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

It bothered Langham more than he cared to admit that the conversation with Stannings had not gone to plan. If he was being entirely honest, he’d assumed—wrongly it turned out—that his status would ensure Poppy’s sister would be, if not cleared, then at least lifted out from under the cloud of suspicion that currently hung over her.

So, the troubled furrow of Poppy’s brow now felt like a sign of his own failure. And he wanted to make it disappear.

Thinking to lighten her mood a bit, he turned the subject to the far more frivolous topic of the house party. “You did well with the other ladies this afternoon. I believe even Charlotte was impressed with your quick wit.”

Sighing, Poppy moved to sit in one of the armchairs near his desk. “I’m glad you think so. I must admit, after two years of living the life of a secretary, I’ve forgotten how to interact with genteel company.”

“I don’t understand. You seemed comfortable enough with Kate and Caro. Indeed, it looked to me as if they considered you their equal despite your role as Kate’s employee.” When he’d conceived of the idea to have her pose as his fiancée, it hadn’t occurred to him that Poppy would have difficulty maneuvering among his grandmother’s guests.

“Kate and Caro never excluded me, or ever treated me as if I wasn’t worthy of being listened to,” Poppy said, her hand plucking at the fabric of her skirt, “it was more that I was so afraid of giving myself away that I spent most of my time with them carefully regulating my every action.”

Langham hadn’t considered what it would be like to live in constant fear of discovery. And what had he done but put her in another situation where she was doing the same thing?

Well done.

“I apologize for placing you in a similar circumstance, my dear,” he said, feeling like the veriest clodpate. “But truly, I have never doubted that you were of gentle birth. When we first met, I assumed you were simply in straitened circumstances.”

To his surprise, she laughed. “I suppose I should be grateful for the governesses Lord Short hired for Violet and me. Though I have dispensed with any number of the rules required by polite society—really, why on earth should I be required to take a maid with me wherever I go simply because I am unmarried?—most of the teachings were so deeply ingrained they are like second nature.”

He disagreed with her about the necessity of having a maid—if only because young ladies were more prone to being preyed upon by the unscrupulous. “However uncertain you might have felt today,” he said, “it was never evident to anyone looking on. Indeed, if I didn’t already know how you’d spent the past few years, I would have thought you were fresh from the most exclusive entertainments of the London season.”

“Now that,” she said with a raised brow that was belied by the color in her cheeks, “is a bouncer if I’ve ever heard one.”

“You acquit yourself admirably,” he said, moving to sit behind his desk and busy himself with a stack of invitations simply to give him an excuse to look away from the delectable dimple that had appeared when she quirked her lips. “You must trust in your own abilities. I certainly do.”

A silence fell, then, and when he looked up he saw that she was biting her lip, and if he wasn’t mistaken her eyes were suspiciously bright.

“What is it?” he asked, frowning. “Have I said something to overset you? If so—”

“No, of course not,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “It’s just that I’ve never been able to speak frankly about my self-doubts regarding my, well, my performance. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear someone tell me I am successful in my endeavors.”

In the early days after he’d reached his majority, when he’d fully taken up the reins of the dukedom, Langham would have given his eyeteeth to be able to confide his doubts in someone. But by the very nature of his role, he had no one he could speak freely to about such things. He had no father or grandfather living, and he’d lost trust in the uncles who’d served as his guardians years ago.

Swallowing against his own unexpected emotions, he gave her a curt nod. “I’m delighted, then, to be at your service.”

Perhaps because she too was feeling the awkwardness of the moment, now it was Poppy’s turn to change the subject. And he wasn’t surprised that she went back to the topic of her sister.

“Since you seem to be pleased with my performance as your betrothed,” Poppy said, lifting her chin in that familiar way she had, “then I have a request regarding our investigation into my sister’s troubles.”

“You say that as if I am keeping a ledger and will only mete out my help if you do your own bit in turn.” His words were meant to be teasing but instead sounded sharp even to his own ears. But dash it all, here he was thinking they were kindred spirits of a sort, and she was thinking of him as some sort of earthbound St. Peter, keeping track of her good works before he’d let her into heaven.

“Not at all,” she said with a frown. “But I do not wish to take advantage of your generosity.”

Before he could object to that bit of nonsense, she continued, “Even so, I would like to visit the site where Lovell’s body was found tomorrow. As well as paying another call at Rothwell Grange so that I might speak with Violet.”

“That should be easy enough to arrange,” he said. “I am unsure of what Grandmama has planned for the guests tomorrow, but if we leave early, we should be able to visit both St. Lucy’s and the grange before luncheon.”

The smile she gave him lit up her entire face, and he was reminded that despite the way she liked to talk about herself as a spinster, she was, in fact, barely twenty-five years old.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said, rising from her chair. “I believe I will go lie down for a while before dinner. Even if I gave a credible showing at tea time, I wish to be well rested and ready to resume my role.”

Following her to the door, he said, “I meant what I said. You might feel out of practice in polite society, but you conducted yourself like exactly what you are: a lady.”

She looked as if she wanted to argue, but in the end she just gave him a half smile and shut the study door behind her.

*  *  *

Poppy felt a headache brewing in her temples as she made her way to her room, but any notion she might have had of lying down was dashed when she entered the sitting room attached to her bedchamber to find unexpected visitors had taken up residence there.

“Ah, there you are Miss Delamere,” said Lady Charlotte Felton, making Poppy wonder how long they’d been lying in wait for her. “We’ve come to deliver some gowns for you at the request of Grandmama. Heaven knows we both have far more than we can ever wear in this lifetime, or the next, for that matter.”

The other occupant of the chaise rose and hurried toward Poppy with a broad smile. It was clear from the shade of her eyes and the shape of her face that she must be a relation of Charlotte’s and therefore Langham’s. “Miss Delamere, what a delight it is to finally meet you,” the lady, whose hair was just a shade lighter than Langham’s dark blond, said as she took Poppy’s hands. “I do apologize that I wasn’t at tea when you were introduced to the rest of the party.”

Before Poppy could respond, Charlotte made a distinctly unladylike noise that sounded remarkably like a snort. “This rag-mannered creature, Miss Delamere, is my sister, Eugenia, Lady Bellwood. Really, Genia, you have the most appalling habit of rushing into conversation without conveying the pertinent information.”

Seeing that Poppy stood staring, Charlotte continued, having the grace to look chastened, “I realize that I was less than welcoming to you both at the train station and at tea earlier. I have a tendency to be a bit quick tempered and will confess to being surprised by my brother’s news. But Genia soon put me in my place. I can only apologize and hope that you will forgive me.”

This day was growing odder and odder, Poppy thought as she listened to the other woman. Still, she knew it wasn’t easy to beg forgiveness and the fact that Langham’s eldest sister was willing to do so raised Poppy’s opinion of her considerably. “Of course, you’re forgiven, Lady Felton. Langham and I knew our betrothal would come as a surprise to his family so I was expecting there would be some difficulty. I thank you for reconsidering.”

“Please sit,” Lady Felton said gesturing to a comfortable looking chintz armchair and Poppy needed no further prodding.

“I regret to inform you, Miss Delamere,” Lady Bellwood said with a warm smile, “that you will soon find this family can be, well, trying. But I hope you will not hold our fractiousness against Joshua. He is my favorite brother, and so deserves to be happy.”

Poppy blinked. Langham had mentioned he wasn’t close to his younger brother, but was Lady Bellwood implying there was something more than an age gap between the siblings? Before she could ponder the notion further, Lady Bellwood continued.

“Oh, I don’t mean to imply Adrian isn’t wonderful as well.” She smiled, and Poppy could tell Lady Bellwood’s affection for her brother was genuine. “But he’s the baby, and so delightful in an entirely different way than Joshua. Although they’re really very alike. Which is what makes it even more distressing that they don’t get along. At least not since Adrian’s decision to join the Foreign Office against Joshua’s wishes.”

The mention of the Foreign Office reminded Poppy of Langham’s suggestion that his brother might be able to assist them with details on the viability of the Amazon railway scheme.

“Will Lord Adrian be coming this week to celebrate your grandmother’s birthday, Lady Bellwood?” she asked aloud, thinking that it would save time waiting for correspondence to travel from here to London and back again if he were.

“Oh, my dear, let us dispense with the formalities. You are to be our sister, after all,” said Lady Bellwood. “We must be Genia and Charlotte from now on. And we will call you Poppy, if we may?”

A glance in Charlotte’s direction revealed that lady to be sanguine with the idea, and so Poppy nodded. “Yes, of course.”

It occurred to her that aside from when she was with Langham earlier that day, this was the first instance when she was hearing her given name since her flight from her family two years ago. It was both a relief and unsettling in a way she hadn’t been able to identify earlier. But now, she recognized it for what it was—a conflict within herself between the Poppy she was when she left for London and the Poppy she was now.

In London she’d experienced the excitement of using her natural curiosity and intellect in a way she’d never have been able to in her old life. It was a freedom she hadn’t anticipated, and one she was loath to abandon.

Before she could refine upon the matter, she realized Lady Bellwood—or Genia, rather—was speaking again. “To answer your question, Poppy, yes Adrian will arrive tomorrow. He is quite fond of Grandmama, as are we all, so would not miss her birthday. Especially since this is the first time he’s been in England for it in several years.”

“In that case, the dowager must be overjoyed to have him join her this year,” Poppy said, although clearly the same couldn’t be said for Langham.

“I’m surprised no one mentioned him at tea,” Genia continued with a frown. “He’s a favorite with the young ladies whenever he’s in residence. Though I suppose everyone was focused on the news of your betrothal. I daresay the prospective brides Grandmama invited were put out by your presence.”

“That is putting it mildly, sister,” Charlotte said before Poppy could respond. “Poppy was forced to give a set down to Louisa Beaconfield, who was positively dreadful. I once counted her a friend, but I’m afraid I may have to cut her acquaintance after this party. She has shown herself to be quite ill-mannered.”

Poppy felt a little as if she’d been caught up in a whirlwind. She’d still been offered no explanation for why Langham’s sisters were in her bedchamber, and from the various tangents their conversation was taking, it seemed as if she wouldn’t be getting one soon.

At her sister’s mention of Miss Beaconfield, Genia’s blue eyes grew round. “Oh! I am sorry I missed it. I’ve never been overfond of Miss Beaconfield. But my dear little Sibyl was feeling unwell, and I couldn’t help but make sure she was able to fall asleep. The nurseries at the abbey are so much larger than ours at home, and she always has difficulty settling in on our first day here.”

“Manners,” Charlotte said to one of the maids, who had, Poppy realized, been sorting through clothes in the attached dressing room the entire time, “you’d better ring for some tea before you get started on fitting Miss Delamere for those gowns. She looks a bit pale. And I believe Genia could use a cup as well, since she missed tea with the rest of us.”

“Oh, are you feeling unwell, Poppy?” Genia asked, looking alarmed. “I hope you aren’t coming down with something?

“I am not unwell,” Poppy protested even as she pressed her forehead with her fingers. “I merely feel a bit of a headache coming on. It’s been a busy day.”

“Of course you have a headache,” Charlotte said tartly. “Your sister is accused of murdering her husband and you’ve been thrust into the midst of the dowager’s house party and subjected to some of her less than appealing guests. Not to mention I was at my most unfriendly to you earlier.”

Poppy’s expression must have shown her surprise, because the other woman continued. “Oh, I know when I’m being a fright, make no mistake. My only excuse is that I dislike being thwarted, and I had thought I’d be able to convince my brother to marry one of Grandmama’s guests. The fact that he arrived with a fiancée in tow, and one I’d never heard of before, rather took the wind out of my sails. I am not one to apologize, but in this case, I must. Please forgive me for my earlier ill manners.”

Charlotte’s apology spoke well of her character, Poppy thought. But her own conscience pricked at the knowledge she was guilty of perpetrating a fraud on Langham’s sisters. At least Charlotte’s sharp words had come from a place of sincere irritation. Poppy had spent the entirety of their acquaintance lying. It made her feel underhanded and dirty, as if she were no better than her stepfather.

But she had agreed to do this for Langham. “Pray, think nothing of it,” she assured the other woman. “I realize we sprang the news of our betrothal upon you without warning. You must have been unpleasantly surprised.”

“Not least because I was so rude to you before I knew who you were,” Charlotte said with a rueful smile that made her look very like her elder brother.

“She told me everything that was said,” Genia said with a shake of her head. “What a dreadful way to welcome you to the family, Poppy. I am sorry I wasn’t there to smooth things over.”

“Let us put it behind us,” Poppy hastened to say, not wanting to dwell on the unpleasantness. Especially not in light of how betrayed they would feel once they learned the truth about their brother’s betrothal. Just the thought of it made her chest tighten—though a small part of her questioned whether it was the thought of hurting the ladies before her or, more alarming, the notion of never seeing Langham again that was causing her the most pain.

She was saved from dwelling on this dangerous thought any further by Genia’s next words.

“I will not press the subject if it is an uncomfortable one, my dear,” she said gently, “but I am so sorry about the trouble with your own sister. I must admit I’d not heard much about your brother-in-law’s murder beyond the fact that our cousin Ned, that is, Mr. Jarvis, who serves as Langham’s steward, was the one who found his body. Charlotte tells me that your sister has been accused of killing Mr. Lovell? That must be perfectly dreadful for you.”

“Of course it is,” Charlotte said to her sister with an impatient sound. “Especially given, as I understand it, that it’s been some time since Poppy has seen her sister. Isn’t that right, Poppy?”

“It has been just over two years, yes.”

At that moment, one of the housemaids arrived with a heavily laden tea tray, and Poppy was grateful for the distraction. Before she could protest, Charlotte was pouring her a cup of tea and Genia was piling a plate with sandwiches and biscuits for her. Seeing that it would be useless to argue, she took the plate and then the cup and saucer. The tea, at least, was comforting, and perhaps her headache was the result of having eaten so little in the drawing room earlier.

Poppy was biting into a watercress sandwich when Charlotte continued where they’d left off. “Given that you’ve been away from society for such a long time, perhaps we can guide you in determining who at the party you might wish to cultivate as a friend. It would not hurt for you to have a few allies besides Genia and myself as the week progresses. I should say you’ve already endeared yourself to Miss Ingraham if her response to your little proclamation in the drawing room is anything to go by.”

Before Poppy could reply, Genia spoke up, “It might be even more helpful, sister, if we tell her who is most particularly upset at having missed their chance at becoming the next Duchess of Langham. One of the generals Bellwood is always quoting—Sun something or other—said ‘keep your friends close but your enemies closer,’ and I cannot think of a more pertinent sentiment for Poppy just now.”

Charlotte nodded. “A good point. I’d say you’ve definitely made an enemy of Lady Alice Gerson, as well as Miss Beaconfield. But truly, I’ve never cared for either of them. Lady Alice has always been far too puffed up with her own importance, if you ask me.”

“I would have counseled Grandmama against inviting her at all,” Genia said with a nod, “but Gerson and Grandpapa were cronies, so I suppose she felt obliged. Miss Beaconfield was a surprise, however. I thought she had better sense than to be so badly behaved in front of Langham. Though I suppose she believes her father is wealthy enough to make her poor manners irrelevant.”

Poppy looked from one sister to the other and back again, trying to focus on the fact that they were trying to help her rather than on the way all the doubts she’d confessed to Langham came rushing back in the face of their advice.

Her appetite gone, she put the sandwich down and set her cup and saucer on the low table. “If Manners is ready, I should like to get the fittings under way, if that’s all right. That way I can have a gown ready for the morning at least.”

Genia shook her head. “Oh, Manners is a genius with a needle. She’ll have one ready for dinner tonight, if I don’t miss my guess. As well as a few for tomorrow. And of course, we’ll send your measurements to our dressmaker in London—we heard that Grandmama intended to have someone from her own modiste come here and, well…”

“Oh, spit it out, Genia,” said Charlotte impatiently. “What my dear sister means to tell you is that Grandmama’s modiste is as old as Methuselah and has the fashion sense to prove it. We cannot, of course, pop over to Paris to have Worth create a new wardrobe for you, but with the train making things so much faster now, we can have you outfitted for the rest of the week in a day or two.”

Their generosity, and the way they had decided to take her under their wings, was enough to make Poppy’s eyes sting. It was suddenly too much and she had to turn away.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I just need to refresh my face.”

“We have overwhelmed you, Poppy. I do apologize.” She felt Charlotte touch her lightly on the shoulder. “We will go and let you rest before dinner. Unless you’d prefer to have a tray in your room. Whatever you wish, my dear. You have had an exceedingly trying day.”

But cowering away in her room wasn’t Poppy’s way.

Turning back to Langham’s sisters, she said, “Thank you both for your generosity. If Manners is able to complete one of the gowns in time, I shall see you at dinner.”

An hour later, Poppy stood before the floor-length glass in her dressing room and marveled at how much a life could change within the span of a few hours.

While she had meant what she’d said when defending the blue dress she’d been wearing at tea—it was indeed one of her favorites—there was no comparison between it and the sartorial confection she now wore. With a peony-pink silk bodice and underskirt, and overlaid with intricately woven black silk netting, this gown was far and away the most sumptuous item of clothing she’d ever worn.

Unless, that was, one counted the new silk underthings that Manners had brought along with the dinner gown after she’d completed the minor alterations needed for it to fit Poppy.

There had been a time when silk gowns and fine linen petticoats had been the rule rather than the exception in her life, when the absence of such finery would mean true feelings of privation. She felt some shame about the ways in which, despite her disapproval of the way her stepfather brought money into the household, she had nonetheless reaped the rewards from it. The guilt had made it easier for her to adjust to life as Miss Flora Deaver, country vicar’s daughter and working woman, who would never have known the feel of fine fabrics against her skin.

But now, answering once more to Poppy and clothed in a manner that was closer to the way she’d once dressed as a matter of course, she wondered which of these women was the genuine article.

The chiming of the pretty Sevres clock in the bedchamber reminded her that there was no time for woolgathering now. With one last glance in the mirror, she took a deep breath and moved to make her way to the drawing room.

She had promised Langham a fiancée, and a fiancée he would have.