“But James, isn’t there any way out of this maddening bargain? Can we not pay back the money.”
He stared at her. “The estates are still struggling. We barely have any liquidated funds. I would have to sell the next two smaller estates, this townhouse, all the silverware, paintings, and jewelry pieces, and it still might not be enough to pay back all the monies owed, including Mr. Winters’ portion. It would sink us beyond reproach or repair. I would eventually marry, and I do not believe the chit will grow to be long-toothed. Miss Winters will be as good a countess as any other.”
Daphne stared at him with large somber eyes. “Yes, but will you love her? And would she love you to know she had no choice but to marry you?”
“Those are problems for three years from now,” James said grimly. “Right now…right now I want to see Poppy happy. Will you help me.”
His sister seemed as if she wanted to object, but she held her tongue, smiled wanly and said, “Yes.”
And for James, that was all that mattered now.
Chapter 6
Meanwhile at Upper Wimpole Street...
Poppy made her way to the breakfast room, only to be informed she was needed for a family meeting in the drawing-room. Her stomach made an insistent noise. Poppy hadn’t eaten since last evening. There had been too much nervous excitement at last night's ball to eat anything from the refreshment table. Though her family had departed the ball early, the haunting of James’ kiss had kept her awake well into the early hours of the morning.
She was tempted to hurry to her stepmother, loathing how she was often reprimanded if she did not respond right away to a summons. Poppy went into the breakfast room, took up a plate, placed slices of ham, bacon, three thinly sliced and buttered toast, and some kedgeree onto her plate. She did not savor her food as she normally did but ate with her stepmother’s temper in her thoughts. Poppy drank two cups of tea and then made her way to the drawing-room. A tight knot formed in her belly. Last night the short carriage ride home had been filled with tension. No one had spoken, and Poppy had wisely kept her own counsel. Her stepmother could be wrathful, and it was best to let her stew in the anger she felt at the earl dancing with the wrong daughter.
Poppy entered the drawing-room, noting the stiffness in her stepmother’s posture and the tightness about her mouth. Lavinia and Rebecca sat on the opposite sofa, and surprisingly the young baron was also present.
His boyish and wavy auburn hair was neatly groomed, and he was dressed in a narrow fitted tan trouser and a black Newmarket coat. Complemented with a patterned vest of varying colors from sky blue to royal blue and a neatly tied navy-blue cravat. He was dressed for his day and was usually not about the house at this hour. Yet here he sat in the high wingback chair near the large bay windows looking like he wanted to be anywhere but at this gathering. Still, he stood when she entered and greeted her warmly. His piercing green eyes and the sharp angles of his cheeks softening.
She dipped into a small curtsy. “Lord Hayes, Mother, you asked for me?”
The drawing-room was also overflowing with bouquets and vases of flowers. The overwhelming floral fragrances induced her nose to twitch.
“There are three vases of flowers here for you, Poppy,” her stepmother said, her voice rich with displeasure.
“For me?”
“Yes. And a Sir Howell called to see if you would be agreeable to a walk in the park.”
Poppy glanced around as if she expected to see this Sir Howell pop from behind the sofa. “I…I am astonished. I am not familiar with this gentleman.”
Surely the earl’s plan could not be working so soon.
Rebecca had been facing away from Poppy, but now she whirled around, her eyes brimming with wrathful accusation and rebuke. “How dare you, Poppy?”
“How dare I what?”
“You danced with Lord Kingsley,” her sister screeched.
“I am quite aware of it,” Poppy said unapologetically. “I was there.”
“Do you see nothing objectionable in your conduct?” Her stepmother snapped.
Poppy hated these confrontations when they attacked her for some imagined slight. She swallowed past the tightness that suddenly encircled her throat. Her position was precarious, but she could not allow them to be so willful in casting imagined blame at her feet. “Objectionable? Lord Kingsley asked me to dance. My initial refusal could have caused a scandal, but he was generous enough to ask me again. I accepted. What egregious crime have I committed?”
Rebecca’s face took on a mutinous cast. “Lord Kingsley is mine! You know of it and still agreed to dance with him. All the papers are talking about the mysterious lady the earl danced with after refusing to stand up with any other lady since he inherited the earldom. You…they are calling plain, boring you mysterious!”
Poppy’s chest tightened at the united front of her mother and sister in condemning her for accepting a dance with James. God, if they should know that he had kissed her. The apoplexy from that news would probably send her stepmother to the grave.
“You are spoilt and indulged to the point you are outrageous,” Poppy said quietly. “You have no agreement with the earl to be so angry should he ask me or anyone else in society to dance. Your conduct is objectionable and ill-judged, and you need serious correction.”
Rebecca’s eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed a violet red. “You dare censure me! I—”
“I dare!”
Rebecca flounced over and lifted a hand to deliver a slap to Poppy’s cheek. With a jolt of shock and alarm, Poppy gripped her hand before the blow landed. “I am your older sister, and despite your overindulged and petulant manners, I love you and hope to see you contented. If you are outrageous enough to slap me, I shall return that slap to you, trice.”
She dropped Rebecca’s hand and stepped back. There was an ugly look in her stepmother’s eyes Poppy had never seen before, and a tight band of unknown emotion wrapped its arms around her. “Mother,” Poppy began, “I—”
“You will not dance or speak with Lord Kingsley again,” her stepmother said. “You will make your excuses whenever—”
A knock interrupted her, and the butler entered upon being bid entrance by the uncomfortable-looking baron. A swell of shame rushed through Poppy that he should witness the discord between their family and the wild ambition of her sisters and stepmother that seemed to know no propriety.
“Lord Kingsley and Lady Daphne have called.”
Lavinia gasped, and Rebecca started to pat her hair and smooth down her dress.
“Please admit the earl and Lady Daphne, Mr. Cadbury, and have Mrs. Andrews prepare the finest tea and cakes right away.”
The butler bowed and hurried to do his mistress’s bidding.
“Poppy, I believe you should retire to your room for the duration of the earl’s visit,” her stepmother said with a tight smile.
“I believe the entire family should be present,” the baron said. “Miss Poppy, please be seated.”
Lavinia whirled toward her husband, staring at him as if he were a rotten creature. “Milton, darling—”
“Miss Poppy will stay to meet the earl,” the baron said firmly.