On the second day of travel, after bidding the Ionescus goodbye, Poppy again declined to travel in the carriage with Rhys. The decision was made out of protective instinct and left her wishing she’d been braver as she watched the countryside roll by.
She missed the way he looked at her and the way he smiled when she said something he agreed with. She even missed the frown when he disagreed. She’d somehow become sensitive to his moods and expressions.
The day was long, and they only stopped twice to change horses and eat a quick meal before pressing on to their second stop. It was a very nice inn, but they were exhausted by the time they arrived after dark. The ladies had taken their supper in their rooms and gone to bed.
Poppy nibbled her food and watched out the window at the moon for hours after Mercy had fallen asleep. All her life she had known exactly what she wanted and what she didn’t. When Mother had declared she would marry Rhys, she knew being forced into marriage was not what she desired.
This turn Rhys had taken changed things. He wouldn’t force her to marry. So, the question had become, whether she wanted Rhys for her own and was willing to give herself to him. It was a far more complicated question and harder to answer.
Movement in the yard below caught her attention. In the full moon’s light stood Rhys, gazing up at her. His smile was sad and full of longing. She had questions that needed answers. Her own cowardice had been her enemy these last few days. If she had spent them in a carriage with him, she could have questioned him to her heart’s content.
She waved, unable to keep from smiling.
His eyes brightened and he waved back.
A leap was required, but Poppy backed away from the window and climbed into her bed.
* * * *
The farther north they traveled, the wilder the countryside became and the more Poppy’s nerves frayed. She had again declined to ride with Rhys. Staring out as the terrain became rocky didn’t help, and she closed her eyes.
Startled awake when the carriage stopped, Poppy’s neck ached from the unnatural position. “Where are we?”
Aurora shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest idea, but it’s quite lovely.”
Rolling hills of grass were dotted with enormous rock formations, and a stunning lake in the distance reflected fluffy white clouds.
Garrett opened the door. He grinned and bowed. “Apparently, we are stopping for a picnic.”
“How nice,” Faith said, stepping out.
Aurora gave Poppy a sympathetic smile and left the carriage.
Mercy and Poppy followed. Mercy took her arm. “What do you think his lordship has in store for you today?”
“I cannot even venture a guess.”
The footmen set out a large blanket with food and wine. Every manner of food to be eaten with fingers from meats and cheeses to bread, biscuits, and wine. It was a feast.
When she’d had enough to eat, Poppy stood and surveyed the view. The lake was like glass, and then a rogue breeze slipped through, sending ripples along its surface. The same breeze tugged several strands of her hair loose.
She felt Rhys behind her before he spoke. He was like a caress when near. “Will you walk with me to the lake, Poppy?”
With a nod she stepped beside him, and they strolled toward the water.
“How are you enjoying the journey so far?” he asked when they were out of hearing of the others.
“You have gone to great lengths to make it pleasant.” She folded her hands together, not willing to risk touching him accidentally.
“That is not an answer to my question.”
“It has been very nice. May I ask you something?” She steadied her breathing.
“Anything.” He said it as if it should be obvious.
She stopped and faced him. “Why are you doing all of this?”
His frown made her wish she could take back the question. “Isn’t that obvious?”
“Not to me.” She resumed the walk. “I am not so special that anyone should want to make such a fuss. I’m the unwanted daughter of an earl who longed for a son. I have a reputation for making a mess of everything and have been a constant source of disappointment for my parents. A fact which they have never kept a secret. What could the Earl of Marsden want with me?”
Running his finger down her bare arm sent a chill through her. It was not entirely unpleasant. “When you share these things about your parents, it fills me with anger that I don’t know if I can control.”
“I was telling you about myself, not them.” They reached the water’s edge, and she stopped to face him.
Rhys shook his head. “You are not to blame for your parents’ bad behavior.”
“And what about my own behavior? I have disgraced them by giving my body to you.” That night had been so wonderful, and yet, it was her downfall.
Eyes narrowed, he glared at her with thinned lips and a tight jaw. “Your mother knows nothing of our night together. She saw an opportunity to get you married to an earl and that is all she cares about. What transpired between us was a beautiful thing, and I would hate to believe you regret it, Penelope.”
The last was said with such sincerity and worry, that combined with the use of her full name, it broke her heart. “Not regret as much as worry. You have been more than kind, but I don’t understand why you have gone to these lengths. You need to marry at some point, I was convenient, and you feel responsible for taking my virginity. So why all of this fuss?”
He closed his eyes, and the muscle in his jaw ticked. “At this moment, I’m going to take you back to the others. If we stay here, I will say or do something I will regret. It is amazing to me your capacity for misunderstanding. I have never met anyone who could stir my emotions, both good and bad, to this frenzied pitch.”
Rhys spun on his heels and strode back to the carriages.
Poppy was dazed by his anger but had no choice but to follow.
Guilty and confused, Poppy rode in Rhys’s carriage. Aurora rode with them to keep things proper, and it was a good thing too or they would have traveled in silence.
“How much farther is Garrett’s house?” Aurora asked after a particularly long stretch of quiet.
Rhys grunted.
“I beg your pardon?” Aurora was undaunted by his mood.
He schooled his features and faced his sister. “It will take another two days at least. I have some very nice places arranged for us to stop.”
Poppy wished the trip over. She needed to think, and it was not possible with him so close and so many people around. She’d not wished herself alone in a long time, but she needed space, and a carriage or inn was not going to provide it. The mix of his emotions with hers left her in a whirlwind.
It was late afternoon when they rolled down a long drive to a beautiful manor with yellow-and-white stone. Tall columns stood proudly beside the front door. The drive was lined with trees, creating a canopy that opened up into a large yard with a rounded lane for the horses.
They stopped at the front door where a line of servants waited patiently.
“Where are we?” Poppy asked.
“Warwick Manor. My friend David Richmond owns the house and was happy to give it to us for the night. He is not at home, but as you see the house is open.” Rhys smiled.
“No inn tonight, what a delightful surprise.” Aurora accepted a hand down from the footman.
With a sigh, Poppy moved toward the door.
Rhys touched her arm. “I’m sorry I lost my temper at the lake.”
“I try your patience. I understand. It’s a common theme in my life.” She continued toward the door.
With more speed than she would have thought possible, Rhys blocked her way and closed them back inside the carriage.
Outside, Garrett spoke to the butler and the ladies oohed and aahed over the pretty stone building.
“Poppy.” Rhys swallowed and stared at his hands.
She sat back in the seat across from him and waited.
“I was angry for a great many reasons, most of which had nothing to do with you. I thank God every day you found good friends in Switzerland. I can’t imagine how you survived the first fifteen years of your life without them. I do not wish to speak badly about your parents, but they have not done their duty by you. It is my hope this trip will show you there is another way to live that doesn’t include scheming and threats to get what one wants.”
“I learned that from the Wallflowers years ago, Rhys. It is marriage I mistrust. I don’t want to be any man’s property to do with as he pleases even if that includes beating me to death or ignoring me to seek pleasure in other women.” A weight lifted from her shoulders.
Rhys leaned forward and took her hands in his. After kissing each one, he brought his gaze to hers. “Not even if the man belonged to you in equal measure? If the man swore there was no other woman who could ever capture him the way you had. If he loved you to distraction and wanted only to make you happy for the rest of his life. What if this man didn’t know how he would go on with the demands of his own life without you in it and your refusal would leave him an empty shell?”
The touch of his hand, and the way his words sliced through her straight to her core, pushed tears from her eyes. Through a tight throat, she said, “I’m not sure I believe any man could feel emotions that deeply.”
Closing his eyes as pain washed across his face, Rhys placed her hand against his cheek.
The scratch of the day’s beard awakened every nerve and shot lightning through Poppy. She longed to comfort him but feared her own desires and remained silent and still, not even checking the tears rolling freely down her face.
Rhys let out a long breath. “Will you consider my words might be true and possible? Can you do that for me, Poppy?”
Aching deep in her chest, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.
His eyes opened.
“I will give the matter and all you have said in the last few days consideration. It is all I have been able to think about, Rhys. You have been more than kind, and I’m sorry to be so much trouble.” The old shame washed over her, forcing her to look from his soulful eyes.
With one finger, he lifted her chin so she would look at him. “I am happy to convince you there is another possible life.” His playful grin warmed the chill building inside her. “Besides, we have our closest friends, we are on a small adventure, and it has been an entertaining few days. Wouldn’t you agree?”
When she pushed aside the battle raging inside her, she had laughed more in the past three days than she had since returning from Miss Agatha’s. “You have arranged a wonderful journey.”
His expression softened, and he ran his knuckles along her jaw to her chin. “Then we should join our party and continue the recreation.”
“Of course.”
She waited for him to exit, but he stayed in the carriage with his gaze down.
“Is there something else?” Poppy asked. She wanted to comfort him despite all her doubts.
His eyes edged with worry. “There is, but this is not the place for such a discussion. I noticed at Mr. Arafa’s you enjoyed the art and artifacts in the cellar. David has a fine collection in his gallery. Will you meet me there after you have settled in?”
Once she nodded, they joined the party.
* * * *
It had occurred to Poppy to avoid Rhys and whatever he wanted to say, since it had put such serious concern on his face. The one thing she had determined during the long carriage rides filled with gazing at the countryside was, lying to herself would serve no purpose. She wanted to see him, to know what he thought, and if possible, to ease his worry.
She stepped inside the gallery and came face-to-face with a white marble statue depicting Achilles lying on his back with an arrow protruding from his heel. His mouth open in pain, he grasped the arrow’s hilt. Agony was etched on his stone face.
“It’s quite lifelike, isn’t it?” Rhys stood just a few feet away.
Poppy hadn’t heard him at all and started at his sudden appearance.
He closed the distance between them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Once her pounding heart settled back into her chest at a normal rhythm, Poppy chuckled. “I don’t know why I should be so jumpy. I knew you’d be here after all.” Another deep breath. “It is a stunning rendition. I’m very fond of the Greek and Roman mythology.”
“Is that why you use those colorful expletives?”
She shrugged and walked around the life-sized statue. “It started because Mother forbade me from using the ones I’d heard in the street or the barn. It also annoyed her to no end. Then it just became a habit.”
Offering his arm, he said, “Would you care to see the rest of the gallery?”
“I would, but I think I would like to talk before I’m distracted by the art.” She took his arm. His warmth reached her through her glove and his clothes.
His frown made her wish she’d just enjoyed a tour of the amazing gallery. The only windows were set very high on the white walls, letting in streams of light yet keeping direct light from harming the treasures within. An added benefit was more wall space for the works of art. A Vermeer hung to their right, its deep colors catching her eye.
A low bench in the corner was cushioned in royal blue. Rhys led her there and they sat.
He kept her hand in his and tugged gently on her glove until he exposed her fingers. Tracing a line from her wrist to her palm before holding her firmly, he said, “I want to talk about my past.”
Instinctively she flinched. “What do you mean?”
“Women. I want to talk about the women in my past. I want there to be no secrets between us. I know it was my behavior as a young man that colored your opinion about me.”
“You already told me about Melissa.” She shuddered at his exposing things she might not be able to forgive. Men had needs. Her mother had told her so many times that men couldn’t control themselves when faced with temptation. Yet Rhys had always been in control. Even when they’d made love, he had been gentle and loving, never the brute her mother had hinted at.
“I know, and I appreciate how kindhearted you are toward her.”
“What more could you want to tell me? I have no need to know about every conquest of your life, Rhys.” The idea of hearing his tales of other women nauseated her.
It was the first time she had seen him blush. “Conquest is a bit too strong, Poppy. That’s exactly what I want to make you understand. I was much like most men in my youth. I enjoyed women, and I’ll not apologize for it.”
Another thing Poppy’s mother often said was that men took what they want and made no apology. Poppy drew a deep breath and held fast to her seat even when she wanted to bolt from the gallery.
Rhys must have noticed her restlessness. “Shall we tour the art?”
She leaped to her feet. Ready to rush away, she was stopped when he threaded his fingers through hers.
One wall was covered in family portraits. Each had a small plaque giving the name of the Richmond depicted and the year of his or her birth. A tall man stood next to a chair with a plump woman seated. She gazed up at him adoringly, and he looked equally enamored. Poppy gazed a long minute at the love reflected in their eyes. Donald and Philippa Richmond, 1650 and 1654…even so many years in the past, their love survived in this portrait.
“David looks a lot like Donald Richmond,” Rhys said. “Same red hair and narrow chin. They look quite in love.”
“Yes.” Her voice was small and squeaked with emotion.
Rhys walked on, and she didn’t resist the tug of his hand.
“I have not been a saint, Poppy. I told you that, but I want you to understand it was never about conquest and I have never forced myself on any woman nor tried to persuade someone who was unsure. I have enjoyed women who wished to trade pleasure with me.” There was a sense of pleading in his voice as if he wanted her to understand something.
Poppy’s nausea returned. “I’m not sure I want to hear anymore.”
Stepping in front of her, he took her other hand and kissed both. “I’m sorry. This is very awkward and uncomfortable. I would not tell you this, but I know you think the worst of me in regard to relations with women. It’s important that you not create some fantasy of my bad behavior; better to have the truth.”
There was logic in that notion. She did have ideas of men going from woman to woman to win some challenge from their birth to bed as many as possible before death. “And what about me, Rhys?”
He cocked his head. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I came to you willing and wanting just as you describe these other women.” Shame covered her like a tattered blanket. A shiver ran through her, and she closed her eyes against a wave of dizziness.
Rhys lifted her into his arms and strode to the bench. He sat with her nestled in his arms. “Listen to me, Penelope.” His voice was a warm whisper where he pressed his face against the side of hers, his lips touching her ear like the wings of a butterfly. “What is between you and me is more special than I’ll ever do justice to with words. You gave me a priceless gift that night and I cherish the memory. Do not cheapen what was beautiful by making such a comparison. The moments spent with you both that night walking in the dungeons and this time right now are precious. I would spend a lifetime making more moments like this, going on adventures and making love with you, if you would let me.”
Something inside Poppy broke, and tears spilled from her eyes. She wept against his chest, shaking, unable to stop.
“Why are you crying, sweetheart?” He ran his hand up and down her back.
“I want to believe you,” she sputtered. “I want the things you say to be true and to think you’ll want me and only me for our lifetime.”
“But…” he prompted.
Poppy pushed against his chest, putting enough distance between them so she could look him in the eye. “Everything I’ve ever seen from men is colored by violence, greed, and selfishness. I don’t know how to alter my opinion.”
Smiling, he kissed her nose, her cheek, and then her lips. The pressure there didn’t force or push but rather waited and enjoyed until Poppy gave permission for more.
She opened her mouth, giving him entry, and let the kiss take form. Her tongue met his and swirled around. Inside her body melted with desire and love.
She stilled as the thought took form. She loved Rhys.
“What is it, Poppy?” He cupped her cheek and threaded his fingers through her hair.
Unable to tell him her truth, she asked, “Why aren’t you angry with me?”
A warm smile spread across his handsome face, making him stunning to behold. “Why do you think I should be angry? You told me your fears. I must endeavor to soothe them.”
“I think most men would be furious to hear I believe them violent and selfish.” She slid off his lap, afraid she might ask for more from him if she didn’t create some distance.
“I know these things aren’t true in reference to me. There is no reason to be mad over something you have been taught just because it is incorrect.” He stood and offered his hand. “Come. You should rest before dinner.”
Taking his hand, she got up. “Thank you for being so honest about your past. I wish I was different, Rhys. Sometimes I wish I was one of those girls who longed for marriage.”
“I would not change a thing about you, Poppy.”
She stopped their progress toward the gallery door. “You would have me more graceful, more feminine, more accomplished, with a better sense of fashion….”
He silenced her with a finger across her lips. His eyes were wild with some emotion beyond description. “Not one thing,” he said with more force. “I adore everything about you including the occasional tumble, torn gown, and habit of saying shocking things. I want you just as you are and would be very vexed if you changed a thing. My only wish is for you to see me as I am and not as your parents have painted men as a whole.”
“I will do my best.” The agreement came easily to her. Already many of the notions she believed were being tested by his sweet courtship.
* * * *
It was late the night they arrived at Thwackmore two days later. Poppy was so exhausted, she followed blindly behind the housekeeper, and once Jane helped her out of her dress, she fell into a deep sleep.
In the morning, she was disoriented. It took her a moment to remember where she was. Outside her window, drizzle added to the gloom she felt. She’d thought she wanted to arrive and be still, but now she was afraid Rhys would press her for an answer she wasn’t ready to give.
Shaking herself, she said, “He has not forced anything and he’s not likely to start now.”
After washing, she put on a simple peach day dress. The room was covered in a similar color, though the bed curtains leaned toward salmon. A small writing desk with paper, ink, and quill stood near the window.
Gathering her courage, Poppy studied the white gazebo at the far edge of the garden off to the left. Even in the misty weather, it was lovely with hills rolling away. Poppy imagined mountains beyond the clouds and hoped the weather would break so she might view them.
Her stomach grumbled, forcing her to brave Rhys and her friends down in the breakfast room.
The tall stairs went on forever, making her wonder how she had managed them the night before. They led down to a large foyer complete with giant chandelier and the most enormous door Poppy had ever seen. Impossibly, it was another feature she’d been too tired to notice the night before.
A footman stood to the right and with a short bow opened the door for her. “The breakfast room is through here, my lady.”
“Thank you.” Steeling herself and lifting her chin, Poppy entered.
Rhys, Aurora, and Garrett sat around a round table set for six. White linen hung from the table and sideboard with silver and gold covering everything from the goblets to the window trim.
Tall windows allowed light to flood in from the east, and gossamer white curtains draped like waterfalls.
“What a beautiful room,” Poppy said by way of greeting.
The men stood until Poppy sat down.
“Did you sleep well?” Rhys folded the paper he’d been reading and sipped dark aromatic coffee.
A middle-aged butler stepped beside her. He wore a green-and-blue tartan and bowed. “May I get you a plate, my lady?”
“Just some coffee and toast, please. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.” Poppy should have paid better attention when they arrived. She was sure the butler had been introduced.
“It’s Woolery, madam. I’ll see to your breakfast.” His accent was rich with a hint of the Scottish Lowlands thrilling the sound.
Poppy returned her attention to the table and Rhys, who watched her with a pleased expression. “I slept very well, thank you. I was so tired, I have no memory of meeting your butler, Garrett, nor climbing those enormous stairs.”
Aurora laughed. “I had a similar experience, Poppy. Don’t feel bad.”
“It was a very long day yesterday,” Garrett agreed.
Her toast and coffee arrived; she thanked Woolery and sipped. The warm, rich drink slid down her throat and invigorated her. She’d taken to drinking it against her mother’s wishes about a year earlier. Mother felt tea or chocolate was more ladylike. Poppy needed something a bit stouter to start the day.
Clearing her throat, Aurora sipped the last of her tea and stood. “Poppy, when you have finished will you meet me in the gazebo? I would like a private word.”
Poppy agreed. Aurora left and the men sat back down.
“What was that about?” Rhys asked over his paper.
Shrugging, Poppy chomped her toast. “Is there a plan for today, or are we able to amuse ourselves?”
Garrett pushed his plate aside. “You may follow your own wishes. Nothing is planned and the weather is not fine. Perhaps if it is better tomorrow, we might all take a long walk.”
“That sounds wonderful. Faith will hate it, but the rest of us will be delighted.”
“What will I hate?” Faith called from the door.
Mercy was beside her and went to look at the available food on the sideboard.
“A walk,” Poppy said.
Pulling a face, Faith joined Mercy.
With the last of her toast eaten, Poppy rose with her coffee. “I’m going to meet Aurora. I’ll see you all later.”
The men rose and bowed.
Poppy made a quick curtsy and carried her coffee to the garden. She pulled on an overcoat on account of a mist and the promise of rain as she walked to the gazebo. The first meeting with Rhys and no mention of the reason for the journey had set her at ease, and she was determined to enjoy the manor, its gardens, and her friends’ company.
The gazebo, while beautiful, offered no shelter from the mist. Poppy tromped up the three steps. “Why are we meeting out of doors on such a day?”
Aurora startled and jumped from her seat on one of four benches set along the walls. “What I have to tell you is difficult and I didn’t want to involve anyone else.”
Poppy didn’t know if she had ever seen Aurora looking so troubled. “Whatever could have put you in such a state, dearest?” She put down her coffee cup on one of the benches and rushed to her friend.
“Oh God, don’t be kind. It makes this even harder.” Aurora’s voice rang with anguish.
Taking her hands, Poppy held them so Aurora couldn’t look away. “What are you talking about?”
A tear ran down Aurora’s pale skin. Dark rings smudged under her eyes, and her lips quivered. “It was me.”
Confused, Poppy didn’t know what question to ask next. Her friend was near hysteria and she wanted to help. She tried to lighten the exchange. “All right. It was you…. What was you?”
More tears spilled from Aurora’s eyes, and she shook. “I wrote an anonymous letter to your mother informing her about you and Rhys.”
Poppy’s insides froze. She released Aurora’s hands as if they burned. It was hard to breathe. It took her a several beats to push back the wave of lunacy threatening to overwhelm her. She backed farther away. “Why would you have done such a thing?”
Hands opening and closing on nothing, Aurora bit her lip. “It was so obvious when the two of you came back from Mr. Arafa’s home you were in love and perfect for each other. I knew you would never accept that you loved him without a push.”
“So, you betrayed me? One of the few people in my life I trust, and you deliberately put me in a position to be owned by a man? Did Rhys ask you to do this?”
Aurora stepped forward, eyes pleading. “Rhys knows nothing about this. And would it be so terrible to be married to him? A man who will love you and care for you. A man who will never hurt you. You would be my sister.”
“I already was your sister.” Poppy’s heart ripped in two. The garden spun, and she gripped the post of the gazebo, a splinter digging into her palm. She gripped harder.
“Don’t say it as if it is no longer true,” Aurora cried in earnest. “I wanted you to be safe from my fate and to be happy.”
Chin quivering, Poppy fought to keep her knees from collapsing. “And have I been happy since Mother got your letter? Have you made me or Rhys happy with your subterfuge?”
Aurora’s mouth opened, but she said nothing.
Hobbling down the steps, Poppy ran through the garden to the open hillside.
Aurora called after her.