A Spinster’s Guide to Danger and Dukes (Ladies Most Scandalous Book 3)

Langham turned to Lord Short and was startled by the very ordinariness of the man. Sir Sylvain Short was, like his name suggested, of small stature. His hair, which was slightly longer than fashionable, was the color of dishwater. His features were neither handsome nor ugly. Really, the fellow’s only remarkable feature was his eyes, which were a muddled light blue, and so pale as to almost be colorless.

The effect was unsettling but hardly so outstanding to render the man himself memorable. If Langham were going to conjure the perfect disguise for a swindler or a criminal of any kind, really, he’d choose just this sort of fellow. Who could possibly recall enough about the man to describe him to a friend, much less to the authorities?

At the baronet’s side, Lady Short remained silent, but something about her expression told Langham that Poppy’s mother was under the sway of some strong emotion. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, and he had a strong suspicion that if her husband wasn’t there she’d have gone to her daughter as soon as she’d spied her on the other side of the room.

“Mama,” Poppy said, pointedly ignoring her stepfather, and focusing her attention on her mother, “I’d like to introduce you to my fiancé, the Duke of Langham. Langham, may I present my mother, Thomasina, Lady Short.”

“Fiancé?” Lord Short echoed in disbelief. “You? Betrothed to a duke? I don’t believe it.”

Then, as if he’d spoken before he could stop himself, Langham saw the man school his features into a mask of pleasant surprise and correct himself. “That is to say, what happy news. We are, of course, pleased to welcome you to our home, Your Grace. You could not have chosen a more suitable duchess than our dear Poppy. We must not let the sad news about our dear Violet’s husband overshadow your joyous announcement. Life does go on, does it not? And here we thought you were destined to remain a spinster. What happy news you’ve brought us, daughter.”

It was remarkable, Langham thought with something like awe, how quickly the man had gone from petulance to joy, and in the process entirely ignoring the fact that his own daughter was under suspicion for the murder of her husband. And the damnable thing of it was that Short’s manner was so convincing—even to Langham, who’d seen the progression of emotions cross his face—that anyone who was unfamiliar with him would believe him to be sincere.

Lady Short, on the other hand, had flinched at the mention of Violet and the death of Lovell, and it was clear from her expression that she wished to speak to her elder daughter. But with Short beside her, that seemed unlikely to happen without Langham’s intervention.

Cutting off Short, who had been asking about wedding plans, midsentence, the duke addressed the older man. “Since only a few moments ago you called my intended bride a liar,” Langham said coldly, making use of every inch of his superior height to tower over the other man, “I find your sudden change of heart questionable at best.”

Short laughed as if there was some shared joke between them. “Oh, you mustn’t pay any attention to that, Your Grace,” he said with an easy smile. “Poppy knows I only spoke the words in jest. We were ever poking fun at one another. My wife and I are, of course, delighted to see our dear Poppy after so much time has passed and to learn that she has secured the hand of such an important personage as yourself, Your Grace. It is just the thing to bring us out of our doldrums.”

Beside him, Langham heard Poppy gasp, and Lady Short raised a hand to cover her mouth.

But, unmoved by the ladies’ reactions, Short kept smiling and offered his hand to Langham’s to shake. “Welcome to the family, Your Grace.”

But the duke simply stared at the proffered hand. The silence in the room loomed, but neither man broke it for several uncomfortable seconds.

Finally, without any sign that he’d taken offense, Short turned his attention to Poppy and stepped toward her as if he would envelop her in a hug. She physically recoiled, and Langham held up a hand to stop the other man from advancing any closer.

“My intended does not wish you to touch her, sir.” Given the provocation, Langham would have shoved Short away, but Poppy’s stepfather did not come any closer.

“Come daughter,” Short said with a note of disappointment. “It’s been nearly two years since you left us. You must know how much we’ve missed you.”

“The last time I saw you, sir,” Poppy said coldly, “was when you locked me in my bedchamber with a threat of a beating if I didn’t accede to your wish that I marry Mr. Lovell. You’ll forgive me if I don’t wish to play at happy families with you. My sole reason for calling today is to see Violet and Mama. “

Lady Short, who had been standing mute through this exchange chose this moment to speak up. “You mustn’t speak to your step-papa that way, Poppy,” she said, though it was clear from her subdued tone that she was not entirely sincere. “He has been good to us, and if you’d only done as he wished, Mr. Lovell would still be alive and your poor sister would not be in her current predicament.”

Poppy’s face paled at her mother’s implied accusation. “Mama, I know you feel you must come to his defense, but we both know that my stepfather is to blame for what befell Mr. Lovell. Not me, and certainly not Violet.” Poppy managed to keep her voice level, though Langham could tell she was not as calm as she seemed from the way she gripped his arm.

“That’s a lie,” Short hissed. “How dare you accuse me of murder in my own house, you ungrateful wretch.”

Again, he made to move toward Poppy, and this time Langham stepped in front of her. “I will not warn you again. As my betrothed, Miss Delamere is under my protection, and I do not take kindly to those who threaten what is mine.”

Short glared up at him, all traces of his earlier false humor gone. Nodding, he stepped back. But his expression did not soften.

Taking Poppy’s arm again, Langham said to Lady Short, “My betrothed is overset by this brangling. Perhaps you’d be so good as to bring her sister to us so that we may complete our business here.”

Though his manner was gentler with Poppy’s mother, Langham did not pose the request in the form of a question.

“My…my daughter is s-sleeping just now,” Lady Short stammered, glancing nervously at her husband. “Perhaps you can return tomorrow. When she has had a chance to rest.”

“Please may I see her, Mama?” Poppy asked, her voice softening.

Lady Short opened her mouth to reply, but her husband gripped her firmly by the arm and she shut it.

“Your poor Mama is also weary,” Short said to Poppy, slipping back into an air of husbandly solicitude. “You may leave us now.”

And with that, the baronet escorted his wife from the drawing room, leaving Langham and Poppy to see themselves out.

“Why did you not press him?” Poppy demanded as soon as they were in the curricle and out of earshot of the house. “If Violet is resting, I’ll eat my hat. She’s likely been locked away in her bedchamber, just as he did to me when I refused to marry Lovell.”

“Once they’d denied our request to see her,” Langham said calmly, hoping to soothe her agitation through his own composure, “there was little hope of changing your stepfather’s mind. And make no mistake, it was on his orders that your mother tried to fob us off with the excuse that your sister was sleeping. It was clear she did not wish to say the words, but she could hardly say anything else when he was right there beside her.”

Poppy sighed, and the sound of defeat made Langham want to go back to the grange and throttle Lord Short.

“You’re likely correct,” she said, her earlier rigid posture now replaced with a slump. “His hold on her is much worse than it was when I left two years ago. I’ve never seen her so cowed before. Even when he was at his most cutting.”

“She’s endured much this week,” he replied. “Your appearance on her doorstep after years away must have been an additional shock.”

“A happy one, I’d have hoped,” Poppy said bitterly.

“And I suspect it was,” Langham said, glancing over at her. “But now she will fear for your safety as well as your sister’s. We will need to find another way to see Violet, and then, hopefully, we will be able to arrange time alone for you with your mother as well.”

“And by what miracle will you arrange that?” Poppy asked skeptically.

“We’re going to see the magistrate and request that he change the location of your sister’s confinement from Rothwell Grange to the abbey,” he told her as he let the bays gain a little speed. “Even Lord Short cannot argue with that.”

“Of course,” Poppy gasped. “He won’t dare step a foot wrong with the magistrate lest the man decide to look more closely at his business dealings. I don’t know what scheme he is currently embroiled in, but I have no doubt there is one.”

“Precisely,” Langham agreed, thinking that Stannings would also have some idea if anyone in the area had complained about being taken in by Short. “It might not go amiss to contact Eversham about your stepfather’s financial misdeeds, as well. If Short knows that Scotland Yard is looking into him, he will surely make himself more amenable to our demands.”

At the mention of Eversham, however, Poppy’s eyes widened in alarm. “Do not contact Eversham just yet, please.”

He frowned. “Why? I should think that your position with Lady Katherine would mean that—”

“I spent the past two years lying to Kate, Caro, and both their husbands about my true identity,” she said, guilt shadowing her blue eyes. “I’m not ready to face their disappointment just yet.”

“You had good reason for your deception, Poppy,” he argued. “I feel sure that they would forgive you if you told them the circumstances.”

But the tension emanating from her didn’t diminish. “If it becomes necessary to contact Mr. Eversham in order to clear Violet’s name, then I will agree to it, of course. But please give me a few days to get used to the idea. Because you know as well as I do that if he comes here, Kate and Caro will come with him.”

Recalling the genuine affection he’d seen between the three women in London, Langham had a feeling that her friends would be much more forgiving than Poppy seemed to think, but it was clear she felt strongly about the matter, and he didn’t wish to add to her upset. “Very well, but let me know as soon as you’re ready for me to contact him.”

She nodded, and her relief was clear. Then, as if remembering another concern, she twisted her lips into a pained expression. “Are you certain bringing Violet to the abbey is wise? I’ve already upset your sister with my mere presence, not to mention how I spoke to her. I haven’t even met your grandmama yet, and she’s sure to hate me. And now you’re going to foist an accused murderess on them? It’s hardly the sort of thing to endear any of your family to our betrothal—whether it’s fictitious or not.”

“You leave my family to me, my dear Miss Delamere,” Langham assured her. “What good is it to be the Duke of Langham if I cannot simply do as I please?”

*  *  *

“You are the Duke of Langham! You cannot simply do as you please,” the dowager all but shouted at her grandson as he and Poppy stood before her in her private suite of rooms in the abbey an hour later.

So much for the freedoms of being a duke, Poppy reflected dryly. She could feel his tension in the arm he’d offered her before they’d gone upstairs to answer the dowager’s summons. It had never occurred to her that a man of his stature and status might feel anything but annoyance when called to the carpet by a female relation. But it was clear from the way he politely allowed his grandmother’s tirade to continue unchecked that despite his intent to thwart her matrimonial plans for him, he disliked making her unhappy.

“You knew very well that I’d invited the crème de la crème of London’s most eligible ladies, Langham!” the dowager continued, her face rosy with ire as she stroked the little dog in her lap in agitation. “You have a duty to this family to marry well, boy. You cannot simply elevate some nobody to the title of duchess without a by-your-leave, no matter how pretty she may be. She was employed for pity’s sake. And lived on her own in London. Dukes do not marry ladies who work for a living, Langham. It’s simply not done.”

Finally, she stopped to draw breath, then said crossly, “And do sit down. Both of you. I will get an ache in my neck from looking up at you.” Her blue eyes, so like her grandson’s, were still narrowed with pique, but Poppy thought she seemed to have vented most of her spleen.

“As you wish,” Langham said pleasantly, leading Poppy to a settee near the fire. It was still a little chilly for May, and she was grateful for the warmth. “The last thing Miss Delamere or I could want is for you to do yourself an injury. Isn’t that right, my darling?”

Poppy gave the duke a sidelong glance at the endearment, sensing some devilry on his part, but the sweet smile he’d given her seemed so sincere, she almost believed he meant it. Unable to tell the difference, her heart constricted all the same.

The dowager huffed. “If you had a care for my comfort, you would not have brought this chit home with you in the first place. A fine thing to gift me on my birthday—unhappy guests and a betrothed so far beneath you even the servants will look askance at her.”

Though she’d managed to change from the travel-soiled gown that Langham’s sister had found so objectionable into a far more fashionable one she’d purchased ready-made from Kate’s dressmaker, she now realized she could be wearing a custom-fitted Worth frock and the dowager would still have greeted her with the same enthusiasm as a snake in one’s sewing box. The dowager had had plans, Poppy realized, and nobody liked to have their expectations thwarted. Especially not dowager duchesses accustomed to having their every whim satisfied.

Still, recalling the way Langham had come to her defense with Lord Short earlier, Poppy wanted dearly to repay the favor. “I fear you are being most unfair to the duke, Your Grace,” she said, unable to hide her wince when the dowager turned her gimlet eye upon her. Still, Poppy pressed on. “Langham was very concerned over how our news would affect your party,” she said truthfully. If his concern had been more about having to manage the disappointment of the prospective brides than worry over his grandmother’s reception of their news, well, that was neither here nor there.

To her surprise, the dowager lifted a lorgnette to her eyes to examine Poppy more closely.

So that’s where he learned to wield a quizzing glass. Poppy turned a speaking look upon the duke, but he shrugged, if a little sheepishly.

“Put that thing away, Grandmama,” he said, making a show of patting Poppy on the hand. “You’re making my poor fiancée nervous.”

“I am no such th—” Poppy began.

But Langham interrupted her. “Though you have endeavored more than once to browbeat my duty into me, Grandmama, I have always managed somehow to forget those lessons when the need suits. The moment I asked my dearest Poppy to be my wife is perhaps the most felicitous. I had hoped you would have the good sense to wish us happy.”

“Happy?” the dowager scoffed, dropping the lorgnette in disgust. “How can I wish you happy when I must go back down to the drawing room and pretend to welcome such a creature into our family. It is not to be borne.”

Though she’d been trying to keep her temper, Poppy was growing weary of the dowager duchess’s derision. But Langham’s stillness beside her alerted her to the fact that he was more annoyed still.

His earlier good humor, she saw when she glanced over at him, had been replaced with a look remarkably similar to the one he’d directed at her stepfather.

“I was prepared for some degree of petulance on your part, Grandmama. But this denigration of my betrothed will end now. You will refer to her as Miss Delamere, or by her given name. And you will treat her with the respect that is due to her as the affianced bride of the Duke of Langham, madam, or we will begin your removal to one of the estates in Scotland this very day.”

The sharpness of his tone made Poppy flinch, but the squeeze of his hand offered silent reassurance. She’d become so accustomed to fending for herself—first in Lord Short’s household, and then in London—that she was nonplussed at his championing of her. She’d begun the day thinking him high-handed and a bit too accustomed to having his own way. And she hadn’t exactly changed her mind on either point. But whatever her opinion of the man had been before, she now knew that he was more than just the arrogant aristocratic face he showed to the world.

Langham’s words must have startled his grandmother as well, because she paled and blinked. Poppy could almost hear the calculations running through the older woman’s mind as she tried to decide just how serious her grandson was about his threat.

“Try my patience if you don’t believe me,” he said, as if reading his grandmother’s thoughts.

“Very well,” the dowager conceded at last. “I am still put out with you, but I suppose you give me no choice but to do the pretty for her. No matter how unsuited she might be to serving as your duchess. Not to mention the bad business with the sister and her parents.”

“I didn’t hear an apology for Miss Delamere in that little speech,” Langham said mildly.

“Langham, there’s no need,” Poppy protested, laying a hand on his arm. She’d been oddly moved by his defense of her, but she didn’t wish to be the cause of a permanent rift between them. Especially given that their betrothal wasn’t even real.

Not to mention that making an enemy of the dowager would only make her time at the abbey that much more uncomfortable.

“I don’t need an apology.” If she’d expected the duchess to be grateful for her demurral, however, Poppy was to be sorely disappointed.

“You see there? No backbone at all!” The dowager shook her head in disgust. “I suggest you learn to stand up for yourself, gel, or you will have every mushroom and hanger-on in society pulling you this way and that. A duchess must be sure of herself, above all. I have cultivated one of the most fearsome reputations in the ton. It wasn’t through timidity, I can tell you.”

Beside her, Poppy heard Langham give a snort of laughter. She turned to him with a frown. “What is so amusing?”

“Do not rip up at me, but I cannot help thinking that ‘meek’ is the last word I’d ever use to describe you,” he said with a grin. And despite herself, Poppy grinned back.

“Timidity has never been what I’d consider one of my overriding characteristics,” she conceded wryly.

“What are the two of you whispering about?” the dowager demanded. “It is quite rude, but not the sort of behavior from either one of you that should surprise me.”

Before Langham could respond, Poppy took the opportunity to pat him on the arm. “Allow me,” she told him in an undertone.

To the dowager she said in a louder voice, “Your Grace, I hope you will come to know me better. Indeed, it is my greatest wish that we become friends this week. But I must agree with the duke. I can stand up for myself when necessary, and in this instance, I was simply trying to keep Langham from being overly harsh with you. Clearly that was my mistake. If my concern for your feelings makes you believe that I have a propensity to let myself be trampled upon, then I will give him free rein to chide you as he sees fit from now on.”

The dowager stared at her like a cat that had danced a jig for the barest moment before her scowl turned into a wide smile that was not unlike her grandson’s.

“Well played, gel. Well played. I won’t say that I’m any more sanguine about Langham’s recklessness in choosing you, but I’m glad to see you don’t bear any resemblance in personality to your pinch-faced mama. It will take all of my social standing to turn this misalliance into something resembling a good match, but make no mistake, I will do just that.”

Ignoring the insult to her mother—that was an argument for another day—Poppy nodded in acknowledgment. “I thank you, Your Grace. I hope I will manage to make the task no more difficult than it has to be.”

“The first thing we must do,” the dowager returned baldly, “is to find a wardrobe for you that doesn’t look fit for the rag bag. Am I correct in assuming the rest of the clothing you’ve brought is equally shabby?”

Before Poppy could reply, Langham spoke up. “I thought perhaps one of my sisters might have something she might wear until we’re able to visit the shops in London.”

“That will do for a few days,” the dowager said with a frown, “but she can hardly be seen in your sisters’ castoffs for the entire week. It’s not fitting for the future Duchess of Langham. Of course, we’ll have my modiste come up from London. In the meantime, I’ll have Jacobs take her measurements to send with the messenger so Madame Roget can alter some gowns she’s already working on.”

“Oh, but there’s no need—” This ruse had already left Poppy far more indebted to the duke than she’d anticipated. She could never possibly repay him for gowns crafted by the sort of dressmaker patronized by the dowager duchess.

But Langham was already waving away her protest. “I’m afraid in this case Grandmama is correct. I hadn’t considered the implications of your wearing my sisters’ gowns for the rest of the week. I daresay they have several that they’ve never even worn, but servants gossip. And I cannot have it be put about that I’m a skinflint.”

Poppy tried to convey her objection to the notion with her eyes, but Langham only raised his brows at her in an equally speaking look.

“Do not be stubborn,” he said finally, his voice ringing with such finality that she knew she had lost this particular battle.

“Fine,” she said grumpily. “I don’t like it, but I suppose I have little choice in the matter.”

“Every gel likes new dresses,” the dowager corrected her. “And it’s not as if Langham can’t afford it. He’s proved to be much better at managing the dukedom’s fortunes than either his father or grandfather before him, bless them. My husband and son were dear men, but they didn’t know the first thing about estate management.”

It was the first nice thing the dowager had said to Langham since he and Poppy had entered her parlor. And to Poppy’s surprise, rather than preen at the praise, he instead changed the subject.

“We’d better get back to your guests,” he said pointedly to the dowager, standing and indicating that Poppy should also rise. “I daresay they have eaten all the sandwiches by now.”

Could it be that the lofty Duke of Langham was uncomfortable with compliments? It was an odd notion, considering that he must find himself the object of all sorts of admiring comments. He was a duke, after all.

Then she recalled what he’d said about the fawning and flattery to which he was subjected and realized it might not be all that strange for someone who had reason to think praise was very often suspect to dismiss kind words. Even when they came from loved ones.

She would have reflected more on the paradox, but it was clearly time for them to go to the drawing room.

“I will ring for more sandwiches as soon as we go in,” the duchess said, handing her sleeping Pekingese to a waiting maid. “I daresay Percy will wish for some as well. He is always peckish after a nap.”

“You spoil that dog,” Langham said with a roll of his eyes. “I daresay he eats better than some of the royal dukes.”

“Now that you are betrothed,” the dowager said with a speaking look, “perhaps I can expect to spoil a ducal heir soon.”

To Poppy’s amusement, twin flags of color appeared on Langham’s cheeks.

But her own stifled laughter was cut short when the dowager said, “I hope your reason for marrying is not because you expect to do so sooner than is proper.”

Poppy felt her own face heat and was about to utter a denial when Langham beat her to it.

“Grandmama, behave yourself,” he said sharply. “You’re embarrassing Miss Delamere.”

“Given the haste of this betrothal, Langham,” the older lady said without an iota of repentance, “and your reputation with the ladies, it is a reasonable question. Though in my day it would not make a difference one way or the other if you had anticipated your vows. My generation was far more practical about such matters than the current one. I blame the queen. Though given the number of children she has herself, one would suppose she’s not quite so priggish as all that.”

Poppy dared to look over at Langham and saw that he was just as uncomfortable by the dowager’s frank talk as she was.

“What?” the dowager demanded looking from her grandson to Poppy and back. “You young people behave as if you were the ones to discover passion. Which is patently absurd, considering you would not be here to look so pained at my plain speaking if that were the case.”

Poppy and Langham exchanged an amused look. The dowager did have a point, she supposed.

“Well,” Langham said, after a cough that might have been covering up a laugh, “it is not something that we need be concerned about in this case.”

When the dowager began to speak, he held up a staying hand. “Pray, let us change the subject, Grandmama. I do not believe my heart can endure more of your plain speaking at the moment.”

Looking amused despite her pursed lips, the dowager turned to Poppy. “Come, Miss Delamere. If we are to convince the young ladies I invited to parade before my grandson that I am happy he’s chosen you, then we had better make a good show of it.”

Feeling rather as if she were jumping from the frying pan into the fire, Poppy gave the duke a wide-eyed look that clearly asked for help. But he only gave her a cheeky wink and followed them into the hallway beyond.

Do not be such a mouse, she chided herself as she and the dowager neared the drawing room, where the sound of conversation could be heard even from outside the chamber. But it had been such a long time since she had entered a social gathering as herself. Even if she was playing the role of Langham’s betrothed, she hadn’t been introduced to a crowd of guests as Poppy Delamere in two long years. She wasn’t even sure she knew who that person was anymore.

As they neared the doorway, she felt Langham step up beside her and take her other arm. “Breathe,” he said in a low voice only she could hear. “You aren’t timid, remember?”

She felt the soft warmth of his breath on her neck and could just detect the sandalwood scent of his soap. And almost imperceptibly she felt herself relax.

“No, I am not,” she said, although she wasn’t sure if she was speaking to him or to herself. And then steeling her spine, she allowed the duke and his grandmother to lead her into the fray.