Chapter 10
There was one conclusion about Miss Poppy Garrison that Reginald could no longer deny.
She was the most exhausting lady he’d ever encountered.
She was also a magnet for mayhem, and yet, she was a lady who accepted the consequences for that mayhem without hesitation, even when what she experienced was not all of her making.
Frankly, he was more to blame for the lake fiasco than Poppy, but she’d flatly refused to accept his offer of explaining their latest adventure to Viola. In fact, after the Leggett carriage had drawn to a stop in front of Viola’s Fifth Avenue brownstone, Poppy had scrambled over him and jumped to the sidewalk, nodding pleasantly to Viola, who’d been standing on the front stoop, looking outraged as she’d gotten a look at Poppy’s bedraggled state. Reginald had tried to intervene on Poppy’s behalf, but his intervention had come to a speedy end when Poppy slammed the door on him and encouraged the driver to make haste from her grandmother’s house.
The last Reginald had seen of Poppy, she’d been marching her way toward the front stoop, apparently determined to face Viola’s wrath on her own.
He didn’t know many ladies who would have willingly taken on such a daunting task or who would have dismissed an offer of assistance so easily.
Leaning his head back against the rim of the tub as the hot water finally began to banish the chill he’d been experiencing ever since he’d gone after Poppy in the lake, he willed his thoughts to settle, admitting defeat when thoughts of Poppy immediately sprang back to mind.
She was an enigma to him, but more concerning than that, he seemed powerless to refuse her.
Her enormous request of instructing Maisie and Helene Leggett in the finer points of etiquette was a feat that was going to be daunting in the extreme. He was not a gentleman prone to accepting challenges that might end in failure, but attempting to turn not one, but three ladies into diamonds of the first water, was a challenge he had little hope of successfully accomplishing, even with Murray agreeing to help him.
The thought of Murray left Reginald smiling as he reached for the cup of tea on a small table beside the tub.
Murray Middleton was certainly a young gentleman who seemed to be floundering quite spectacularly when it came to matters of the feminine sort. Miss Maisie Leggett had been more than obvious regarding her interest in the man, but Murray, other than seeming oblivious to that interest at first, now seemed at a loss as to what was expected of him next. For some reason, Reginald felt compelled to provide Murray with at least a few basics when it came to ladies, although why he felt such a compulsion was rather confusing, and—
A knock on the bathing chamber door interrupted Reginald’s thoughts, and before he could even inquire as to who was knocking, the door suddenly burst open and Charles bounded into the room.
“Ah, Reginald, I cannot tell you how delighted I am to find you still amongst the living” was how Charles greeted him before his cousin threw himself into a dainty chair a few feet away from the tub. “I was about to travel to the local hospitals to see if you’d been admitted there, but Miss Edith Iselin, one of the ladies I was driving around town with today, suggested I start here at the hotel first.” He smiled. “I’ll need to send her a note, telling her I found you in the bath.”
“I think you can leave the bath part out. That’s not really information a proper young lady expects to find in a note.”
“Too right you are.” Charles’s smile widened as he looked Reginald over. “I am delighted to find you alive and seemingly well given the circumstances you experienced today. You had me worried there for a while.”
“I take it you heard what happened in Central Park?”
Charles bobbed his head. “I ran across Nigel Flaherty, and he divulged all, telling me that I wasn’t to worry because he believed everyone was fine. However, given that he kept looking over his shoulder and muttering something about dogs, I wasn’t certain I should put much stock in his assessment of the situation.”
“He was set upon by Lena Ridgeway’s dogs after I got Poppy from the lake.”
“How peculiar. We actually ran across Mrs. Ridgeway after we spoke to Nigel. She was searching for Nigel, saying something about him not showing himself to advantage, but she didn’t expand on that, probably because one of the dogs in her carriage began trying to eat the flowers on her hat. I was forced to bid her a hasty good day because Miss Tooker and Miss Roche descended into hysterics, a state that Mrs. Ridgeway, given the look on her face, didn’t seem to appreciate.”
“I’m not sure what to say to all that.”
“Not much to say, really, except that New York is an unusual place, isn’t it?”
“Can’t argue with you there. But how did you come to the conclusion I might be dead?”
Charles gave a wave of his hand. “Gossip has you all but buried, or so said the occupants of numerous carriages we encountered as I was escorting Miss Iselin, Miss Tooker, and Miss Roche home.” He shook his head. “I should know better than to put much stock in gossip, but you know I’ve always been a man drawn to the intrigues of the day, and how could I not be drawn into a story that had my very dearest friend and cousin dead?”
“You’re a complicated man, Charles—a bit mental at times, but I’m thankful you would have mourned my death if I’d actually been killed in the lake.”
“Of course I would mourn you,” Charles said firmly before he settled his attention on a stack of papers Reginald had left on the corner of the sink. “What are those?”
“Notes from Giles about some of the heiresses you’ve been squiring about town.”
Charles picked up the notes and riffled through them. “Seems like he’s been remarkably busy, given the extent of his notes.”
Reginald raked a hand through his wet hair. “Indeed, and he’d just stopped by to drop off his notes when I arrived back here. Giles took one look at me and ordered me out of my soggy clothing and into the bath, determined to get my clothing to the laundry as soon as possible in the hopes it could still be salvaged.”
“That might be overly optimistic on his part.”
“That’s what I told him, but since he was heading out again anyway, mentioning something about a meeting with a lady’s maid, he said it was worth a try.”
Charles tilted his head. “What lady’s maid is Giles off to meet?”
“Not sure. He was rather sketchy with the details, although he did say he hoped to get additional information about a lady he’s almost convinced will not be an appropriate choice for you, given her questionable character.”
“Sounds like Giles is putting a great deal of effort into researching the backgrounds of all the heiresses out this Season.”
“I would expect nothing less of Giles.” Reginald smiled. “He’s been a tremendous help to me over the years, and not just because of his abilities as a valet. He’s got a wonderful aptitude for uncovering facts many people want to keep hidden, and he’s saved me numerous times from investing in deals that turned out to be anything but ethical. He’s putting that same tactic to work over here.”
Charles blew out a breath. “It seems somewhat troubling to have to resort to such measures as well as a bit disrespectful to all the ladies in question. It’s as if we don’t trust any of them.”
“We shouldn’t trust any of them at this point, Charles.” Reginald nodded to the papers in Charles’s hand. “Perhaps you should read Giles’s notes so we can begin narrowing down your search for a countess.”
“You’re right, of course, but I have to go run down my spectacles first.” Charles set the papers aside. “Can’t see a word on the page without them.”
It took a good twenty minutes for Charles to find his spectacles, during which Reginald finished his bath, bundled himself into his warmest dressing robe, and settled himself into his suite’s small sitting room.
“Found them,” Charles said, striding into the sitting room and brandishing the spectacles. “No idea why I stuffed them into one of my socks, but at least they’re not overly bent.” He sat down in a nearby chair, shoved the spectacles on, then looked around. “Where do you suppose I left those notes?”
“You left them in the bathing chamber, but I brought them out here. They’re right beside you on the table.”
“Oh, quite right.” He picked up the notes, took an inordinately long time to read through them, then frowned as he looked up and caught Reginald’s eye. “Why am I reading these again instead of you?”
“I was in the bath when we first started discussing them, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate me taking over since you did have to go on a bit of a journey to find your spectacles.”
“Ah, excellent reasoning there, and I thank you for being so considerate.”
When Charles didn’t say anything else and seemed to get distracted by something out the window, Reginald gave a bit of a cough, which had Charles turning his way.
“You’re not taking ill, are you, Reginald?”
“Not at all. Just a tickle. But returning to Giles’s notes, anything of interest you want to share with me?”
Charles shuffled through the pages he’d been reading. “He’s listed at least twenty names, then added tidbits about how much each lady’s dowry is rumored to be as well as how much their fathers are worth. He’s added a few personal observations, such as he finds Cynthia Roche to be a bit of a spendthrift, believes a lady by the name of Miss Mary Kip, whom I must admit I can’t recall meeting, is prone to suffering from frequent fits of the vapors, and noticed that Miss Adele Tooker is less than pleasant to members of her staff.” He raised his head, peering at Reginald over the rim of his spectacles. “Why would he write that down about Miss Tooker? I find her to be a most pleasant lady.”
“Many people believe that a true test of a person’s character can be seen by how they treat those beneath them. If Miss Tooker is unkind to her staff, it shows a weakness of character and should give you pause about pursuing her.”
Charles removed his spectacles and rubbed a hand over his face. “Concerningly enough, I haven’t had to put much effort into pursuing any lady since they seem only too keen to pursue me.” He caught Reginald’s eye. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m not sure I enjoy all this feminine attention. I’ve even witnessed ladies shoving other ladies out of the way in order to get closer to me.”
“Perhaps I should begin accompanying you to events, Charles. You’ve often mentioned that I’m an intimidating sort, which might dissuade some of these ladies from pursuing you so earnestly.”
Charles suddenly began looking a tad guilty. “You’re not going to have time to accompany me, Reginald, not when word has gotten out about those decorum lessons you’re giving Miss Garrison. Quite a few other ladies are now determined to take lessons from you as well.”
Reginald blinked. “How did that information get out?”
“I . . . ah . . . might have been . . . perhaps a bit . . . responsible for that.”
“You were either completely responsible for it or not. Which is it?”
Charles winced. “Completely.”
“And . . . ?”
“You know, I neglected to inquire on how Miss Garrison is faring after her dip in the lake.”
“She’s fine, or at least she was when I returned her to her grandmother’s house, but getting back to—”
“Not many young ladies would be fine after suffering such an unusual adventure in a lake, in December at that. Should I take that to mean she’s a lady possessed of unusual fortitude and survival skills?”
“Perhaps, although I would say she’s more along the lines of a lady possessed of an unusual ability to become entrenched in unlikely situations, but getting back to what we were discussing before—”
“Mind if I help myself to some tea?”
“Will it help bolster your courage?”
Charles grinned. “Wouldn’t hurt.”
Returning the grin, Reginald watched as Charles moved to the teapot, poured himself a cup, then returned to his chair, taking three sips before he set the cup aside. “Where was I?”
“You were about to explain how it became known I’m giving etiquette lessons to Poppy.”
“Ah, so I was.” He reached for his tea again. “I believe that came about after I, along with Miss Tooker and Miss Roche, ran across Mr. Nigel Flaherty in the park. After he explained what happened, Miss Tooker and Miss Roche began wondering why Miss Garrison has been spending so much time in your company. I got the distinct impression they were implying you had set a romantic eye her way, and knowing that was not the case, I’m afraid I blurted out the bit about you giving her lessons as a way to disabuse them of that rather laughable notion.”
The fact that it wasn’t exactly a laughable notion at all left Reginald reeling ever so slightly.
“But then, Miss Tooker and Miss Roche began to, well, almost mock Miss Garrison for needing decorum lessons in the first place,” Charles continued, “something I was surprised to hear from ladies who’d been nothing but sweet when in my presence. I realized I’d done Miss Garrison a disservice and wanted to make amends. I then told Miss Tooker and Miss Roche that you were actually assisting Miss Garrison in learning more about what is expected of a proper countess, and . . . that’s why I know you’re soon to be in high demand with the ladies.” He caught Reginald’s eye. “Are you completely disgusted with me?”
“You know I’m not, since you were trying to come to Poppy’s defense, although allow me to suggest that you distance yourself from Miss Tooker and Miss Roche. There are many eligible American heiresses out this Season, some of whom I have to imagine aren’t nearly as unpleasant as those two ladies seem to be.”
Charles buried his head in his hands. “I’m rubbish at deciphering who is pleasant and who is not.” He looked up and frowned. “This choosing an heiress business is downright daunting and I’m tempted to wash my hands of it and simply return to London—a temptation I know I don’t have the luxury to embrace, what with my finances being in such woeful shape.”
Reginald leaned forward. “If you truly don’t want to continue this search for an heiress, we can return to London. I did offer to help you with some investments, which would see a stream of revenue flowing back into your accounts, although it will take time to build up any substantial amount of funds.”
“I’m even more rubbish at investments than I am at choosing an heiress, and I know full well I’ll never have the patience needed to become successful at investing, even with your assistance,” Charles returned. “And don’t forget that my mother is notorious for overextending her allowance, which means any profit I might see won’t last long.” He shook his head. “No, an heiress is my best chance at this point, although I do think, what with my mother’s proclivity for spending money in such a willy-nilly fashion, I might need to consider choosing a no-nonsense type of heiress, one who would be capable of keeping my mother in check.”
“A prudent decision.”
Charles smiled. “And an unusual decision coming from me, but . . .” He raked a hand through his hair. “Do you believe Miss Garrison is a no-nonsense sort?”
For some reason, Reginald felt it difficult to nod in agreement, but when Charles sent him an expectant look, he forced a nod as well as a smile. “She is.”
“She is remarkably beautiful, and rumor has it her dowry is quite extensive.”
“True,” he agreed even as his stomach began to churn most unpleasantly.
Charles abandoned his seat. “Then I’ll keep her in the running. Although . . .” He took a step closer to Reginald. “You haven’t turned a romantic eye her way, have you?”
“Why would you ask me that?”
“You jumped into a lake to save her. That’s a romantic act if I’ve ever heard one.”
“Or I jumped into the lake because it’s really not in my nature to stand back and watch a lady drown.”
“There is that, but do know if you had turned a romantic eye Miss Garrison’s way, I wouldn’t be troubled in the least to stand aside. In fact, I think it might be rather amusing to watch you try your hand at romance, what with how you’ve always been such a sensible sort and definitely a bit disdainful when it comes to matters of love.”
“I’m not in the market for romance.”
Charles sent him a rather sad smile. “Apparently nor am I. More’s the pity since I’ve never been a sensible sort and do believe I’d enjoy falling in love.” He turned and headed for the door. “And on that happy note, I’ll bid you adieu for now. I’m off to take a short nap before I head out to enjoy yet another night of being pursued.”
As Charles closed the door quietly behind him, Reginald shook his head and reached for the notes Charles had abandoned.
While there was no debating that Charles was a most impractical sort, he was a good man at heart and could make the right lady a more-than-acceptable husband.
The problem with that, though, was the sheer number of ladies who were interested in being considered for the position of Charles’s countess.
Looking through the names written on the pages, Reginald suddenly stilled when he realized that Poppy had not proclaimed any interest at all in Charles, an idea that left him feeling, curiously enough, rather relieved.