The feel of the cool night air washed over him, and James thought perhaps he should have donned a shirt or at least put on shoes. Even with his stockings on, the grass was prickly under his feet, but he ignored the slight discomfort and strolled in the direction he saw Poppy headed. His hesitation was drowned by a faint giddy anticipation, though he felt he drifted toward his peril lured by his Poppy siren.
He rounded the corner, and there she sat under a large gazebo, such beautiful flowers surrounding it and trellis climbing on the edges. She hummed a song beneath her breath, and the closer he drew to her, he saw what she unpacked from the basket was food.
Within a few feet, James faltered. She wore the coat he had left behind over her white nightgown. Which he could only see, for she had not belted the coat. Her thick, curling hair tumbled down her shoulders to her waist in a shimmering curtain of midnight beauty.
He must have made a sound for her head snapped up, and her eyes widened with delight. That immediate and artless joy in seeing him had his throat drying. James stepped closer.
“An art of reeling in a husband is not to wear your heart and emotions on your sleeves.”
She arched an elegant brow. “This is a decidedly odd and unexpected topic of conversation.”
“It is important not to be obvious with your affection and desires for any gentleman,” he said, walking up the few steps of the gazebo. “Just another lesson.”
Humor sparkled in her eyes. “I see. I shall keep it in mind should gentlemen truly start to flock to my side.”
He sat on the bench farthest from her and lifted his chin to the basket. “A midnight repast?”
“Oh yes, most kind of you to join me.” She dipped into the layered picnic basket and removed a small plate with candied pineapple and a round cake with strawberry preserves topping it. A second plate revealed some sort of tart. “Will you join me?”
“I do not recall these foods at dinner.”
A quick grin in his direction once again had that warmth traveling through his entire body.
“I made these.”
Astonishment lanced him. “You know how to cook?”
“Is that so surprising?”
“A bit. Your father was able to afford a cook and several servants. It is an odd skill for a young lady to acquire.”
She popped a piece of candied pineapple into her mouth and sighed happily. Poppy held out one to him, and he got up and took it from her before returning to his seat. He took a bite, enjoying the tart yet sweet flavor.
“However, did you learn to cook?”
“After papa…after my father passed on, it was most difficult to get the dishes I enjoyed on the menu. All meals were catered to mother, Lavinia, and Rebecca’s tastes. Richard ate whatever was on the table,” she said with a chuckle.
Poppy looked away briefly, and he noted she played with her hair, twining several strands around two of her fingers. A nervous gesture, perhaps.
“I enjoy fish dishes and the varied way they can be prepared. I like sweets and cakes. Mother berated my…generous figure and ordered our cook not to make them. Or if they are made, I am not allowed to have them. It was ill-mannered of me, but after a year of this, I grew frustrated. Our cook took pity on me after finding me in the kitchens trying to make something I enjoyed. It became a ritual where I would wake up exceedingly early and meet her in the kitchen for lessons. It was wonderful, really, and after several weeks, whenever I felt the craving for a particular food, I would make it and have a picnic on the lawn.”
“An evening picnic?”
“The best time to avoid being caught.”
“No one here would dare berate you.”
“I dare not think so,” she said earnestly. “In truth, it has become a habit, and I find a peace…a joy in it. It also feels a bit free and naughty to steal out into the night and sit by myself. When I am the mistress of my own home, I shall do this without any anxiety of being rebuked as improper.”
James liked that her stepmother’s indifference had not stifled Poppy’s rebellious spirit of joy for living. Many would have crumbled under constant criticism and restrictions. He recalled how often Richard had explained that he doted on her most because all the love from his father had been diverted to his new wife and their two precious daughters.
What a damn ridiculous man, James thought a bit viciously.
“You lost your mother at an earlier age,” he said gruffly.
She sent him a considering glance. “I did. I was barely a year old and Richard four years when we lost mama.”
“I am sorry you did not get to know her.”
Poppy smiled softly. “I did in some ways. I have a portrait of her. Mama was so very lovely. She had the kindest smile and eyes I’ve ever seen. Father left it to me. He was a bit…distanced, but whenever I asked him about her, he took the time to tell me such wonderful stories.”
Thank God the man hadn’t been a complete tool.
“To inherit the earldom,” she began tentatively. “You lost your…father?”
James cleared his throat. “My father had already died several years ago. It was my brother. He…he collapsed in his study.”
“It must have been most difficult to bear.”
He grunted softly. “Death is never easy though it is expected. We have both had our share of it. A damn horrible thing to have in common, wouldn’t you say?”
She stared at him with an expression he could not decipher. Poppy stood and made to walk over to him.
“You stay right there,” he ordered. Unless there were others about, he would not get within six feet of the damn woman. Not until he found a solution for his malady.
Surprise at his sharp tone blossomed over her face. “Please explain your command. Is everything well, James?”
His throat was uncomfortably tight. It was disorienting. “Yes. We will converse with this space between us.”
Despite bare light from the lantern and the pale moonlight, awareness flashed in her silver eyes. They were their own spark in the darkness, rare and beautiful. But she knew what he meant, and a tinge of pink colored her cheeks.
“I love the countryside,” she said softly, sinking her hands into the pocket of his greatcoat. “Not only do I sneak from my bed to tinker around in the kitchen and cook. Often, I would go outside on the lawns, run as fast as I can with my hands held wide away from my body and scream.”
“Scream?”
She laughed lightly. “Yes. To release all the frustrations I felt in the day. After a few times of being out here, it became another ritual of peace…or joy, there is a sort of defiant freedom of being outside, fully awake while the rest of the world sleeps.”
He leaned on the back of his bench and crossed his feet at the ankles. Her gaze followed his actions, and she smiled at his stocking-clad feet but made no comment.
“It is well after midnight, closer to two in the morning. Are you never afraid?”
“Of what?”
“An unexpected visitor.”
“Well, we hardly get those in the countryside.” Poppy took her hand out of her pocket and did a very silly action of lifting her hands in the shape of claws and wriggling her fingers. “Or did you mean like a ghost?” she asked in an exaggerated whisper.
She was laughing at him, and unexpectedly James found himself smiling. Her sweet laugh sunk deep inside his bones, filling him with a warmth that banished the chill of the night.