Chapter 26

“What is the meaning of this?”

Looking over her shoulder as she set aside the handkerchief she’d been using to blot some of the paint from her lips, Poppy settled her attention on Adele, who looked absolutely furious as she marched past ladies who were not wearing the expected outlandish costumes.

Adele, on the other hand, was wearing that outlandish costume, complete with enormous bustle, yards and yards of white velvet that barely moved as she stormed forward, and sky-high shoes that she’d obviously been practicing in since the height of those shoes didn’t seem to affect her ability to storm across the room.

Coming to a stop directly in front of Poppy, Adele nodded, the action causing the towering wig on her head to shift forward ever so slightly. “I’m sure you’re responsible for this, aren’t you?”

Poppy rose from the stool she’d been sitting on. “I see no reason to deny it.”

Adele’s heavily painted lips pursed as her nostrils flared. “And I see no reason to deny to the many guests in attendance tonight that you’re the one responsible for ruining the quadrille.”

Poppy lifted her chin. “I haven’t ruined anything except your plan to show yourself more favorably than the rest of us.”

“We’re expected to be wearing identical costumes.”

Gesturing to the ladies who’d gathered in a semicircle, Poppy shrugged. “All of us are wearing identical costumes, Adele. We each have white elbow-length gloves, white gowns, white wigs, identical beauty marks on our painted faces, and”—she lifted up the hem of her skirt, revealing sparkly white shoes—“matching shoes.”

Miss Cynthia Roche stepped forward. “All of us, including yourself it seems, Adele, are even wearing gowns we can actually breathe in. I am curious as to why when the rest of us tried on the monstrosities you sent to our respective homes yesterday that they were a good two sizes too small for all of us.”

“Mine wasn’t too small,” Poppy said. “But that’s only because my grandmother, being a surprisingly insightful lady, thought it would be wise to add a few inches on my behalf to the measurements you asked for, Adele.”

Furious mutters erupted around the room, which Adele tried to ignore until Miss Virginia Thorne stepped forward. “Why were our gowns so snug, Adele?”

Adele inclined her head. “I imagine yours was snug, Virginia, because of that pastry I saw you consume at Rutherford & Company.”

“That was three weeks ago.”

Adele shrugged. “Once past the lips, a lady will certainly find it on her hips.” She turned back to Poppy. “I won’t forget this, and you can be certain Lord Lonsdale will hear about your duplicity.”

“Since his valet was up half the night helping with alterations, I’m fairly convinced Lord Lonsdale’s already heard about my . . . duplicity, was it?”

Adele’s eyes narrowed, but before she had an opportunity to release what Poppy knew would certainly be a scathing tirade, Lena Ridgeway suddenly breezed into the room, announcing to everyone that it was time to take their places.

Sending Poppy one last animosity-filled look, Adele stalked away, taking up her position directly in front of the door.

“And here come the gentlemen,” Cynthia Roche said, the scowl she’d been wearing disappearing in a thrice as gentlemen dressed all in white began streaming into the room.

Shoving all thoughts of Adele aside, Poppy smiled as Murray stepped up to join her.

“You look lovely, Poppy,” he said, taking hold of her hand and giving it a good squeeze as he looked her up and down. “Why, I would never know that you’ve had relatively little sleep, although your eyes do look somewhat bloodshot. You’re not getting sick, are you?”

“I’m fine,” Poppy said, even though her stomach was a touch queasy, which she hoped was a direct result of knowing she was soon to perform in front of society again.

“Thank goodness. I was afraid you were coming down with whatever Viola and George have. They’ve got a nasty case of something, what with how much they’re both tossing up their accounts.”

“Before I left the house, Grandfather told me he was feeling much better,” Poppy said. “Which has me hoping they won’t be suffering for long.” She shook her head. “I was afraid Grandmother was going to try and attend tonight even with her still under the weather, but I finally convinced her she wasn’t fit to leave the house.”

“She was most disappointed about not getting to see you perform.”

“I’m sure there’ll be other quadrilles.”

Murray’s gaze sharpened. “You’ve begun enjoying society, haven’t you?”

Poppy gazed at all the other couples looking resplendent in their costumes, although all the ladies still seemed to have some lingering fury in their eyes, a sight that left Poppy smiling. “While I might have said only yesterday that enjoying society was definitely a stretch, I’m not sure that’s still the case.”

“Viola will be delighted to hear that. Now, shall we get in line?”

Taking hold of the arm Murray extended her, they found their place, Poppy drawing in a few deep breaths in the hopes of settling a stomach that had, indeed, turned queasy.

“Nervous?” Murray asked.

“A bit.”

“We’ll be fine,” he said, giving her arm a squeeze. “I won’t let you falter.”

Her vision grew a little misty. “Thank you for that, Murray. You’ve become such a dear, dear friend.”

He leaned closer to her. “And because of that, allow me to be the first to tell you that I spoke with Maisie’s father this afternoon before I spoke with Maisie, and . . .” He wiggled his brows her way.

“You’re getting married?” Poppy whispered.

“Indeed, and it’s all thanks to you and Reginald because I would have never noticed her interest in me if the two of you hadn’t pointed it out.”

“I’m sure you would have eventually noticed Maisie’s interest in you,” Poppy said right as everyone in front of them began moving forward, Cynthia Roche having to stop for a moment when her wig, the one item of their costumes they’d not been able to alter much, listed to the left.

“This is going to be a very interesting quadrille,” Murray said as three women who’d been hired to assist with the wigs rushed forward, sticking numerous pins into Cynthia’s wig, which had her wincing every other minute.

Once Cynthia’s wig was set to rights, the line began moving again, and before Poppy knew it, they were standing in front of the ballroom that had gone completely silent.

“We’ll be fine,” Murray said for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“’Course we will,” Poppy returned as they glided on to the dance floor.

Taking her position, she drew in a breath, smiled when she heard Murray whispering a quick prayer, whispered one of her own, and then . . . she was dancing.

It soon became clear that all the hours she’d practiced the quadrille with Murray had been hours well spent because she missed not a single step, nor, from what she could tell, did any of the other ladies.

Adele and her billowing costume certainly stood out, something she seemed well aware of since she kept sending Poppy smug looks as she glided around the room on the arm of her partner. That smugness, though, disappeared in a blink of an eye when Adele suddenly lost her footing and stumbled about for a good moment, which had everyone freezing in place.

To everyone’s surprise, Adele suddenly kicked off her shoes, which her partner then kicked straight off the dance floor, and with a charming smile sent to the assembled guests, she surged into motion again, a recovery Poppy couldn’t help but appreciate.

As the music drew to a close and wild applause sounded throughout the ballroom, Murray gave her arm a squeeze.

“We did it,” he said waving a gloved hand in front of his perspiring face while the guests continued applauding.

“That was more enjoyable than I was expecting.”

Murray sent her a wink. “Of course it was. You were dancing with me—a dashing, intriguing, and newly engaged gentleman.” He leaned closer. “Reginald couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

The queasiness in her stomach that had yet to disappear suddenly intensified. “I’m afraid I didn’t notice. I was much too busy trying not to lose my wig and remember the steps. But, with that said, I’m certain he was watching me so closely so he could take note of any mistakes I made.”

Murray let out a snort. “Don’t be coy. It doesn’t become you.”

“I’m not being coy.”

“Then you’re being obtuse because he truly does fancy you.”

The queasiness took a turn for the worse. “He does not.”

“He does, although he may not have actually realized that.”

“I’m not certain that even makes any sense.”

Murray grinned. “You might be right, but I’m a man in love, and again, newly engaged, so my thoughts might not be as clear as they normally are. But know this: with me being newly in love, I’ve decided it’s a state that everyone should embrace, and I’m going to do my very best to make certain you and Reginald . . . well, at the very least, admit you both hold each other in great affection.” He looked up. “But he’s heading our way, so we’ll discuss the matter further after the ball.”

Handing her over to Reginald a moment later, then sending her another wink, Murray hurried away, claiming he needed to find Maisie.

“Did he tell you his news?” Reginald asked, taking Poppy’s hand and bringing it to his lips.

“He did, just before the quadrille, and after Adele’s rant about my apparent duplicity.”

He caught her eye. “Murray and I were directly outside the door when she started shrieking, but before we could intervene, Lena Ridgeway showed up. She told us in no uncertain terms that our presence in a room filled with infuriated ladies would not help the situation.”

“I imagine that you couldn’t get away fast enough.”

Reginald grinned. “Indeed, but only after Lena assured us she’d get the situation well in hand.”

“That was kind of her. I wouldn’t have expected her to make such an offer, at least to you, since you seemed to annoy her yesterday when you told her you were escorting me tonight.”

“Which turned out to be less than the truth since I merely deposited you here earlier and came to the ball on my own.”

“Why didn’t you come with Lord Lonsdale?”

“He promised Miss Edith Iselin a ride here.”

Poppy smiled. “That was thoughtful of him. I’ve been thinking Edith was most likely upset about Adele, her supposed friend, excluding her from the quadrille, but I would think Charles’s kind gesture more than made up for that.”

“Have I mentioned yet that I found you to be the most beautiful lady on the floor, or that I didn’t neglect to notice that you performed the quadrille flawlessly?”

Poppy blinked as her stomach did a bit of a flip, which was worrisome since she was still feeling queasy. “I don’t believe you did, but that was a rather abrupt change of topic.”

“I didn’t want to forget. But you are looking exceptionally beautiful this evening.”

As her knees began wobbling, she started to lose her balance, but before she could do something mortifying, such as plunge to the ground, Reginald’s arm was around her, steadying her.

“Are you all right?”

“In all truthfulness, I’m feeling a little queasy.”

“Should I take you home?”

“No, I just need to find a quiet place to sit for a moment. Perhaps you could get me something cool to drink?”

“Of course.”

After Reginald escorted her to a chair sitting against the far wall of the ballroom, he strode away, disappearing into the guests who were milling around, waiting for the orchestra to begin the first waltz of the evening.

Drawing in a breath, which did nothing to still her queasiness, Poppy rubbed a hand over a cheek that seemed unusually hot. Realizing her queasiness, aching head, and evidently increased temperature were not simply her being anxious about the quadrille, but rather a direct result of coming down with the same illness as her grandparents, Poppy pressed a hand to her forehead right as Lena Ridgeway, with Nigel Flaherty by her side, walked into view.

“Ah, Poppy, there you are, my dear,” Lena said cheerfully. “I’ve been looking for you because I have a most interesting tale to tell you.”

Wondering if the curious smile on Lena’s face was simply a figment of her imagination because there really was no reason for Lena to be looking almost smug, Poppy forced a smile of her own, praying she wasn’t about to toss up her accounts as Lena and Nigel stopped directly in front of her.

“I’m afraid I’m not—” Poppy began, interrupted from saying anything else when Reginald suddenly rejoined her, handing her a glass of what appeared to be water.

“Here, drink this,” he said, straightening right as Lena let out a laugh.

“Ah, and here you are as well. Perfect,” she all but purred.

Reginald frowned at Lena. “Why is it perfect?”

“Because I’ve got something incredibly interesting to tell Poppy, Reginald, something that involves you, or should I say involves . . . Lord Blackburn, second son of the Duke of Sutherland.”

Poppy swallowed the sip of water she’d taken, trying to make sense of the conversation. “What are you talking about?” she asked as Nigel sent a frown Lena’s way.

“I’d like to know that as well,” he said. “What are you talking about?”

Lena released a titter. “I’m talking about uncovering a bit of subterfuge that Lord Blackburn has been perpetuating on society, because he, for some unknown reason, has withheld his true identity from all of us, but as to why he’s done that, well” —she shrugged—“I’ve yet to puzzle that out to satisfaction.”

Nigel shot a look to Reginald, then looked back to Lena. “Where did you hear this?”

Lena smiled, looking quite like the cat who’d captured the canary. “I’ve had suspicions about the man for ages, especially after he grew that beard, which, in my humble opinion, did nothing for his appearance. I didn’t broach my suspicions to anyone, though, until I realized that he seemed far too interested in our dear Poppy.” She pinned Reginald with a malevolent eye. “My husband used to socialize with numerous Englishmen when he visited the Knickerbocker Club, so that’s where I decided to go to see if I could ferret out any information about Lord Lonsdale’s traveling companion.”

She shook her head. “I was most annoyed to have to cool my heels outside the Knickerbocker because they wouldn’t allow me, a mere lady, entrance into that hallowed club. But a member of the staff did find me a few Englishmen who agreed to talk to me outside, and imagine my surprise when I broached the topic of Mr. Blackburn to those gentlemen and was immediately taken to task because I’d not used the proper title for Lord Blackburn, second son of the Duke of Sutherland.”

Nigel frowned. “But how are you so certain Reginald Blackburn is the same man as Lord Blackburn?”

“Because I made a point of mentioning Lord Lonsdale and was told he’s Lord Blackburn’s cousin and is often seen in his cousin’s company.”

Poppy’s hand began trembling, causing some of the water to spill from the glass and onto the silk of her gown. She caught Reginald’s eye, not caring in the least for the wariness that was now resting there. “You’re the son of a duke?”

He gave a quick jerk of his head. “I am.”

Trying to ignore the roiling her stomach was now doing, she frowned. “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t. I simply withheld a few details about myself.”

“You told me you don’t own any ancestral estates and led me to believe you’re a pauper.”

“I don’t own any ancestral estates. My family estates are entailed, which means they’ll eventually go to my older brother.”

“But you’re not a pauper, Lord Blackburn, are you?” Lena drawled, taking a step forward. “I was told you’re incredibly wealthy—information I believe might explain why you didn’t let any of us know the truth about you. You’re one of those British gentlemen who believes you’re too good for Americans, and you were making sport of our fine young ladies over here, weren’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Reginald said shortly. “I was doing nothing of the sort. But now, if all of you will excuse me, I need to speak with Poppy in private.”

When Reginald held out his hand to her, Poppy handed him the glass of water she knew she wouldn’t be able to drink. Swallowing past the lump that had formed in her throat, she shook her head.

“I’m afraid I’m not up to having a discussion with you right now, Lord Blackburn. I’m feeling quite unwell, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home—and no, I don’t want you to escort me.”

Before Reginald could voice the argument he clearly wanted to voice, a loud cheer from the crowd suddenly erupted as Charles’s voice rang out. “If you’d all gather around, it’s time for my announcement.”

“You’d better go see what Charles has to say. Don’t, for any reason, try to follow me home. I’m much too furious, as well as ill, to have to suffer your company,” Poppy managed to say as Lena hurried to her side, took hold of her arm, and gave it a good pat.

“My carriage is right out front, my dear. I’ll see you home.”

Without hesitation, and praying she’d make it out of Delmonico’s before she lost the small bit of lunch she’d eaten that day, Poppy stumbled through the crowd that wasn’t paying her any mind at all, thankful when Lena didn’t try to engage in conversation but instead got her outside and into her carriage, shooing two dogs off the seat as she helped Poppy get settled.

“Nigel, stop dallying and get in the carriage,” Lena demanded, which, surprisingly, had Nigel, who’d never struck Poppy as a gentleman fond of being ordered about, climbing into the carriage. Before he had an opportunity to find his seat, though, Lena rapped on the roof of the carriage, setting it into motion.

Rubbing a shaking hand over a face that now felt on fire, Poppy managed a nod toward Lena. “Thank you for offering to take me home.”

“But of course, my dear. You’ve suffered quite a shock. And while I know this may seem like an unusual time to broach this topic, broach it I shall so you won’t worry needlessly that you’re soon to be made the laughingstock of society.”

Forcing herself to concentrate on what seemed to be a very unusual conversation indeed, Poppy rubbed a hand over a stomach that was turning incredibly painful. “Why would I be considered the laughingstock of society?”

“Because Reginald Blackburn deceived you. You were growing fond of him, what with how you were only too willing to agree to have him escort you here this evening, but you must realize now that he was merely amusing himself with you, which is why . . .”

Lena suddenly elbowed Nigel, who was sitting beside her on the seat opposite from Poppy. “Go on, dear.”

Nigel winced and pressed a hand against ribs that were evidently smarting. “I’m not sure what you want me to go on with, Lena.”

“Of course you do, and now is the perfect time for you to declare yourself, which will alleviate any concerns Poppy may have about having to face society as a . . . well . . . duped woman.”

Trying to ignore the intense pounding in her temples, Poppy frowned. “I don’t think you need to worry about that, Lena.”

Lena gave a dismissive flutter of her hand. “We’re waiting, Nigel.”

Nigel shook his head. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait a long time, Lena, if you believe I’m going to declare myself to Poppy. And while I understand that you’ve apparently gotten your heart set on seeing me with her, I . . . ah . . .” Nigel stopped talking because one of Lena’s dogs took that moment to climb into his lap.

Lena turned a smile on Poppy. “He’s being shy, dear, and because of that, I’ll speak for him.”

“I’m not being shy,” Nigel said, trying to shove the dog off his lap, which only earned him a menacing growl and had him freezing on the spot.

“Of course you are,” Lena countered before she caught Poppy’s eye. “Nigel’s become the son I’ve never had, which is why I’ve taken such an interest in his life, and I’ve decided you’re perfect for him.”

Poppy pressed a hand against her temple. “This is really not the moment for this,” she said as her stomach suddenly gave a flip that couldn’t be ignored and bile began rising in her throat. “Stop the carriage.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, dear, at least not until you do Nigel the very great honor of agreeing to become his wife.”

Feeling quite as if she was missing something vastly important but unable to think about that because she was feeling beyond queasy, Poppy reached for the door. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, and you need to stop the carriage before it’s too late.”

“Stop being difficult,” Lena snapped. “You will marry Nigel, and—”

Whatever else Lena said, Poppy didn’t catch as she lurched for the door, barely managed to get it open, ignored that one of Lena’s dogs had its teeth in the skirt of her gown, and tossed up her accounts.