Chapter 22
“Perhaps we should suggest another task for your mother and grandmother, Poppy,” Murray said quietly, nodding to where Elizabeth and Viola were currently slicing up ham to serve to the people who’d come to the House of Industry for a warm Christmas meal. “Those knives they’re wielding are making me nervous, what with how furious those two seem to be with each other at the moment.”
Poppy stopped mashing potatoes and looked up, frowning when she saw Viola toss aside her knife, snatch up a platter of ham, and stalk out of the kitchen, muttering something under her breath.
What she was muttering was anyone’s guess, but since Elizabeth looked Poppy’s way, grinned, and sent her a bit of a wink before picking up another platter of ham and heading out of the kitchen as well, Poppy was fairly certain Elizabeth had been doing her best to annoy her mother again.
Poppy glanced back to Murray. “Since they’ve abandoned their knives, I don’t believe we need to worry about any stabbings, but they’re obviously not ready to put their mutual resentments behind them just yet.”
Murray’s brows drew together. “Don’t you find their renewed animosity toward each other somewhat curious? They were getting along quite well last night at the Christmas Eve service and were even sharing a hymnal at one point. They were also being perfectly pleasant with each other this morning before I left to enjoy a Christmas breakfast with my mother.”
“True,” Poppy said. “But that pleasantness changed into palatable anger a mere second after my parents presented me with my Christmas present.”
“Viola doesn’t strike me as the type who’d begrudge her only granddaughter a nice present from her parents.”
Poppy winced. “It was more than simply a nice present, Murray. My parents deeded me Garrison Farms in Pennsylvania.”
“They gave you an entire horse farm?”
“They did, and while it was a more than generous gift, it was the one present that was certain to infuriate my grandmother.”
“And the reason behind that fury would be . . . ?”
“Garrison Farms, while a much smaller operation than the new horse facility my parents are building in Kentucky, is still a viable business. The horse farm comes with acres and acres of land, along with a reputation of raising some of the best horses in the country.”
“But your parents are moving to Kentucky. I would think they’d move all the horses there.”
Poppy shook her head. “There was never any intention to abandon the operation in Pennsylvania; rather, they want to expand the family business into Kentucky, where the bulk of the horse industry is moving. The pastures we own in Pennsylvania allow our horses prime grazing land, while the farmhouse I grew up in is a lovely home, and none of us wanted to part with it because of its sentimental value.” She smiled. “My paternal grandfather was born in that house, which is one of the reasons why my parents were willing to go through with having the bank foreclose on their land in Kentucky in order to save Garrison Farms, even though the foreclosure would have left us with very little money.”
“But Viola stepped in before the foreclosure could happen, didn’t she?”
“She did, which is why she’s now so furious with my mother.”
Murray tilted his head. “Because your mother wanted to make certain you have a reason to leave society after this Season?”
“Exactly, and I’m relatively certain Mother also wanted to make certain that I knew there was no reason to accept the dowry Grandmother has settled on me because Garrison Farms will provide me with a suitable dowry—not that I believe I need a dowry in the first place.”
“It’s very complicated, isn’t it?”
“I can’t argue with that,” Poppy said, returning her attention to the potatoes. “And while I understand my mother’s reasoning, and understand that she’s apparently under the belief I want nothing more than to spend my life raising horses, I’m going to have to have a long chat with both of my parents in the not-too-distant future to clear up a few misunderstandings.”
Murray nodded. “You need to tell them that you’re not meant to live on a horse farm.”
She stopped her mashing. “How do you know that?”
“Please,” Murray said as he returned to his potatoes. “Even though you’ve proclaimed time and time again that you’re not suited to society life, you enjoy the hustle and bustle of New York.” He nodded to the room at large. “You’ve also just found your noble purpose, and I don’t believe you’ll want to abandon it to return to a peaceful life in the country.” He leaned closer to her. “I am curious as to what you’ll do with the farm, though. Hire someone to manage it for you?”
“No. I’ll simply ask my parents to divide it up equally between my two brothers and me, something I was under the impression they’d been intending to do anyway.” She smiled. “I’m certain my younger brother, Robert, would be more than willing to take over the operation there, seeing as how he’s completely mad about horses. He’s actually been running the farm for the past few months on his own while my parents have been spending their time on their new venture in Kentucky.”
“What about your other brother?”
“Nathan’s intent on pursuing a career in law.”
Murray frowned. “Seems like you have it all figured out, but, and don’t get annoyed with me for saying this, but what if you happen to find a gentleman you adore who’d want to help you manage a horse farm? He might be disappointed to learn you refused your parents’ generosity.”
Poppy returned the frown. “I’d hope that any gentleman I might end up adoring would want to spend his life with me simply because of me, not because marrying me would give him access to a profitable horse farm—or a large dowry, for that matter.”
“And is there a certain gentleman on whom you’ve turned an adoring eye as of late?” a lady asked from behind her.
Poppy jumped ever so slightly before she turned around, discovering Lena Ridgeway standing a foot away from her, a touch of flour on her nose and a warm smile on her face.
To say Poppy had been surprised when Lena, along with Nigel Flaherty, had shown up at the House of Industry to assist with serving the Christmas meal, was an understatement. But because they’d thrown themselves into the spirit of volunteering, Lena helping with the rolls and Nigel helping Reginald and George set up tables and chairs, Poppy was grateful for their help. She was also wondering if she might have misjudged them, having been of the belief they weren’t the type to want to help others.
“How long have you been standing there?” Murray asked, abandoning his potatoes as he nodded to Lena.
She waved aside his question with a hand sprinkled with flour. “Not long, but I couldn’t help but overhear the part about gentlemen, although”—she caught Poppy’s eye—“I do hope you’re not too disappointed to have lost Lord Lonsdale’s interest.” She gestured around. “He’s not here this afternoon, which does lead me to believe that your unfortunate mishap at your tea might have been responsible for taking you out of the running to become a countess.”
Having been required to spend hours and hours attempting to learn the intricacies of how to comport herself within high society, Poppy couldn’t help but wonder why it was that established ladies didn’t seem very keen to abide by those very same rules of comportment—especially the one pertaining to pointing out unpleasant truths.
Nevertheless, since she knew it would hardly be adhering to etiquette rules if she pointed that out to Lena, Poppy summoned up a smile.
“While it’s very sweet of you to be concerned that I am disappointed about Lord Lonsdale’s lack of interest in me,” Poppy began, “allow me to put your mind to rest. Contrary to what I’m going to assume is popular opinion, I never considered myself in the running to become a countess, nor do I have any desire to spend my life living amongst the aristocracy.”
Lena, oddly enough, immediately reached out and gave Poppy’s arm an unexpected pat. “Good for you for attempting to rise above your disappointment with such a declaration, although there’s no need to pretend with me.”
Poppy frowned. “I’m not pretending. I’m not bothered in the least that Lord Lonsdale isn’t considering me as one of his potential countesses, nor am I disappointed he’s not here today.”
“But why isn’t he here?” Lena pressed. “Mr. Blackburn is here, and given that Mr. Blackburn is Lord Lonsdale’s traveling companion, well, I would expect those two gentlemen to want to enjoy Christmas together.”
“Lord Lonsdale accepted an invitation to spend Christmas dinner with Miss Adele Tooker.”
“Did she not extend an invitation to Mr. Blackburn as well?”
“Reginald had already committed to joining us here at the House of Industry.”
Lena considered Poppy for a long moment before she suddenly shifted her attention across the room, settling it on Reginald, who’d just walked through the kitchen door from the dining hall where the Christmas dinner was being served. He was holding an empty bowl in one hand, while holding Maria Romano’s hand in the other, and something about the way he was giving the child his undivided attention as she brightly chattered away stole the very breath from Poppy’s lungs.
Reginald was a man who certainly had the propensity to brood as well as adopt a rather surly nature upon occasion, but he was also undeniably kind, and . . . she was finding it more and more difficult to ignore that the affection she felt for him was growing at an extraordinary rate.
That affection, if she was honest with herself, was sheer lunacy because Reginald had not given her the slightest reason to believe he viewed her as anything other than a friend, and—
“. . . struck me as unpleasant and brooding, but there is something about him that I suppose some ladies find appealing, such as his blatant masculinity.”
All thoughts of affection disappeared as Poppy returned her attention to Lena, who was now watching her with speculation in her eyes.
“Forgive me, but my thoughts were wandering,” Poppy said. “Are we still discussing Reginald?”
“I was pointing out that I believe he has a certain appeal, even with him deciding, for some unknown reason, to take on the look of a barbarian, what with that thick beard and disheveled hair. He’s also very attentive to you, and young ladies can be predisposed to read too much into that. However, he’s not an aristocrat, nor do I get the impression he’s a man of business because I’ve never heard him broach the topic of business with anyone. That right there suggests he’s a man with limited wealth, and given that you’re an American heiress, I feel an obligation to warn you against a man who may be looking to secure himself a fortune.”
“Reginald has never so much as hinted he’s after my fortune.”
“But of course he hasn’t, my dear,” Lena argued. “That would harm his chances of getting closer to you.”
“Reginald and I are friends,” Poppy said coolly. “And I must tell you that I take offense at your implication he’s a fortune hunter, and I urge you to proceed with caution because I won’t be held responsible for what might come out of my mouth next if you insult him again, because, as I mentioned, he’s a friend of mine.”
Lena’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but then, she blinked, smiled, and inclined her head. “Allow me to beg your pardon if I’ve offended you, Poppy. That was not my intent. I simply thought to caution you against a man we really don’t know that much about, other than he’s Lord Lonsdale’s traveling companion.” She inclined her head again. “I’m allowing my imagination to get the better of me, especially since you’ve adamantly stated that you and Mr. Blackburn are merely friends. And with that settled, allow me to broach a different matter that I’ve been longing to talk through with you for days.”
Instead of saying anything else, though, Lena suddenly nodded to Murray. “Your potatoes seem to be well mashed, Mr. Middleton. I imagine they’re waiting for them out in the dining hall.”
Murray stopped mashing potatoes that, indeed, almost seemed overly mashed, handed the bowl to little Maria who just happened to be walking past them, then pulled the bowl of potatoes Poppy had abandoned toward him, sending Lena an innocent smile. “No need for me to go to the dining hall now” was all he said as he began mashing the potatoes with enthusiasm.
Poppy pressed her lips together to keep from smiling, forcing herself to look back at Lena, who’d clearly wanted to speak to her alone, but had been thwarted from that by Murray—a gentleman who was certainly coming into his own.
“Yes, well, as I was saying,” Lena said, taking Poppy’s arm and pulling her less than discreetly away from Murray, who simply scooted his bowl down the table as Lena began whispering furiously in her ear.
“. . . not aware . . . Nigel . . . very fond of you . . . caught his eye” was all Poppy managed to hear, although it was enough to understand the gist of Lena’s whispers.
Lifting her head, she directed her gaze to the far side of the enormous kitchen where Nigel was currently up to his elbows in water at the sink, scrubbing pots, while George stood right beside him, drying them.
“And he seems to get along wonderfully well with your grandfather, what with how they’re smiling at each other and talking as they go about the mundane business of dishes,” Lena continued, abandoning her whispering as she nodded toward Nigel.
Nigel took that moment to glance over his shoulder at them, as if he could feel them watching him. He arched a brow Lena’s way, but a second later, he was directing a smile at Poppy, sending her a nod before he returned to dishes still waiting to be scrubbed.
“Isn’t he simply the most lovely gentleman?” Lena chirped.
“I imagine he is, although it’s not as if I’m overly familiar with him” was all Poppy could think to say to that.
“Forgive me if this comes across as being too forward, but I know for a fact that Nigel is hoping that’ll change.”
Poppy shot a glance at Murray, who sent her a grimace in return, as if he had no idea how she could possibly respond politely to that bit of nonsense.
Poppy forced a smile. “Nigel and I are merely friends as well, Lena, and not close friends at that. We simply share an appreciation for horses.”
“He fancies you.”
“How . . . ah . . . well . . . ah . . .”
“He has no need of your fortune, and . . . he’s in much demand,” Lena continued, quite as if she didn’t notice Poppy’s sputtering. “I wanted to make certain you were aware of his interest before some other society lady snaps him up.” She released a titter. “Men are known to be somewhat fickle creatures when it comes to matters of the heart, and I would so hate it if you allowed Nigel to slip away because you weren’t aware of the great affection he holds you in.”
“Ah, Mrs. Ridgeway,” Beatrix Waterbury suddenly exclaimed, bustling up to join them, holding a tray filled with pastries Poppy had made. “Could you be a dear and take this into the dining hall? I’m afraid that the young lads who’ve been helping me unload the wagon filled with the desserts have begun eyeing those desserts far too longingly, which means I need to get back outside without delay.”
Not waiting for Lena to agree, Beatrix thrust the tray into the startled-looking lady’s hand, and after Beatrix gave a less-than-discreet nod to the door, Lena walked away, saying something about progressive ladies being the death of society as she walked.
“Looked like you needed rescuing,” Beatrix said, shaking her head as she watched Lena disappear through the door. “Do you find it as odd as I do that Lena Ridgeway seems to be around so much these days? I’ve been out for quite a few years now, and I rarely encountered that lady before this Season.”
Murray frowned. “An excellent point, Beatrix, and yes, I have thought her attendance at so many societal events is odd.” Murray laid aside his potato masher and moved closer to Beatrix and Poppy. “Given that I’ve spent so much time in my mother’s company over the years, which has allowed me to spend additional time in the company of her friends, I do have an unusual amount of knowledge at my disposal. That is why I know that Lena Ridgeway has always been considered a willful and peculiar sort. She was apparently coddled by overindulgent parents in her youth, then married a man chosen by her parents who was quite a bit older than she was. From what I recall, they often retreated from society, preferring to spend their time together. After he died, she all but disappeared from society, until this year, of course, when she began traveling to events with Nigel.” He frowned. “I’ve never heard that Lena’s put any of the fortune her husband left her to charitable causes, which is why I was surprised to see her here earlier, willing to give up her Christmas day in order to serve the needy.”
“Perhaps she’s decided it’s time for her to put some effort into philanthropy now,” Beatrix said, earning a shake of a head from Murray in return.
“From what I overheard as I was blatantly eavesdropping on Lena and Poppy, Lena’s decided to put some effort into matchmaking—more specifically matchmaking as pertains to Poppy and Nigel.”
Poppy swallowed the yelp that almost escaped her lips as Reginald appeared directly by her side, something dark and dangerous lurking in his eyes.
Beatrix looked around, then moved closer to Reginald. “Lena’s apparently trying her hand at matchmaking, and she has Poppy and Nigel in her sights.”
Reginald glanced to where Nigel was still scrubbing pots, waving a soapy rag in the air as he evidently made some enthusiastic point to George.
“Lena told Poppy that Nigel fancies her,” Murray added, which had Reginald stiffening as the look in his eyes turned more dangerous than ever.
“Does he now?”
“I’m sure Lena’s mistaken,” Poppy said, trying to ignore the fluttery feeling that had settled in her stomach because, clearly, she was reading far too much into the look in his eyes. “So many older society women turn their thoughts to matchmaking, and because Nigel does appear to be her close companion, it’s only natural that she would set her sights on seeing him well settled.”
“You seem to enjoy his company,” Reginald pointed out.
“Not enough to where I long to become more permanently attached to him.”
Reginald considered her for a long moment before his lips curved ever so slightly. “Ah, well, good. Glad that’s settled.” He picked up the bowl of potatoes Murray had been mashing, sent nods all around, then turned and strode out of the kitchen without another word.
“Now that was an interesting development,” Beatrix said.
“Interesting how?” Poppy asked.
Beatrix glanced across the room and frowned. “Oh dear, there’s my Thomas and he’s looking rather harried.” She nodded to Murray. “You’ll have to explain to her what I meant.”
“So . . . explain away,” Poppy said as Beatrix hurried away and joined Mr. Thomas Hamersley, her gentleman friend, with the emphasis being on friend.
Murray’s lips curved. “For a lady who is usually an intuitive sort, you’ve turned concerningly obtuse when it comes to Reginald.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just as you apparently didn’t realize Nigel fancies you, I’ve come to believe Reginald fancies you as well, but he seems almost reluctant to accept that, because—”
“He doesn’t want to fancy me?”
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
“It was. You’re just too polite to actually tell me what I’m sure you believe I’ll take as an insult.”
“It would be an insult if he didn’t want to fancy you.”
“He doesn’t fancy me,” Poppy argued.
“’Course he does, and all we need to do now—” He held up his hand when she opened her mouth. “Don’t even bother trying to convince me you don’t fancy Reginald, because—”
“I have never said I fancy Reginald.”
Murray arched a brow. “You haven’t balked at all about him spending all of his time with you ever since you got arrested, which, in my humble opinion, is telling.”
“I haven’t balked because Reginald and my grandfather believe there’s a possibility that someone who wants to frighten me out of New York—or more specifically, out of society—has hired on ruffians to do their dirty work. They’ve been stubbornly reluctant to change their minds about that, even though I’ve stated numerous times that it’s ridiculous, since I’ve yet to achieve that diamond of the first water status, nor have I received so much as a single proposal of marriage.”
“Is that a hint of dejection I hear in your tone, brought about because Reginald seems reluctant to . . . well . . . approach you about a courtship?”
“I have no idea how to respond to that.”
Murray nodded. “Don’t blame you a bit. You’ve not puzzled out your feelings for Reginald yet, or his feelings for you, but don’t fret. Now that I’m getting a better inkling about the situation, I’ll set right to work coming up with a plan.”
Trepidation was immediate. “What kind of plan?”
Murray gave an airy wave of a hand that Poppy only then noticed had mashed potatoes stuck to it. “I haven’t the foggiest idea. But rest assured that whatever plan I devise will leave Lena Ridgeway realizing there’s no reason to continue any further matchmaking attempts because you’ll, hopefully, find yourself firmly off the shelf.”