Dukes to the Left of Me, Princes to the Right (16 page)

“You’ll stay here.”

“
No
. That’s outrageous. We’re … we’re in this together, remember?”

He must admit, her saying so assuaged a portion of his extreme annoyance at the whole situation.

He turned to Mrs. Travers. “Do you know a Lady Caldwell in Surrey?”

The woman put a hand to her breast. “Of course. Lord and Lady Caldwell are one of the finest families in all of Surrey. The altar guild at our church—I’m the presiding officer, you know—was once invited to her home for a delightful tour of her gardens. Their estate is a mere three miles from my village.”

“She’s my godmother and my father’s first cousin,” Nicholas said. “We’ll stay with her, and I promise we’ll return the pendant, in pristine condition, as soon as we’re able. In fact, Lady Caldwell would no doubt welcome you and your maid to stay with us until the pendant is, um, made available to us again.”

The woman blushed. “I appreciate that, young man.” She laid a hand on his arm. “My late husband gave me that bauble. I’m sorry if I was a bit rude. I would dearly love to stay with Lady Caldwell.”

“Then it’s settled,” he said gruffly. “And please don’t apologize. I understand your panic.” While Mrs. Travers’s chins quivered and her maid tried to soothe her, Nicholas turned once more to Poppy. “Your father should have no objections. We’ve come up with a perfectly proper solution.”

“Good.” She grinned. “I was beginning to think we were in well over our heads.”

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “We’ll be much more involved with looking around our feet the next day or two.”

“Thanks to Boris.” Once more she scratched the little criminal behind his ear.

Yes, thanks to the damned dog,
Nicholas thought, then adjusted his thinking. Perhaps he should be grateful. He’d been in a rut lately, hadn’t he? Because of Boris, he’d be leaving London with Poppy. Being with her always promised surprises.

And he must face the fact—he was in desperate lust with his fiancée. Surely he could wrangle an opportunity to be alone with her in Surrey, godmother in residence or no.

*   *   *

Poppy felt rather excited when Nicholas dropped her off at home, along with Mrs. Travers, her maid, and Boris, while he paid a personal visit to Sergei to explain the awkward situation and to send a messenger ahead to Lord and Lady Caldwell to inform them they were coming.

It was amazing how one small dog could create so much fuss—and an opportunity to do something new and different. Yes, Poppy would be with Drummond, but she found herself rather intrigued by the idea of spending more time with him. Not because she had a
tendre
for the irascible duke but because he forced her to keep her wits sharp.

And perhaps because he was an amazing kisser.

Not that they’d get any opportunities to kiss at Lord and Lady Caldwell’s.

Would they?

She must admit, that possibility was what had her feeling breathless as she ran upstairs to pack a small, serviceable suitcase Kettle had found for her (as her personal luggage had been disposed of, thanks to Papa).

Mrs. Travers and her maid waited patiently in the drawing room, comforted by the presence of Cook, who brought in tea, delicious cakes, and idle gossip to share while Poppy packed. Boris waited in the kitchens, where the staff fed him a bowl of slops in hopes it would “push everything along,” according to Kettle.

As Poppy folded her best night shift, she explained the whole situation to Aunt Charlotte, who promised to explain everything to Lord Derby when he came home from Whitehall.

“Not a problem, dear,” Aunt Charlotte said. “But do remember the Spinster rule to follow when one is a houseguest.”

“What’s that?”

“A Spinster locks her bedchamber door at night.”

Poppy drew in her chin. “That seems rather obvious.”

“Yes,” Aunt Charlotte said, “but that is only
half
the rule.”

“What’s the other half?”

“A Spinster locks her bedchamber door at night
only
after she’s finished exploring.”

“Exploring?”

Aunt Charlotte chuckled. “The beauty of being on one’s own is that one may wander about a great house without people always crying, ‘Where in devil’s name are you going?’ ”

“I never thought of that,” said Poppy.

“Freedom, my dear, is the key to adventure. Guard it well. And no matter how big the adventure or how many demands it places on you, never surrender freedom completely. It keeps one young. And interesting. And alive.”

“You’re giving me more than one rule, dear aunt.” Poppy smiled. “I count five at least.”

Aunt Charlotte waved a hand. “Oh, that last bit was something I just made up. But I rather like it. I think I shall add it to the new Spinsters handbook I’m creating. Oh, and don’t forget to carry a heavy candlestick and a sharp pin when you explore.”

“Very well.” Poppy kissed her cheek. “I shall see you in two, no more than three, days.”

When she returned to the drawing room ready to depart, Mrs. Travers was overjoyed to see her and even happier to see Nicholas arrive.

“Here you are, Your Grace.” Kettle immediately placed Boris in his arms.

Poppy noticed that Drummond looked extremely grim.

“Ladies,” he said, “I’ve news. Both the Russian princess and prince will be accompanying us. They insist. It is their belief that Boris requires his mistress to be happy.”

A silence fell over the room, but then Mrs. Travers began clapping.

Poppy’s heart sank. She’d been looking forward to getting out of London for a few days. But now that the Russian twins were coming, she was exhausted already just thinking of all the attention they’d require.

She especially didn’t want any more odd conversations with Sergei. She was rapidly losing hope he had any of the wonderful qualities she’d thought he’d possessed in abundance in St. Petersburg.

“What a delight!” exclaimed Mrs. Travers. “We shall be in even more exalted company. You’re a duke, so I hear, Your Grace, and your fiancée is the daughter of an earl, which is extremely impressive. But to be traveling in the company of a prince and princess, too? Oh, my. I’m almost glad that beast swallowed my pendant.” Her face, which had been lined with smiles, suddenly drooped. “Of course, I will get it back, don’t you think?”

“Without a doubt,” Nicholas assured her, his voice rather tight. “I shall be overseeing Boris myself.”

“Oh, you wonderful man!” Mrs. Travers threw herself at him. “Who ever heard of a duke following after a one-eyed dog to see if he’ll, um, produce a pendant? How could anyone say such bad things about you?”

She covered her mouth with her hand, and her maid turned red.

“Oh, dear,” she murmured, “my maid and I were in a discussion with Lord Derby’s cook.”

“About his missing uncle?” Poppy asked.

“Or the octopus?” Nicholas asked, throwing Poppy a look that made her feel as if she were the cause of all this gossip about him, when really—

Oh, dear. She was, wasn’t she? Of course, she’d never told her suitors about the octopus, but she’d encouraged Cook to spin her tales. And Poppy had repeated them to Aunt Charlotte and her friends, and now—

Now Cook was telling all of London—and some country folk like Mrs. Travers, too. It seemed everyone was in a tizzy over the duke’s supposedly wicked and daring exploits.

Mrs. Travers bit her lip. “We heard about both the octopus and the uncle. But mum’s the word.”

She turned an invisible key in her mouth.

“That’s good of you,” Nicholas told her. “But I’m curious. What exactly did Cook say about my missing uncle?”

Mrs. Travers looked to her maid. “You tell him.”

The maid couldn’t quite look him in the eye. “He was a thin boy with beady eyes. But them beady eyes led him right to Viking gold. It was buried in the sand before your estate facing the sea. But someone in your family killed him for it, poor lad.”

She rubbed her nose as if her pronouncement were nothing particularly shocking.

“So you’re all cursed,” she concluded.

“It seems that way,” Drummond said with great cheer. “Off we go, now, ladies. I hear a carriage out front.”

Boris licked Nicholas’s face and began to whine.

Poppy looked out the window. “It’s the Russian twins.”

“I’ve got to ride with the dog,” Mrs. Travers said.

“Then you shall ride with the princess,” said Nicholas. “Because she won’t part from him.”

Mrs. Travers clapped her hand over her heart again. “My, how a day can change in a moment! Who ever thought Lily Travers would be riding in a carriage with a Russian princess!”

Yes, and who ever thought Lady Poppy Smith-Barnes, daughter of the Earl of Derby, would be following a one-eyed dog to Surrey?

CHAPTER 18

Nicholas tried not to be disappointed that Poppy rode with Mrs. Travers, her maid, and Natasha. It made sense, of course.

He rode with Sergei.

Another carriage followed behind with a few Russian servants, Poppy’s maid, and a number of trunks.

It was the longest ride to Surrey Nicholas had ever taken. The prince talked ceaselessly of his bachelor life in Russia—the women, the wine, the spectacular parties—as if Nicholas hadn’t had his own share of wild bachelor moments. And then he rattled on about his interest in cockfighting, a sport Nicholas had never enjoyed. Sergei also boasted about the number of bears he’d shot—nine—and described in minute detail how one goes about skinning one.

Nicholas listened with barely suppressed annoyance. He preferred shooting quail, but it wasn’t the lack of mutual interests that caused him to wish himself elsewhere. It was the prince’s smug manner that he found so off-putting.

The world, it seemed, revolved around Sergei.

“I’m missing a very good card game right now,” the prince said with a bit of temper, and mentioned a well-established London gambling hell where he was quickly becoming a regular player. “Too bad we’re traipsing off to Surrey.”

Nicholas shrugged. “It seemed the best solution at the time, and the ladies appear excited at the thought of spending time away from Town for a few days. You could have stayed behind, you know.”

“Yes, I suppose I could have.” The prince shrugged his shoulders and yawned. “But it will be nice to spend time with Lady Poppy.”

He was either stupid or extremely vain.

Nicholas gave a short laugh. “Was that really the best thing to say to her fiancé?”

Sergei finally seemed to notice him. “Lady Poppy and I are old friends. Surely you know that.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” Nicholas said coolly. “She told me you’re
old
friends. But at the present moment, she’s engaged to me. Or had you forgotten?”

The prince arched a brow. “I don’t like your manner, Drummond. You’re cocky. I even detect a threat in your tone. Against a Russian prince? That’s not very diplomatic of you.”

Nicholas shrugged. “If you’ve harmless intentions, you needn’t fear any threats.”

Sergei made a sulky face. “You take things too seriously, Duke. I’m only a guest in your country seeking to enjoy himself, and one way is by associating with people with whom I’m already acquainted. Surely you would grant a visiting aristocrat that much.”

“Do enjoy yourself, Sergei.” Nicholas intentionally used his first name. “Just be careful where.” He leaned back and pulled out a cheroot. “Care for one?”

Like a spoiled child, Sergei pretended not to hear him. He stared out the window, a steely look of indifference on his face.

But Nicholas knew better. The prince wasn’t used to being crossed in any way. In fact, Nicholas’s negative impression of him had only deepened after this latest conversation. Sergei was self-absorbed, not particularly bright, nor noble in character.

Nicholas wondered that Poppy had ever had a
tendre
for him, but she’d been only fifteen when she’d met him in St. Petersburg. The prince was handsome—charming, even, when he tried to be. But nothing deeper than that.

Obviously, for a girl in the throes of first love, it had been enough.

*   *   *

When they arrived at their destination in Surrey, Poppy found Lord and Lady Caldwell were nothing but smiles and warm hospitality. After a lovely tea in the drawing room, she repaired to her room, washed her face, and allowed her maid to fix her hair. But then she dismissed the girl to enjoy herself, putting away her own clothes and storing her bag at the foot of her bed.

It was time to do what Aunt Charlotte had suggested.

Explore.

The manor house was three stories high and Elizabethan in style, so she had plenty of wings to roam about, her objective being nothing more than to satisfy her curiosity about new places.

It
was
a wonderful thing to be a Spinster.

After a brief chat with the housekeeper, she found herself in the portrait gallery.

“There I am,” someone whispered over her shoulder.