Chapter 14

By the time Beatrix returned with Murray’s carriage, Murray was stirring somewhat feebly, muttering something about how he was certain to come down with some deadly illness after Lena’s dog had been licking his bleeding face.

Reginald turned to Lena. “It might be for the best if you were to take your leave before Murray becomes fully conscious. If you’ve neglected to notice, your dogs are now earnestly sniffing him, and I don’t think it will help the situation if they decide he’s a prime piece of beef because, well, that might ruin the poor man’s nerves forever.”

Thankfully, Lena was only too happy to oblige. With a nod to Nigel, who released a rather resigned breath before he returned Lena’s nod, she sailed off toward her red carriage, her pack of dogs trailing after her, although rather reluctantly. After sending Poppy a smile, Nigel swung himself up on his horse and followed Lena’s carriage down Broadway.

“She’s rather odd, isn’t she?” Beatrix remarked, nodding at Lena’s departing carriage.

“A bit, and her dogs are a menace—not that I think she realizes that,” Poppy said, wincing when she noticed a large lump on Murray’s head. “This doesn’t look good.”

Reginald squatted down next to Murray, who was finally opening his eyes. “Do you think you’ll be able to get to your feet?” he asked him.

“I can try,” Murray said weakly.

The second he stood, it became clear he was not going to be able to make it into the carriage on his own, not when his eyes suddenly rolled back in his head and he fainted dead away.

Catching him again before he hit the ground, Reginald hauled him over his shoulder, striding to the carriage Beatrix had found and got him inside as gently as he could.

“Watch his head,” Poppy urged, wincing when Murray’s head conked against the seat.

“If you think you’ll do a better job, then by all means, have at it,” Reginald shot back. “But he’s a dead weight and even though he’s slender, it’s tricky to maneuver him about.”

“No need to turn grouchy.”

“I thought you considered me more along the lines of brooding.”

“Brooding, grouchy, highly irritable, they’re really all the same, aren’t they?”

Having nothing of worth to say to that, Reginald got Murray on the seat, turned, and helped Poppy into the carriage, then nodded to Beatrix who told him she’d follow them back to the Van Rensselaer residence on Hazel.

“You don’t want to ride in the carriage?” Reginald asked, looking up at the large snowflakes now falling.

Beatrix shuddered. “There’s every chance if Murray comes to that he’ll toss up his accounts, so no. I’ll ride Hazel back, thank you very much.”

“I thought Murray decided he needed to figure out how to get Hazel to answer to Clara, which means you’re probably not helping the situation by referring to his horse by her original name.”

Beatrix grinned. “Since the human Hazel, as in Mrs. Middleton, decided she never wanted to see this horse again, I purchased it from her and can now use the name my new horse is accustomed to, that being Hazel.”

“That’ll make you one of Mrs. Middleton’s favorite ladies of the Season.”

“Won’t it, though?” After Reginald gave her a hand up into a side saddle that Beatrix sat on with ease, Beatrix kneed Hazel into motion, stopped beside the horse he’d purchased for Poppy, snagged the reins, then began riding down the street, moving at a snail’s pace because Poppy’s new horse seemed to lack the energy to move faster.

Climbing into the carriage, Reginald settled himself on the seat beside Poppy, then turned his attention to Murray as the carriage jolted into motion.

“How are we going to explain this to your grandmother?” he asked.

“We’ll tell her the truth, of course, although she might not believe us because it’s a rather outlandish tale.”

“You do realize she might terminate the lessons she asked me to give you?”

“Which I’m going to believe you’ll see as a relief, since it does seem as if you are going to be in demand by quite a few society ladies soon, all of whom are most assuredly going to beg you to take them on.”

A sliver of disgruntlement pricked at him. That Poppy didn’t seem overly distressed by the idea their lessons might soon come to an end spoke volumes, and in all honesty, it rankled, while also leaving him feeling slightly morose because, even with the outlandish adventures they’d shared of late, he enjoyed being in her company.

Life was never dull whenever he was with Poppy.

“Viola won’t fire you, though, not if I tell her I long to continue our lessons and that I believe I’m certain to achieve diamond of the first water status if you continue instructing me.”

“You don’t want to become a diamond of the first water,” he pointed out.

“True, but Viola wants me to.” She smiled. “Then there’s the idea that you and I have become friends, even with you annoying me when you point out all of my inadequacies, and I’d miss spending time with you.”

His spirits immediately began to lift, which was telling in and of itself, but before he could consider the matter further, Murray began to stir. Then, to Reginald’s dismay, the man began to moan. Realizing the moaning was certain to lead to something else, Reginald called for the driver to stop the carriage, and a few seconds later, Murray was outside on the street, tossing up his accounts.

By the time they finally reached the Van Rensselaer residence, they’d been forced to stop the carriage an additional three times, and Murray was an alarming shade of white beneath the blood and bruises all over his face.

As Reginald all but carried Murray into the house, stumbling past Viola, who’d greeted them at the door looking completely horrified, he sent a smile of thanks to the Van Rensselaer butler, Mr. Parsons, who immediately came to his assistance. Together, the two men managed to get Murray up one flight of stairs and into a guest bedchamber.

“I’ve sent for a physician,” Poppy said, stopping just inside the door. “What else can I do to help?”

“I think we should get Murray out of these clothes because they’re covered in blood,” Reginald said. “Since you clearly can’t help with that, if you could find something for him to wear, I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

“I would appreciate it,” Murray muttered.

With the help of Mr. Parsons, Reginald soon had Murray stripped of his clothing, sponged off, then dressed in a nightshirt Poppy had left outside the door. The physician arrived soon after that, but when he went about setting Murray’s nose to rights with one good twist, Murray fainted dead away again, and stayed that way for a good thirty minutes.

Leaving Mr. Parsons to watch over Murray after the physician took his leave, Reginald made his way down to the first floor. The sounds of a heated argument led him straight to the library.

Stepping into the room, he found Poppy glaring at Viola, Viola glaring back at her granddaughter, and Beatrix calmly sipping a cup of tea.

“Should I return later?” he asked.

“Don’t be a coward, Mr. Blackburn. Of course you shouldn’t return later. I have much to say to you, so do stop lingering by the door and join us,” Viola barked.

Striding across the room, he took a seat in a chair next to Poppy, turned his attention to Viola, then refused the most unusual urge to fidget as she considered him for a very long, very silent, moment.

“I’m waiting,” she finally said.

Reginald blinked. “Should I take that to mean you’re waiting for me to explain what happened today?”

“Don’t toy with me, Mr. Blackburn. I’m not in an accommodating frame of mind.”

“Understandable, since I’m certain you were alarmed when we arrived in such a deplorable state, but I must say that the situation we experienced today was completely unexpected and—”

“You were only supposed to be taking Poppy out for tea,” Viola interrupted. “And because you know she has the unfortunate propensity for landing herself into mischief, how is it possible you let her out of your sight long enough to become engaged in an altercation with a deliveryman, and then get accosted by members of the criminal persuasion?”

“Well, as to that, you see—”

“I thought you were a gentleman who’d be up for the task of managing her mischief, but clearly, I was mistaken about that. You may consider yourself dismissed from your position as Poppy’s decorum instructor.”

“Honestly, Grandmother, that’s enough,” Poppy said, rising from her chair, her color high and her blue eyes blazing. “Reginald is not to blame for what happened today, nor has he ever agreed to manage any mischief I might get into, at least not to my knowledge.” She shot him a smile, which faded when she returned her attention to her grandmother. “In all fairness to Reginald, he’s been a most diligent instructor, even with me not being as diligent with learning the lessons he’s been attempting to give me.” She drew in a breath and released it. “However, what with how he’s been so gallant coming to my rescue time after time, I feel I owe it to him to now put my heart into his lessons, and in the process, I’m confident I will become that diamond of the first water of which you seem so keen for me to become. But I’ll only attempt that feat if you apologize to him.”

Viola drew herself up, considered Poppy for a long moment, and then turned to Reginald. “My apologies, Mr. Blackburn.”

Reginald managed a nod, even though he was so taken aback by Viola’s unexpected apology that he was tempted to allow his mouth to gape open. “Apology accepted.”

Viola inclined her head and looked to Poppy. “And with that settled, I’d now like your word that not only will you strive to become proficient with all matters of proper behavior, you’ll also strive to refrain from becoming embroiled in additional ridiculous situations.”

Poppy’s brows drew together. “You have my word that I’ll do my best to become proficient with proper behavior. However, before I agree about the ridiculous situation business, not that I’m convinced there’s really anything I can do to prevent that, I need you to agree to allow me to invite gentlemen to the tea we’re hosting a week from now.”

“Gentlemen are never invited to tea, and I’m not certain you’re in a position to negotiate terms with me in the first place.”

Poppy waved that aside. “Of course I am, since I’m apparently the one responsible for landing in ridiculous situations and am the only one capable of trying to avoid them. As for the tea business, I believe it’s an original idea, and one that could very well launch me into becoming a rousing societal success.”

“How so?”

“Reginald has agreed to get Lord Lonsdale to attend, which will certainly have our tea becoming one of the events of the Season.”

“Lord Lonsdale’s presence would most assuredly guarantee that.”

Turning toward the door, Reginald frowned as Murray wobbled his way into the room, looking rather pathetic since the physician had stuffed wads of cotton up his nose to staunch the bleeding. His eyes were alarming shades of purple and black, as well as being swollen, and what little unmarked skin that could be seen on his face was palest white.

Striding across the room to take Murray’s arm, Reginald helped him into the nearest chair, his frown turning into a small smile when he realized Murray was wearing a pink dressing gown, one that had frills around the neckline.

“Are you wearing my dressing gown?” Viola asked, her hand raised to her throat as she moved closer to Murray and looked him up and down.

“I’m afraid I might be, Mrs. Van Rensselaer,” Murray said. “Mr. Parsons fetched me one of his dressing gowns, but since it was far too long, he then returned with this. I didn’t know it was yours, though, but do know that I’ll have it properly laundered before I return it to you.”

“Perhaps you should have considered staying in bed, which would have rendered your need of a dressing gown unnecessary.”

“I considered that, but it would have hardly been right for me to stay in bed when I knew you were probably putting Poppy, Beatrix, and Reginald through the wringer.”

Viola blinked, then blinked again. “That was very, well, noble of you, Murray.” Her lips curved the slightest bit. “Pink suits you, dear. You may consider the dressing gown yours.”

With that, Viola glided across the room, sank into a lovely chair of palest blue that matched the afternoon gown she was wearing, and folded her hands demurely in her lap, apparently having nothing else to say.

Silence descended over the library until Beatrix spoke. “I left your new horse out in the carriage house, Poppy. I also took the liberty of instructing the stable hands to feed, water, and brush him.”

Viola sat forward. “You have a new horse?”

“Reginald bought the horse that was being abused for me.”

“I thought you told me that horse was ancient and on its last legs. Why would you want it?”

“Because it deserves a better life than what it has evidently had thus far.”

“And I had a good look at its teeth,” Beatrix added. “If you ask me, that horse isn’t more than four or five years old, and might, with some proper care, make someone a lovely companion.”

She exchanged a look with Poppy before they both turned toward Murray, who immediately seemed to shrink against the chair he was sitting in.

“If memory serves me correctly,” Murray began, “and I cannot be certain about that after taking what I was told were a few blows to my head, I was under the impression that horse was somewhat intimidating and stood at least sixteen hands tall.”

“He’s not intimidating in the least, even with him being sixteen hands tall, because he’s possessed of a very gentle nature,” Beatrix argued.

“But I already have a horse.”

Beatrix shook her head. “I’m afraid you don’t because I bought Hazel from your mother this morning after she and I had a bit of a row.”

“So you really did have a row with my mother?”

Beatrix winced. “I’m afraid so, and it culminated with her stating she never wanted to see your horse, an unwelcome namesake in her opinion, again.” Beatrix smiled. “Seeing that as a prime opportunity to procure a horse I wanted for myself, although I realize that does not speak overly well of me, I offered to buy her, and your mother didn’t hesitate to sell. That means you do need a horse, and I’m convinced the horse now in the carriage house will be perfect for you, once we have an opportunity to train him up some.”

Murray frowned. “He’s not trained?”

Beatrix shrugged. “Hard to say at this point. But once you’re feeling better, you can come with Poppy and me to Jerome Park. That’s where I usually take my horses when I need to put them through their paces.”

“But you bought that horse for Poppy,” Murray said, sending Reginald a look of panic mixed with a bit of hope.

“That I did,” Reginald began, “but since that horse is now Poppy’s, it’s not up to me to tell her what to do with it.”

“Aren’t you going to be disappointed if she gives me her horse?”

Reginald turned to Poppy. “Are you going to regret parting ways with this horse?”

“I have numerous horses I call my own back in Pennsylvania,” she said. “And while I wouldn’t be opposed to keeping him if Murray doesn’t want him, I think this particular horse might be perfect for Murray.”

“And if you’re feeling guilty about the matter, Murray,” Beatrix added, “you could always pay Reginald the amount he paid for the horse, which would alleviate all of that guilt and plump up Reginald’s billfold again.”

Even though Reginald could easily afford the cost of the horse and wasn’t bothered in the least that Poppy wanted to give it to Murray, he forced himself to nod at Murray after he proclaimed he’d happily pay the cost of the horse if he decided they’d be well suited.

“Wonderful,” Poppy said, smiling all around. “And with that settled, perhaps we should—”

Viola cleared her throat, interrupting whatever Poppy had been saying, as she turned a stern eye Reginald’s way. “You must know that buying a lady a horse is an action that will have the gossips coming out in droves if it becomes known. Those gossips will certainly turn your gesture into something I need you to reassure me it wasn’t.”

Reginald frowned. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Mrs. Van Rensselaer.”

“The purchase of a horse for a lady is a sure sign a gentleman is intent on a courtship with that lady.”

Silence was swift as everyone turned their undivided attention Reginald’s way.

The collar on his shirt suddenly felt remarkably snug. He would have liked to believe that unusual occurrence was a direct result of being the object of such scrutiny, but he’d never been a gentleman uncomfortable with attention before.

That left him with the disturbing conclusion that his feeling of strangulation was a direct result of the thought that was even now whirling around his mind.

While the notion of courtship had not prompted him to buy the horse for Poppy, something of a more troubling nature most certainly had.

He’d been moved by the sight of Poppy’s distress when she’d been standing next to the abused horse, and he’d been powerless against the tears in her eyes. His only goal at that time had been to soothe her anguish, and he’d known without a doubt that buying the horse for her would do exactly that.

He was not a gentleman, though, who was given to impulsive acts, and that the lady who’d brought about such an unusual occurrence was Poppy Garrison, well, it was a bit of an alarming revelation.

She was the most irritating lady he’d ever known, as well as being completely unpredictable. She was also woefully negligent in maintaining a sense of proper decorum. However, even with all her deficiencies, she’d somehow wormed her way under his very proper British skin, and . . . she’d begun to matter to him.

Drawing in a much-needed breath of air, while reminding himself yet again that the last lady he should ever allow to matter to him was an American, and one who didn’t seem overly impressed with anything having to do with British aristocracy, Reginald struggled to come up with some reasonable reply to Viola’s demand, stunned when not a single thing came to mind.

Thankfully, the Van Rensselaer cook took that moment to bustle into the room, bearing a tray of raw meat. Stopping directly in front of him, and without even a by-your-leave, she picked up a slab of meat, slapped it over his eye, and as blessed coolness immediately seeped through an eye that was almost swollen shut, she marched her way over to Murray. After slapping two pieces of meat over Murray’s eyes, rendering that man blind, she marched out of the room again.

“Should I be worried that I’m soon to come down with an infection from having uncooked meat on my face?” Murray asked to no one in particular.

“What in the world are they trying to do to you?” someone suddenly demanded from the doorway right as Mr. Parsons rushed into the room, pulling down a waistcoat that had begun to lift because of the rushing.

“Mrs. John Middleton has come to call,” Mr. Parsons announced, sending Viola a look of apology before he spun smartly around and quit the room as Mrs. Middleton advanced across the Aubusson carpet, not stopping until she reached her son.

Murray, who’d been holding the beef over his eyes with both hands, stripped off one filet, blinking owlishly at his mother who was bristling with indignation.

“Mother, what are you doing here?”

Mrs. Middleton’s indignation increased. “What am I doing here?” she all but shrieked. “Rumors are swirling around town about the unfortunate trouble you’ve recently experienced, rumors I was quite certain were nothing more than fabricated bits of mischief, but apparently, they were nothing less than the truth.” She leaned over and peered at Murray’s face, straightening as all the color leached from her cheeks. “What happened to your face, and why do you have cotton shoved up your nose?”

“It was bleeding after the physician reset it.” The corners of Murray’s lips twitched. “I broke it, you see, after I, along with Reginald and Beatrix, rushed to save Poppy from a band of criminals intent on stealing her reticule.”

Mrs. Middleton raised a hand to her chest. “You intentionally threw yourself into a band of criminals?”

Murray slapped the filet over his eye again. “’Course I did. As a gentleman, could you expect me to do anything less?”

For a second, Mrs. Middleton didn’t say a thing, but then she rounded on Viola, who seemed completely unfazed about having an irate woman in her drawing room, given the cool nod she sent to Murray’s mother.

“I’m holding you and your granddaughter responsible for my son’s condition, Viola, as well as responsible for whatever he’s wearing, which appears to be a lady’s dressing gown.”

Viola drew herself up. “While I will accept responsibility for the dressing gown, since it is mine, even if I didn’t know he was going to be wearing it, I cannot accept responsibility for Murray’s condition. I was not present when he was injured, but I do believe you’re missing the greater point here. Murray, I’m pleased to say, rose to my granddaughter’s defense in what I can only imagine was a magnificent fashion, and at great peril to his person. That, my dear, suggests you raised him right. So instead of berating him, or anyone else for that matter, you should be thankful you can claim a chivalrous gentleman as your son.”

Color began returning to Mrs. Middleton’s face. She opened her mouth, closed it a second later, then sent Viola the barest hint of a nod before she turned back to Murray.

“It was well done of you, darling, to save Miss Garrison, but to spare you from suffering additional mayhem in the future, I’m now going to have to insist you discontinue your association with her. I also must insist you take that meat off your face because I need to get you home and seen by our physician straight away.”

Murray peered at his mother after he lifted one of the filets. “Poppy is my friend, and I have no intention of discontinuing my association with her. Furthermore,” he continued as Mrs. Middleton seemed to swell on the spot, “I’m not going home. If you’ve forgotten, you tossed me out on my ear.”

“That was done in the heat of the moment, brought about because you were being obstinate, a new trait of yours that I’m going to demand you immediately discontinue. You must know I was never serious about tossing you out of the house. And now, with that settled, come along. It’s time you and I went home.”

Murray shook his head. “I think not, Mother. It’s past time I lived on my own, and just so you won’t be worried I’ve nowhere to go, I’ve decided to take up residence at the recently completed Osborne flats. I’ll send my direction around to you after I get settled.”

That declaration was all it took for Mrs. Middleton to completely lose her composure. As she began railing at Murray, who merely returned the filet to his eye and seemed to go deaf as well as blind, Reginald found himself at a complete loss of what to do next.

He’d never been privy to such a spectacular display of dramatics before. Turning his attention to Poppy to see how she was reacting, he found her, along with Beatrix, calmly sitting on the settee, both ladies swiveling their attention to Murray, then his mother, then back to Murray again, quite as if they were watching a tennis match and not an ever-escalating argument.

“I must say this isn’t exactly the homecoming I was expecting,” a voice suddenly boomed over the din.

Reginald turned to the door and found a gentleman standing there—a gentleman who looked vaguely familiar.

As he tried to place the man, Poppy jumped up from the settee and bolted across the room, sidestepping Mrs. Middleton, who’d stopped railing at Murray and was gaping at the man in the doorway.

“Grandfather!” Poppy exclaimed before being scooped up into an enthusiastic hug by a man who was apparently Mr. George Van Rensselaer—Poppy’s grandfather, Viola’s husband, and a man Reginald now distinctly remembered seeing at a business meeting he’d attended with his father.

Unfortunately, Mr. Van Rensselaer was a man who, if he recognized Reginald, would know he was no mere traveling companion, but rather the second son of one of the most influential dukes in Britain.