Chapter 29

“That’s Lena’s carriage, all right,” Murray said, passing Reginald the opera glasses he’d been using to get a better look. “It’s bright red, and there’s not another like it that I’ve ever seen.”

Aiming the opera glasses to the carriage that was parked in front of an impressive cottage, Reginald took a second to look around the yard, finding two dogs lying on the front porch, sleeping.

He lowered the glasses and nodded to Murray. “Remember to thank your mother for me, Murray. Without her remembering that Lena’s husband had this cottage, we would have been hard-pressed to find Poppy.”

“If she’s in there,” Murray said before he sent a warm smile to Maisie, who was sitting on a horse beside him. “We have Maisie to thank for bringing my mother into the situation. Truth be told, I would have never thought to ask her.”

Maisie returned the smile. “Your mother is a society matron and has spent years listening to all the rumors, so it seemed only logical to me to question her about Lena. Lucky we did since she knew all about Lena’s unfortunate past, what with her being prone to melancholy and her husband hiding her in that cottage over there.”

“Lena may have an unfortunate past,” Viola said as she pulled her horse to a stop next to Reginald, “but that doesn’t excuse her from abducting Poppy. I have no idea what could be behind her actions, but—”

“We’ll soon find out,” George finished for her as he nodded to the cottage. “I’ll ride down there first.”

“Absolutely not,” Reginald argued. “I’ll go. You stay here with everyone else.”

“She’s my granddaughter.”

“And I’m hoping she’ll be my—” Reginald stopped talking as everyone turned expectant looks his way, Viola sending him an encouraging sort of nod when he didn’t say anything else.

Drawing in a breath, he tried to compose a rational response, one that wouldn’t take too long to explain.

He’d had more than enough time to think matters through over the two days since Poppy had gone missing, and what he now knew without a doubt was this—he loved her, loved everything about her, even her less-than-strict adherence to the rules and her maddening proclivity to become involved in the most outrageous escapades.

He knew he’d hurt her by withholding his truth, but he was determined, if nothing else, to at least get an opportunity to explain why he’d done that, beg her forgiveness, and hope she’d give him another chance.

“I think you were about to say wife,” Charles said, edging his horse forward as he peered at the cottage. “Maybe we should all storm the place, take them by surprise.”

Edith Iselin, who’d insisted on helping them find Poppy, began shaking her head. “That could very well get someone killed.”

Charles frowned. “Would it bother you if I got killed?”

“Don’t be ridiculous; of course it would. I may still be furious with you, but I’m not furious enough to want to see you dead.”

Charles shot a glance to Reginald. “There might still be hope for me after all.”

“What say we put that notion aside, at least until we retrieve Poppy?”

“Right,” Charles said with a nod. “We should focus on the situation at hand, figure out how—”

A gunshot suddenly split the air, and Reginald didn’t hesitate. Sending his horse into motion, he bent low over the saddle, retrieving the pistol he’d put in his jacket pocket. He jumped from the horse before it came to a complete stop, made it two feet toward the porch, then suddenly found himself set upon by snarling dogs.

“Here, puppies,” he heard Beatrix yell, and to his disbelief, the dogs lost all interest in him, scrambling over to Beatrix, who was tossing them pieces of what seemed to be one of the sandwiches Mr. Parsons had packed for everyone before they’d left the house that morning.

“Go,” she called. “I’ll keep them busy.”

He needed no further urging. Racing up the steps, he tore open the front door, barreled into the entranceway, then faltered for the barest second at the sight that met his eyes.

Nigel was running his way, dragging a brute of a dog that was attached to his pant leg, as Poppy ran by his side, two poodles trailing her, although the dogs didn’t seem to be trying to attack her. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of him.

“Run, Reginald! She’s got a gun!” Poppy yelled right as Lena Ridgeway careened out of a room, a smoking pistol in her hand and a smile on her face that had his blood turning to ice.

Fury soon replaced that ice, though, when Lena stopped running, raised her hand, and aimed at Poppy.

A shot rang out from behind Reginald, one that left Lena shrieking and shaking a hand that no longer held a pistol.

Turning, Reginald found Murray standing behind him, holding a pistol, a look of complete astonishment on his face.

“I told you that your aim was getting better, Murray,” Maisie Leggett said, striding forward, her pistol already trained on Lena, who was still shaking her hand as she, oddly enough, plopped down into a dainty chair and crossed her arms over her chest, looking remarkably grumpy.

“I wasn’t aiming for her pistol,” Murray muttered. “I was aiming for over her shoulder, but . . .”

“It’s hardly good form for all of you to pay an unannounced call on me,” Lena interrupted, releasing a huff. “Why, it’s bad manners, no doubt about it. I’m hardly prepared to entertain callers, not with how all of my servants are currently tied up out in the barn, an unpleasant action I was forced to take after they decided I was holding Poppy against her will.”

“You were holding Poppy against her will,” Reginald said, coming to a stop directly in front of Lena, while Murray hurried to collect the gun he’d shot straight out of Lena’s hand. “And to be clear, that’s against the law.”

Lena waved that aside. “It’s not as if anyone is going to cart me off to jail, my dear. I’m rich, filthy rich, and you must know that money can buy a person out of anything.” She looked around him and frowned. “But where’s Nigel? He was here just a moment ago, as was Poppy.”

Reginald frowned. “They fled outside because you were apparently trying to shoot them.”

“But not to kill them. I was only trying to get them to listen to reason.” With that, Lena’s gaze suddenly turned vacant as she looked around the room, obviously having retreated to a world Reginald couldn’t see.

“You should go see to Poppy,” Murray said, nodding toward the door. “Maisie and I will watch over Lena, although I get the distinct feeling she’s not a threat to anyone right now. Nigel, however, might be a different story.”

“Too right you are,” Reginald said, racing for the door. He leapt down the front stairs and took off across the lawn, skidding to a stop when he found Nigel lying in the middle of the lawn, holding a nose that was bleeding while Beatrix stood over him.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you,” Beatrix demanded.

“You can’t shoot him, Beatrix,” Poppy said, striding around the corner of the house, the two poodles still by her side. “He’s as much a victim of Lena’s madness as I was.” She stopped by Beatrix’s side, held out a hand to Nigel, then after he got to his feet, thrust what seemed to be a piece of fabric at him.

“Brutus tore that from your trousers,” Poppy said. “Might as well use it to staunch the bleeding from your nose.”

“What happened to Brutus?” Nigel said, swiveling his head to look over the yard, stilling when he caught sight of Reginald, who narrowed his eyes on Nigel for the merest of seconds before he returned his attention to Poppy.

She was wearing a dress that was made up of yards and yards of fabric and bows, the fabric trailing over the grass behind her. Her hair was pulled back in an untidy tail that streamed down her back, and her face was pale, but she looked more beautiful than she’d ever looked to him.

“Lena apparently commanded Brutus to guard both of us,” Poppy said, pulling Reginald from his perusal. “But when he tried to round me up, those two”—she sent a nod to the poodles—“went after him. Last I saw, he was racing over that far hill, and I doubt we’ll be seeing him again.”

“Can’t claim to be upset about that,” Nigel said. “I really grew to detest that dog.”

“What I’m curious about is why it doesn’t appear as if Poppy detests you,” Beatrix said, her eyes flashing on Nigel.

“I’m curious about that as well,” Reginald said, moving forward as what could only be described as a ruckus sounded from the cottage.

“We need some help in here,” Maisie called through the front door, ducking as a book flew over her head.

“Good heavens, I forgot about Lena,” Poppy said, lifting up the hem of her skirt as she dashed toward the cottage.

“I’ve got this, Poppy. Stay out here,” Viola yelled, hurrying for the door, sternly shooing away a dog that had begun to growl at her, which had the dog whimpering and dashing away.

“You’re not going in there without me,” George shouted, racing to join his wife.

Poppy, being Poppy, didn’t stop her mad dash toward the house until she suddenly tripped on the skirt of her gown, sprawling in a heap on the ground, the two poodles immediately cavorting around her, as if they thought she was playing some type of game with them.

Striding to join Poppy as Viola called out that everything was in control in the house, Reginald stilled when the poodles stopped yipping and began growling, their growls ceasing the second Poppy sat up and wagged a finger at them. “Stop it. You’re being rude.” Lifting her head, she caught his eye.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” she said, shoving aside hair that was falling in front of her face. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you, since you’ve once again raced to my rescue, but why aren’t you back in London?”

“I couldn’t very well return to London after I discovered you were missing, nor would I have returned to London even if you hadn’t gone missing, not until I had a chance to apologize to you.” He held out his hand, which she ignored, but that might have been because one of the poodles was licking her face. “You made it abundantly clear at the ball that you never wanted to see me again, but I’m hoping you’ll at least give me a few minutes of your time to explain why I didn’t tell you the truth about me.”

Poppy peered over the poodle’s head. “I’m listening.”

Reginald blew out a breath. “I was afraid you’d be furious with me once you discovered I’d been less than honest with you.”

“I was furious with you.”

He caught her eye. “And now?”

“My time spent locked away allowed my temper to cool.”

“Does that mean you’re ready to forgive me?”

Poppy pushed the poodle off her lap and lumbered to her feet. “I suppose that depends on that apology you mentioned you wanted to give me.”

Reginald glanced to where Nigel and Beatrix were standing, finding both of them watching him closely, Nigel holding the bit of fabric from his trousers against his nose.

“I’m not sure now is the appropriate time to discuss the matter, Poppy,” he began. “I’m still woefully confused about what part Nigel had to play in your abduction, or why I shouldn’t be considering tearing the man limb from limb.”

“Not that I’m an expert in the lady department,” Charles suddenly called out, striding across the lawn with Edith at his side, “but I believe you’ll have plenty of time to sort out the Nigel business. You might not have much time to sort out the Poppy business if you hesitate to do as she just asked and apologize.”

“That means get on with it,” Edith said, pulling Charles to a stop a few feet away from Reginald even as she sent him a rather telling arch of a brow.

“She’s very forthright, isn’t she?” Charles asked with a smile, taking hold of Edith’s hand, which she immediately tugged free. “And exactly what I need.”

“This isn’t your moment, Charles,” Edith pointed out, although she did so while returning Charles’s smile with a smile of her own.

“Quite right, so . . .” Charles nodded to Reginald. “Have at it. We’re listening.”

Reginald frowned. “I’m not sure I want all of you listening.”

“Too bad,” Charles countered. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Blowing out a breath, Reginald turned to Poppy. “I’m not sure where to begin.”

“I believe ‘I’m sorry, Poppy, for misleading you’ might be a way to start,” Poppy suggested. “And then you might move on to begging my forgiveness.”

His lips twitched. “Should I repeat everything you just said, or is it sufficient if I just agree with all that and move on from there?”

Her eyes narrowed the slightest bit. “What do you mean, move on from there?”

He took a step toward her, and then another, smiling when she immediately took a step away from him. “I figured that since you got my apology out of the way for me, that I should move on to the next bit.”

“The next bit?”

“Indeed,” he said, reaching her a second later. Smiling, he pulled her into his arms, ignored that one of the poodles seemed to have sunk its teeth into the leg of his trousers, lowered his head, and . . . kissed her.

Poppy immediately stiffened in his arms for all of a second until she, much to his relief, stole her arms around his neck, leaned into him, and began kissing him back.

As the worry he’d been holding ever since he’d learned she’d gone missing faded away, Reginald knew that no matter what it took he was never letting the lady in his arms slip away from him again.

He loved her. It was as simple as that, even though she was the most exhausting and exasperating lady he’d ever met in his life.

Life would never be dull with Poppy by his side.

“You seem to be getting distracted because, if you didn’t realize this, you stopped kissing me,” Poppy said, taking a step away from him, her nose wrinkling.

He smiled. “Guilty as charged, but I only became distracted because that remarkable kiss we were sharing had me thinking about other remarkable things.”

A touch of color stained her cheeks. “You found our kiss remarkable?”

“I find everything about you remarkable.”

And just like that, she was back in his arms, yanking his head toward hers right before she kissed him.

“Not sure I approve of a man kissing my granddaughter like that,” Reginald suddenly heard George bluster, which had him ending the kiss and glancing toward the house.

George was standing on the porch, shaking his head, while Viola and Maisie were leading a very docile-looking Lena out the front door, steering her toward the red carriage. Murray walked behind them, pistol at the ready, in case Lena turned wild again.

“Someone might want to let Lena’s servants out of the barn,” Viola called. “We could use their help as we take Lena back to the city.”

“Don’t take her to jail,” Nigel said, striding over to join them. “She doesn’t deserve that because she’s obviously not well.”

“Where do you suggest we take her?’ Viola asked.

Nigel frowned and took hold of Lena’s hand, not that she seemed to realize that since she now appeared to be in an almost catatonic state. “I’d welcome any suggestion you may have, Mrs. Van Rensselaer. Perhaps, if you and your husband would be so kind as to ride in the carriage with me, we can determine where best to keep her, hopefully in a more pleasant setting than that of an asylum. She mentioned she doesn’t care for those, and it might be worth considering to try and find a place that would allow her to keep her dogs.”

“I’m sure, what with the fortune Lena has at her disposal, we’ll be able to make arrangements for her that will keep her somewhat happy while keeping society safe from her madness,” Viola said, earning a nod from Nigel before he helped Lena into the carriage, her dogs immediately jumping in with her, although the two poodles who’d been licking Poppy gave a few yips good-bye before they joined the pack.

“I’d best give Nigel a hand,” Murray said, climbing into the carriage, Maisie squishing herself in after him, a dog immediately climbing into her lap.

A second later, Viola, with George by her side, began advancing rather determinedly toward Reginald.

There was something slightly terrifying about being approached by grandparents after they’d just witnessed their granddaughter being soundly kissed, although Poppy had initiated their last kiss, but still.

“Shall we assume you’ve accepted Reginald’s apology, Poppy?” Viola asked, smiling at her granddaughter, who immediately returned the smile.

“I believe you can assume exactly that,” Poppy said.

“And . . . ?” George pressed, arching a brow Reginald’s way.

“I’ve not actually had time to get more than the apology business taken care of,” he admitted.

“Seems like you have some time now, what with Lena and Nigel out of the way, although I’m still rather confused about what his role is in all this.” George nodded to Poppy. “I thought the man fancied you, which had me thinking he’d stolen you away to force you to marry him.”

“The abduction was all Lena’s idea,” Poppy said. “As for Nigel fancying me, he might have thought he did at first, but he apparently came to the conclusion that I’m exhausting.” She turned and caught Reginald’s eye. “Something you’ve remarked upon a time or two as well.”

“But I, unlike Nigel, find that completely charming,” Reginald said.

Poppy’s eyes twinkled. “How delightful.”

“Will you also find it delightful if I say that I adore you, love you, and will do whatever it takes to make you my wife?”

She blinked. “Absolutely.”

“Good.” He leaned closer to her. “And would it also be delightful if I tell you that George and I have been talking about creating a charity in the family name, one that you and I would run, if you’re agreeable?”

“That’s delightful as well.”

“Wonderful.” He moved even closer to her. “How about if I tell you I want to live in New York and not England, and—”

She placed a finger over his lips. “There’s really no need for you to continue.”

“Why not?” he said around her finger.

“Because I love you as well, and I was yours from the moment you called me remarkable.”

Unable to argue with that type of logic, Reginald wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again, although it was a rather chaste kiss since George and Viola were looking on. However, as he held Poppy close, he decided there and then that remarkable was a word he would take to using often, especially since he knew that a life with Poppy was certain to be quite remarkable indeed.