Rhys closed his mouth and watched Poppy run out of the ballroom. Her lavender gown billowed like clouds behind her. Her shoulders pulled tight, almost to her ears, as she clutched her fists to her sides. He had no idea why she had gotten so upset. He was the one who had been insulted. She’d said he was incapable of being faithful. Granted, her father was notoriously loose, but what did that have to do with him?
She had never liked him, he knew, but he hadn’t realized her opinion of him was so terrible. It was likely her opinion of all men, and he shouldn’t take it personally, but the way she said he would run about after marriage grated on him.
Brooding in the corner, he couldn’t shake the sting of Poppy’s bad opinion. He’d watched partygoers laughing and talking around him. The musicians signaled they would begin again, and a large group stepped onto the dance floor for La Boulangere. Couples formed groups of eight. The light, upbeat music should have put him in a better mood, but he couldn’t shake his malaise.
Faith walked over and smiled. Folding her hands in front of her, she scanned the room before bringing her attention back to him. “Why do you look so mean?”
Masking his emotional state with a practiced calm expression, he asked, “Why does Penelope dislike me so much?”
There was something about the way Faith fidgeted that made Rhys uncomfortable. She was the most practical of his sister’s friends. She at least made an effort to comply with society’s rules, though she didn’t always succeed. Her physical attributes were often spoken about behind closed doors among the men, and Rhys had on two occasions censured young men for their comments. Faith was a sweet girl and deserved respect.
Poppy’s more gentle curves and the way they might feel distracted him, and he almost missed Faith’s response.
“I think you will have to ask her, Rhys. Wallflowers never gossip about each other.”
“Is it gossip to tell me why someone dislikes me so intensely? I always thought we were just oil and water and didn’t mix, but tonight I have learned it is more than that. She truly hates me, thinks I’m a man of no character. I shouldn’t care. Penelope Arrington is nothing to me save my sister’s friend. Yet I’m confounded by her rancor.”
Faith sighed and patted his arm. “Then I suggest you find a quiet moment to ask Poppy about her feelings.”
He laughed. “She is not very forthcoming.”
“You may have to be patient.” Her gaze flitted across the room.
Rhys followed her gaze and spotted the Duke of Breckenridge, several inches taller than anyone else in the crowd, sneaking along the far wall and out the garden doors. He had obtained his overcoat, but leaving through the back was unusual. “Stay here, or better yet, find your mother and stay near her. I’ll follow your duke.”
Without waiting for a reply, Rhys walked out the nearest door to the garden. Keeping to the shadows, he followed the sharp footsteps on the cobbled path. The moon gave plenty of light, and several torches had been lit along the path, giving the garden a sense of the primitive. The boxwoods were thick and green, affording him ample cover.
Breckenridge kept his gaze forward as he hurried to the farthest corner of the gardens where several evergreens stood sentinel, creating a wall of trees. Pushing his hands into his pockets, he scanned the area in every direction.
The tall bushes were the perfect place for Rhys to remain hidden yet retain a view of the duke’s activities. He felt a bit guilty for spying, but his new acquaintance gave the impression of a man with something to hide. Too bad, since on first meeting, Rhys had liked Breckenridge and thought him a fine match for Faith. He was smart, rich, and somewhat unorthodox, which might suit Faith despite her constant attempts to appear staid and formal. The truth was, none of his sister’s friends were typical debutantes. They had keen minds and adventurous souls. Nothing like what most titled men wanted in a wife.
Perhaps his sister and the other Wallflowers were right to investigate the duke further. A man whose past was a mystery and acted as if he had many secrets might not be the best choice of husband. It might turn out to be nothing, but there was no way he would let another woman fall victim because of an opportunistic parent. If his own father were still alive, he’d be tempted to call him out for forcing Aurora into a dangerous marriage.
He didn’t know how he was going to live with the knowledge he’d been ignorant of her situation. Somehow, he should have known her marriage was more than a bad match. He’d known she disliked Radcliff but thought it was because the man was a fool not a beast.
Taking a breath, he focused on the task at hand. Finding out if Breckenridge’s secrets made him a threat was his mission, and he would not fail.
The greenery rustled, and he slipped into a break in the shrubbery. Whoever drew close stopped inches from Rhys’s hiding place. The familiar scent of lilacs and Poppy’s warmth reached him. The foolish woman was going to get herself in trouble.
Breckenridge’s attention was focused toward the back of the garden.
Easing forward, Rhys clasped his hand over Poppy’s mouth and dragged her back into his niche. “It’s me. Be still and don’t scream.” Whispering against her ear engulfed him in the heady scent uniquely Poppy. His lips touched the soft skin behind her ear, and his body reacted with violent desire.
Poppy relaxed, which molded her back against his front.
He removed his hand from her mouth but kept the other around her waist. Knowing he should put space between this maddening woman and himself didn’t seem to mean a thing when she was soft and pliant in his arms.
Movement at the back of the garden stopped anything Poppy might have said as they both watched a stocky man with black cropped hair and olive skin slip out from between the evergreens. He was dressed for the evening with a smart suit and crisp white cravat tied to perfection with a dramatic flair. Draped across his shoulders was a long, layered cloak, which fanned out like a cape when he walked.
Poppy gasped.
The man turned in their direction. “Were you followed, Your Grace?” he asked in a thick foreign accent.
Looking around, Breckenridge shrugged. “Doubtful anyone inside cares a fig for what I might do in the garden. I’m simply a duke out to get away from the crush and enjoy the night air. No one would think anything different. Do you have the maps, Geb?”
“I heard a woman.” Geb narrowed his eyes.
Shrugging, Breckenridge turned in their direction. “I’m sure it’s just a couple finding a bit of privacy for activities of a carnal nature.”
With one last look in the direction of their hiding place, Geb shrugged. He reached inside his cloak and produced a scroll of parchment. “This is all I could obtain. It’s incomplete but a good start.”
“Incomplete?” Breckenridge tucked the scroll inside his coat then smoothed the front of the fine material.
Geb shrugged. “Those you seek are not keen to give themselves up. I will keep searching for the rest.”
They shook hands, and Breckenridge said, “Thank you, my friend. Do not put yourself in too much danger over this. If you can’t find the rest of the map, we shall find another way. I have lost enough friends already and would hate to see you harmed.”
Geb slapped his back. “I am like the wind, Your Grace, and cannot be captured.”
Laughing, Breckenridge shook Geb’s hand. “I will contact you soon.”
Slipping out the same way he came, Geb was gone a moment later.
Breckenridge stepped onto the cobbled path and turned toward the house. His direction would bring him past where Poppy and Rhys were hiding. If he turned toward the niche, they would be exposed.
Rhys being caught in the garden would be of little consequence, but Poppy could be ruined by such a transgression. Turning so his back faced the path, he pressed her deeper into the niche. All Breckenridge would see was a man’s back with little idea of who was there but a good idea some untoward delight was in progress. Most gentlemen would walk by without investigating as long as it appeared the woman was willing.
His footsteps drew closer.
“What are you doing?” Poppy’s eyes sparkled in the moonlight and filled with fire.
“Shh.” Rhys pulled her close. Soft in all the right places, she was also surprisingly solid.
Hand on his chest, she pushed back. “Don’t you shush me.”
As she refused to heed his warning, Rhys did the only thing he could under the circumstances. He kissed her hard in order to keep her pretty mouth from uttering another word and giving herself away. A woman of good breeding caught in a compromising position with a man, in a garden, at night and unchaperoned, would be fatal to her reputation. She struggled for an instant then gasped before relaxing and softening in his arms.
Knowing she didn’t care for him didn’t make her less lovely or desirable, and the little moan deep in her chest undid him. He eased his grip and nipped her full bottom lip. Silken and warm, she tasted like the perfect confection, and he wanted more. He wanted to gorge himself on Poppy until there was nothing left.
She sighed, and he slipped his tongue between her lips. Gripping his coat with one hand, the other slipped around his neck, and she toyed with his hair.
Longing shot through him from every place she touched. Even her fingers in his hair was somehow erotic. “You taste so good.” He devoured her mouth, grazing her teeth and seeking out her sweet tongue.
Boldly, she met every lick and nibble in a duel filled with passion he could never have expected. He kissed his way across her cheek and down her jaw, gaining him a low moan, which vibrated inside her. He pulled her tight against his hard length, and she gasped and clutched his hair tighter.
No fear lurked inside this magnificent woman as she opened her mouth for more of him.
Cupping her cheek, he indulged in running his thumb along the creaminess of her jaw to her ear. He traced the shell, and she gasped and pressed tighter to him.
She was a force, and he was powerless against the gale that was Poppy Arrington. She slipped her hand into his coat and petted the soft cotton of his blouse, driving him to want more than was appropriate for a kiss to save her reputation. If he didn’t back away, he would good and truly ruin her.
Oh, but how he longed for more. Not an hour ago, she’d insulted him, and now he wanted to deflower her in the garden. He allowed himself to consider if she’d let him go further but decided not to tempt fate. He’d already taken advantage but couldn’t feel bad for a kiss he would remember forever.
The footsteps were long gone when he pulled back, struggling to catch his breath and regain his good sense.
Her chest rose and fell, and she glared at him with wide blue eyes made even starker by the dark lashes that framed them. Drawing her hand slowly out of his coat, she touched her lips. “Thor’s hammer. You kissed me.”
He gulped in air. “I was trying to hide you from Breckenridge. You were going to give yourself away if you kept talking.”
Blinking up at him, she was a vision, and Rhys was not immune. She might always fight with him and make him mad with her contrariness, but he’d always seen her beauty under all her awkwardness. If she had always looked at him as she did now instead of with disdain, he might have courted her years before.
He couldn’t believe the path of his thoughts. Court Poppy? It was insanity. She didn’t like him, had never liked him.
“You were trying to protect my reputation?” She tipped her head to one side.
Beginning to wonder if that was his only motivation and if his plan to rid himself of desire by winning her over would work, he shook away over examining the moment. “Yes. If he had seen or heard you, we would have a real problem and you would be ruined. I thought to keep my back to the path and block you from sight, but you wouldn’t stop talking.”
She drew her hand away from his neck, but her gaze stayed with him. “You didn’t stop even after the duke was gone.”
He missed the contact and almost reached for her hand before thinking better of it. “No. Nor did you push me away.”
The rise and fall of her breasts against his chest was more distraction than he could bear, yet he loathed to let her go. She swallowed, and he regretted not tasting her throat to find out if it was half as good as her lips. Damn, what was wrong with him?
Closing her eyes, she pulled her shoulders back. “You may release me now, Rhys. I think it is safe for me to return to the house.”
Every instinct inside him said, Hold on, don’t let go. Yet this was Poppy, a girl he called by her full name for the sole purpose of aggravating her. He let his hand drop from her waist. “I think we should discuss what just happened between us.”
“Nothing happened. I thank you for your quick thinking when I almost made another foolish mistake. I appreciate you taking control and keeping my reputation intact. I’m sure you would do the same for any of Aurora’s friends.” A cool assuredness returned to her expression. Gone were the passions of moments before.
“And that is all? You wish for me to believe you felt nothing and the kiss was meaningless?” The desire to hold her until the sensual woman of a few moments ago returned clawed inside him, and he had to stifle the urge. Perhaps kissing her back to compliance was a better idea. Yet, if it really meant nothing to her, it would be idiotic to push himself on her like some heartsick schoolboy. The Bible proverb “Pride goeth before the fall” rang in his head, but he still refused to make an ass of himself with a woman who hated him.
“Your kisses were quite pleasant. I’ll not lie.” Even in the moonlight, her cheeks pinked.
Longing to see if the blush warmed her flesh, he fisted his hands and kept them at his sides. “I’m glad you think so. Perhaps you might consider indulging again under less stressful circumstances.”
Her breath came faster, and her breasts pushed up and down with a distracting cadence. “Why would I do that? I am not some milkmaid for you to toy with.”
Surprised by the vehemence of her tone, he took half a step back. “I would never consider you as such.”
A moment passed with her gazing into his eyes. Kissing her was the only thing he wanted in the stretch where time stood still. He’d never wanted anything more, yet it had to be her choice. She already thought him a rutting animal. There was no need to prove her right.
“I must return to the house before I am missed.” Skirting him, she stepped onto the path.
It took every ounce of his will to keep from dragging her back into his arms and showing her “pleasant” until she was again breathless and yielding in his embrace. “What about Breckenridge? Don’t you want to talk about what we witnessed and heard?”
She glanced toward the trees then back at him. “I will meet you at George’s tomorrow and we can discuss it. Will two o’clock suit you?”
Although he was disappointed she had picked the public patisserie and teahouse for a meeting, he could make no complaint that wouldn’t sound like he was trying to get her alone. She would think he wanted more kisses, and she would be right. He bowed. “As you wish, Penelope.”
Even knowing the name would bring her frown, he took joy from the way ferocity returned to her eyes before she ran back to the house.
Watching her go, Rhys knew he would kiss her again. She had returned his affection with more passion than he could have imagined. It should have doused the fires of his desire for her, yet he longed for more. Perhaps his plan was in error. First, he needed to find out why she disliked him so. Once she was out of sight, he strolled the cobbled path toward the house. He tried to remember a time when she hadn’t regarded him with disgust, but other than a few moments earlier when they kissed, she had always thought him worse than dirt under her boot.
Try as he might, he could think of no reason for her to hate him. Other than always calling her Penelope, he’d never done anything to her that might cause a bad impression. In fact, in the six years of their acquaintance, tonight had been the first time in memory they had ever been alone together.
It shouldn’t matter, but somehow it did. Finding out why Poppy had such a low opinion of him and changing it was his first order of business. When she saw him at George’s, she would find him the most charming companion.
In the meantime, perhaps Breckenridge’s foreign friend Geb was known around town. As soon as Faith and Poppy were in their carriage home, he would go to his club and ask a few discreet questions about the mysterious man with a map.
The ball was still horribly crowded when he returned. Lady Sottonfield was lamenting the early departure of the Duke of Breckenridge. Faith and Poppy stood with their heads together whispering. Poppy pointed to the tear on the hem of her gown while Faith inspected the dirt marring Poppy’s glove. She must have fallen in her rush to get away from him. The Countess of Dornbury growled about the fact that Breckenridge had only taken two dances with Faith before disappearing into the gardens never to return.
Rhys made his way through the crowd toward Poppy and Faith and had almost reached them when his childhood friend, Garrett Winslow, stepped into his path. “Garrett, I thought you were out of the country?”
“I’m only in London for a few weeks. My mother forced me home for my cousin’s wedding. I’m returning to the Continent as soon as possible.” Garrett’s easy smile was a reminder of simpler times. Though Garrett would one day be the Duke of Corbin, he was rarely stoic as most dukes were. He kept his hair overly long and tied back in a queue, his light brown eyes smiled, and the lines around his mouth proved the expression was meant for all to see. Even when Rhys was in a foul mood in their youth, Garrett always cheered him.
Searching over his friend’s shoulder, Rhys caught a flash of lavender as Poppy exited to the foyer. He would have to wait for George’s to see her again. He must be losing his mind to be suddenly consumed with any woman, let alone Poppy. Turning his attention back to Garrett, he said, “It’s good to see you. I’m heading to White’s. Would you care to join me? You can tell me of all your adventures while I’ve languished here in London.”
Garrett crossed his arms, causing the fabric to stretch over muscular arms. “From the way you were looking at the pretty brunette in the purple gown, I’d say you have done a bit more than suffer.”
Shanking off the comment as a joke, Rhys slapped Garrett on the back. “Just one of Aurora’s friends. I’m always making sure those girls stay out of trouble.”
“It looked like more to me.” Garrett’s gaze followed where the ladies had exited the archway. When he turned back, a sad cast clouded his expression. “How is your sister? I heard her husband died.”
“She’s as well as can be expected. Let’s get out of this crush.” Hoping to catch one last glimpse of Poppy as she left, he charged for the exit. Disappointed to only see the carriage rolling away, he returned to claim his overcoat.
Eyebrows raised, Garrett held back a laugh. “Yes, now I see you are just looking out for your sister’s friends. That is very clear.”
“Shut up, Garrett.”
Garrett chuckled until they were seated in Rhys’s carriage. “Who is the friend of Aurora’s who has your attention so fully?”
“It’s a long story.” Rhys searched a sea of carriages clogging the street.
“As it would seem we shall be here for some time, you may as well tell me. But, only if it’s an entertaining tale.” Garrett’s toothy grin shone in the light from the house.
Having been immersed in the Wallflowers for too many days, a male perspective was tempting. “I am helping Aurora and her friends discover if the Duke of Breckenridge is a suitable match for Lady Faith Landon.”
Mouth agape like a carp, Garrett stared. He opened and closed his mouth several times. “Why on earth would you do that? He’s a duke; of course he’s suitable.”
A vise tightened around Rhys’s heart. “Radcliff was an earl, and I have recently learned not at all good enough to marry my sister or anyone for that matter.”
“What do you mean?” Garrett leaned forward, and worry etched lines around his usually happy eyes.
Taking a deep breath, Rhys pulled his rage under control. “It’s not my place to tell Aurora’s story. You have been friends with her long enough. Perhaps she would be persuaded to tell you.” He shook away his hurt at being kept in the dark for three years. “I am inclined to like Breckenridge, but his behavior is strange.”
A heavy silence hung between them. When Garrett finally spoke, his tone was preoccupied and pensive. “My interest is piqued. I thought all women wanted to marry exceedingly rich, titled men with land. I’m sorry to know Aurora’s marriage was not what she might have wished. How is Breckenridge’s behavior unusual?”
Rhys told him about the duke’s clandestine meeting with Geb but left out the fact that Poppy had been tucked perfectly against him throughout their spying.
The carriage moved several feet and stopped. Garrett clutched the window frame as he was jerked about. “I don’t know Breckenridge, but I have met a man named Geb Arafa. He’s from Egypt and deals in rare artifacts and, I’m told, information as well. He has an estate just outside of London. I can’t imagine there are many men named Geb in London.”
Rhys was almost giddy with the tidbit of information, and his desire to tell Poppy at once nearly had him jumping from the carriage and running across town to find her at his sister’s house. He steadied his heart. “That’s good news. Perhaps if we can’t cypher out Breckenridge directly, we can see what kind of company he keeps.”
“Geb Arafa is not a man to be trifled with. You may want to tread carefully.” Garrett poked his head out the window. “We will be an hour getting out of this mess.”
Sighing, Rhys leaned back and tried to forget how perfect Poppy felt in his arms and how she tasted. Unfortunately, the kiss was unforgettable, as was the vision in lavender. Something had to be done about the way she made him feel, and exposing himself to more of her was not working. Now that he’d tied himself into this investigation, there would be no avoiding Poppy Arrington until they completed their task. “Tell me about your travels, Garrett. Where did you go?”
“Since when do you care about France and the Italian Peninsula?”
It was true, Rhys had never cared about travel. He found enough distraction in his own estates and the vistas in England. He laughed. “I’m in need of a distraction.”
Garrett leaned forward and watched Rhys. “Have you gone and fallen in love?”
“No.” Rhys sat up straight and forced his best frown.
“Are you certain?”
“Positive.”
With a humph Garrett sat back against the cushion as the carriage finally moved down the road.