Dukes to the Left of Me, Princes to the Right (19 page)

“Good for you,” said Lady Caldwell. “That prince is acting awfully possessive. I’m not sure I like his manner.”

“Go, Nicholas,” said Lord Caldwell. “Show him who Poppy’s true love is.”

“Right,” Nicholas said, in a bad mood again. He certainly wasn’t Poppy’s true love.

But he
was
going to be her husband, whether she liked it or not.

*   *   *

Poppy was in a substantial quandary, and to solve it, she needed to be alone with Sergei. Which was why she’d insisted on this walk to see the gander without Drummond.

“So,” the prince said, his voice velvety soft. “We are alone. Intrigued, aren’t you?”

“By what?”

“By me.”

She laughed. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “My exploits. My charm. I knew the minute I saw you at the Grangerford ball you could be mine.”

Good God, she’d been so blinded by her own infatuation, she hadn’t seen the obvious—Sergei was a conceited fool.

Now she inhaled a breath. “Oh. Um, about us. You’re right. At the ball, I couldn’t help thinking of you the way I did when I was fifteen. But those lingering romantic feelings I felt were really just memories, ones I thought we could perhaps relive. But we’re both older now, and so much has happened in six years. We’re different people. And now I’m engaged to the duke.”

“We are not friends any longer?”

She winced at how forlorn he sounded. “Of course we’re friends,” she reassured him. “But we’re nothing more. You live far away. I live here. We had a lovely romantic interlude long ago, but we must move on.”

He gazed at her with an intensity that harkened back to her unfortunate interaction with Lord Washburn. But unlike Washburn, at least Sergei was a pleasure to look at. His gorgeous golden locks shone in the sunlight, and his masculine form was surely the envy of any man.

“I can’t move on,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I find I have a new appetite, and it’s for Spinsters.”

“Spinsters?”
Her heart began to beat harder.

“Yes. I know about your Spinsters Club, Poppy.”

She drew in a breath. “How did you—”

“Servants will talk.” He chuckled. “All those women who want to marry? They’re dull. You, on the other hand, are forbidden fruit. You’re a Spinster. Saying the word alone drives me mad with desire. Forget about marrying the duke or any other man. I can buy you great baubles. Give you pleasure like you’ve never known. And you may remain a Spinster throughout our wild, passionate interlude, which I hope shall span years.”

She gasped. “So when you said you wanted to come to my room, you really meant—”

He nodded, a lascivious smile on his face.

So Drummond had been right. Sergei
did
want her because she was unavailable.

“And the parasol? What was I to do with that?” she asked him.

He merely chuckled. “Parasols and naked ladies … the combination is delicious.”

“Listen closely, Sergei, and listen well.” She balled her hands into fists. “I will
not
be your mistress.”

“You Spinsters have fire,” he whispered.

“No we don’t. At least, not for people we—”

Oh, dear. Drummond was heading their way. She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. With her love for Sergei gone, what was standing in the way of her engagement to the duke anymore? She’d spent more time dwelling on his kisses than on the tenets of the Spinsters Club … rules that she’d clung to rotely for so long.

But they were good rules, she reminded herself. Especially the cardinal one:
Don’t marry unless you love him and he loves you.

It seemed such a simple requirement. But it wasn’t, was it?

Her relationship with Drummond, she was coming to find out, was like a tangled bundle of yarn. She kept trying to unravel it, smooth out the knots, and understand what she had there, but …

It wasn’t so easy.

“Prince, Lady Poppy.” Already Poppy recognized that stubborn tilt to Drummond’s chin that meant he would brook no interference with his plans.

Sergei sighed. “I told you, Duke—”

“You can navigate the property yourself, I know,” Drummond said, “but I brought the lady a piece of bread to feed the gander.” And he handed Poppy the other half of his Bath bun.

“Thank you.” Poppy forged ahead with two men, each of whom was causing her loads of trouble in his own way, and found the gander by a copse of trees. She tossed him the Bath bun, and it landed on the grass near the dirt track he’d made from his constant, insatiable need to find his mate. With a squawk, he waddled quickly over and demolished it, spewing crumbs everywhere.

Sergei walked closer to the bird. He knelt, aimed an invisible rifle, and fired it.
“Ka-pow!”
He grinned back at Poppy and pointed a thumb at his chest. “
I
am master of this domain.”

She forced herself to smile. “I believe Lord Caldwell is, but I—I know what you mean. I think.”

“Stop talking to that pompous ass a moment and listen to me,” Drummond whispered to her.

“I
have
to talk to him,” she hissed back. “Groop’s orders. Besides, he’s from a ruling family, and he thinks he was born to conquer everything he sees.”

Drummond arched a brow. “Oh, is that what a royal does? Trods over everything he encounters and says it’s his? In my book, a good ruler craves knowledge about an unknown territory and shows a respectful appreciation for what he discovers.” He stared down her bodice. “I have a yen to explore—”

“Shush,” she whispered, but a slow heat spread through her veins at the look in his eye.

Sergei trudged back to them, his invisible gun forgotten, and the gander at his heels. The bird poked his beak at each of them, presumably for more Bath buns.

“Be gone, silly gander.” Sergei waved him off with a hand.

But the gander stayed right next to him, and as they walked back to the picnic area, the large, white bird didn’t leave Sergei’s side.

“Damn you, waterfowl!” Sergei shouted, stomped his feet, and clapped his hands, but the gander wouldn’t go.

“You make a noble pair,” Drummond said equably as they trudged on.

“What do you mean?” The prince looked suspiciously at the duke.

Poppy nudged Drummond with a sharp elbow. “He meant you appear quite distinguished,” she told Sergei, “with a great bird at your side.”

“He will be at my side no longer.” Sergei maneuvered behind Poppy in an obvious bid to foist the bird’s devoted attention upon her.

Surely a true gentleman wouldn’t do that,
she had the unwelcome thought, and wondered why she hadn’t noticed Sergei’s childish side when she’d been fifteen. Then again, she’d been a mere child herself at fifteen.

“The gander can’t help himself,” she said to Sergei. “I think he’s in love with you. Perhaps he thinks you’re his wife.”

“He doesn’t love me,” the prince said, drawing in his chin. “He doesn’t think I’m his
wife
.”

“Well, if he does, it’s not your fault,” Poppy soothed him. “She’s been gone these two years. He’s been searching for her.”

“It’s a tragic story,” Drummond murmured.

Poppy cast him a dark look, which he ignored, the mischief maker. She could see the little boy’s gleam of amusement in his eyes every time he stirred up trouble, rather like Lord Caldwell did with Lady Caldwell.

Were all men this way?

Or just the ones who wanted a certain woman’s attention?

Could Drummond actually be
jealous
?

She couldn’t believe it. And it was easy enough to push the thought aside when they arrived back at the picnic. Sergei demanded the servants restrain the gander and then stalked off in a rage toward the house without addressing his hosts.

*   *   *

Nicholas watched in disbelief as the prince stormed off and the gander started a plaintive honk.

“My goodness,” Lady Caldwell said. “I do believe the bird
does
think the prince is his long-lost wife. He’s never acted so besotted about a person before.”

“I wonder what it is about Sergei that makes him so attractive?” asked Poppy. “His garments? His hair?”

“No, it’s because he
is
a goose, the silliest, most self-absorbed Russian prince I’ve ever met,” interjected Lord Caldwell.

“He’s the only Russian prince you’ve ever met,” said Lady Caldwell with a chuckle.

“Be that as it may,” Lord Caldwell said. “He’s still a goose.”

Nicholas couldn’t agree more. “We should escort Mr. Gander back to the pond,” he said. “Poppy? Shall you come?”

For the first time that morning, she gave him an uncomplicated smile. “Of course.”

“Too bad Boris is occupied,” said Lord Caldwell.

The little dog was being trailed by two footmen around the massive trunk of an oak tree near the house.

“Corgis excel at herding geese, you know,” Lord Caldwell pointed out. “But he has more important business to take care of, and woe to him if he either doesn’t perform properly or is overtaxed by the burden of responsibility placed on him. He could very well set off an international incident.”

“I do believe the gander has already done so,” Nicholas replied.

Lady Caldwell chuckled. “Who knew animals could play such pivotal roles in diplomatic affairs?” She handed several Bath buns to Poppy. “Here. Take these with you to coax the gander along.”

Long-ago memories of being a carefree boy came back to Nicholas when he twisted off pieces of Bath bun with Poppy and—together, laughing—they lured the gander back to his pond. Eventually, the bird waddled off between two trees, content to be back at his favorite place.

“I enjoyed meeting him.” Poppy’s mouth was serious as she looked up at Nicholas. “Thanks for cheering me up. When the prince left in such a rude huff, I could hardly believe I had ever held him in such high regard.”

Nicholas wanted to soak up every bit of impression he could about her—her tiny freckles, her ears, so small and trim. Her mouth, with the delicate cleft shaping her upper lip into a beautiful bow. Her hair, curling in tendrils on her forehead and tumbling in fiery color onto her shoulders.

“Don’t let it bother you,” he said, feeling rather guilty himself. He’d done nothing to make the obnoxious prince feel better. Once again, he’d let personal feelings intrude on his mission. He was jealous—horribly jealous—of the prince and his connection to Poppy.

“I suppose we could have done more to keep him happy,” he said. “But who knew he’d get so upset? We’ll have to work extra hard to get back into his good graces, which means…”

“What?”

“I’ll need
you
to coax him out of his bad humor.” It went against everything in him to say it. “It’s obvious he has little use for me.”

Poppy sighed. “You’re asking a lot, you know. The man is mad for Spinsters. He found out that I’m one.”

“Everyone knows you’re a maiden and not a married lady.”

“I might as well tell you. It’s the name of my secret club—the Spinsters Club. We’re all Spinsters with a capital
S
. And now Sergei insists I become”—she looked down a moment, then looked back up, a faint tinge of pink on her cheeks—“his mistress.”

“Good God, is that what he was proposing back there?” The blackguard! Nicholas felt a sudden onslaught of deep, unadulterated possessiveness toward Poppy.

She nodded. “I didn’t want to tell you because we have to do our duty, remember? You were rather conveniently forgetting during the gander debacle. You were no help at all, as a matter of fact.”

Nicholas placed his hands on her shoulders. “I told you last night I forget about duty when you’re involved. Which is why we need to get you uninvolved. Go home, and be a good fiancée and let me finish this operation on my own.”

“No,” she insisted. “That’s not fair. I’m the one who found the message in the cane. If I hadn’t, you never would have known. And Groop would have given the operation to someone else. I told you at St. Paul’s—I intend to be involved. The same way you intend to keep me as your fiancée.”

She gave him a small, take-no-prisoners smile.

“Fine.” He sighed. “Then prove your mettle. Use that attraction Sergei has for you. Use your Spinster magnetism and hold a dinner party in his honor. That will assuage his pride.”

“Me?” Her brows flew up. “Throw a dinner party? I can’t do that. Papa wouldn’t allow it.”

“You said you wanted to stay involved. You say Spinsters are bold and can do anything.”

She bit her lip.

God, she looked enchanting when she was worked up and unsure of herself. Then again, she was just as tempting when she was quiet and confident.

Nicholas took her smooth, soft hand in his and pulled her forward, determined that they look like the lovers Lady Caldwell supposed them to be. “Don’t be like the gander, going round and round in circles, getting stuck in the same old routines and expectations. Keep your eyes open for Bath buns. For possibilities.”