded to Reginald.
“My mother will be more than happy to pay you whatever wage you feel is warranted. She longs to fit into society and has descended into a rather melancholy state over us not being immediately welcomed into the New York Four Hundred.”
“We certainly can’t allow that melancholy state to continue, can we, Reginald?” Poppy asked, which had Reginald’s lips curving again.
“Of course we can’t, which means the matter is apparently settled.” He smiled. “However, Poppy, I really must insist that you be the one to tell your grandmother you’ve volunteered me to spend time away from instructing you.”
“I’m not overly concerned she’ll take issue with that, although she might be a bit surprised when I tell her she needs to sponsor Maisie and Helene this season.”
As horror once again settled on Maisie’s face and Helene turned rather green, Reginald’s eyes began to gleam. “Do promise me you’ll tell her that when I’m in the same room.”
Poppy waved that aside. “She’ll be fine with the idea because I have to imagine that after she’s presented with the challenge of introducing two additional young ladies into society, she’ll throw herself into that challenge with relish.”
“That’s one way to imagine what her reaction is going to be,” Reginald said.
Pretending she hadn’t heard him, Poppy looked out the window as the carriage pulled up in front of her grandmother’s Fifth Avenue residence.
It was an impressive brownstone, although not as impressive as the new mansions that were springing up on the other side of Fifth Avenue, closer to Central Park. Four stories tall and created in an Italianate design, it sported elaborate carved ornamentations hanging from the gables and a tall stoop with cast-iron railings flanking the steps. The front door, complete with golden knocker, was flanked by two stained-glass windows, and many a guest had been impressed with the way light filtered through the stained glass after they’d been ushered into a majestic entranceway, the receiving room directly to the right of that.
As a footman opened the carriage door, Poppy drew in a breath and braced herself for what she knew was going to be a somewhat questionable encounter with her grandmother. Viola was hardly going to enjoy learning Poppy had experienced another bout of mayhem, something that couldn’t be withheld given Poppy’s sorry state. And even though she’d just proclaimed Viola would be delighted to take on the responsibility of sponsoring an additional two young ladies into society, Poppy was fairly certain that was not going to be the case.