A chuff sounded from James. “Of course, I will. I think I quite made out gentlemen to appear like ravaging beasts who cannot control their baser impulses. But I assure you I overstated the matter. Though you are a delightful temptation, I am in control of my passions. Many gentlemen are.”
Her eyes lit up with pleasure. “A delightful temptation, I like the sound of that.”
What a teasing minx.
“Now, James, does this mean you’ll teach me about all the types of kisses and whatnot?”
James smiled, and acting on the impulse driving him, dipped his head slightly and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Then he replied, “No.” James turned around and walked away, shaking his head at the laughter coming from her.
The little minx enjoyed that she had tied him in knots. He imagined that she would be pleased after believing herself an ugly duckling for so long. James’s inability to control his passions around her titillated her ego. The woman in her was fascinated. And he couldn’t begrudge her, even if he wished he were not so obviously, desperately attracted.
“Good night, Poppy.”
“Good night to you too, James,” she replied directly behind him.
If he were a lesser man, James would have jerked and betrayed his startlement. With a grunt, he paused, allowing her to come to his side.
“I will be leaving in the morning.”
He felt the touch of her eyes on his face as they searched his expression.
“I will miss you,” she said softly. “You are a very good friend.”
He made no reply, but his heart started a fierce pounding. I will miss you too. They walked back to the house in companionable silence, with James thinking he had never had a more wonderful encounter.
Over the following days, Poppy had regular dancing lessons, enjoyed pleasant walks around the grounds with Daphne as the weather stayed fine and then spent hours at her music practice. Usually, the others drifted in to listen and enthuse over her playing. But today she was summoned to the small parlor. Upon entering she encountered Daphne and a woman of indeterminate years.
“Poppy, dearest, this is Mrs. Pearson, who is my modiste. You need a riding habit before you can start riding lessons, so she will take your measurements. I think as your feet are so small that a pair of my mother’s old riding boots will fit you for now, and we can have new ones made when we return to town.”
Poppy curtsied and smiled her greeting at Mrs. Pearson before turning toward Daphne. “A new habit,” Poppy said, wrinkling her nose. “I very much doubt I will be doing much riding when we return to town.”
“I believe you will,” Daphne said encouragingly. “My brother is very smart and mostly always correct. Gentlemen will flock to your side upon returning to town.”
Poppy grinned. “I shall like to see that. James had promised to return here to accompany me on a few of my riding lessons. Do you believe he will return soon?”
Daphne sent her a considering glance, and Poppy fought the blush rising in her cheeks. Drat. Perhaps she tried to sound too nonchalant.
“My brother did not inform me when he will return. I do hope it is soon. Things are much livelier when he is here.”
Poppy made a soft, noncommittal reply. “I am not at all certain riding habits are necessary. At least new ones.”
Daphne pursed her lips. “Our body shapes are so different that my habits would take considerable altering. So, it seemed more sensible to have one made up for you.”
“Thank you, that is so very kind of you.” Poppy smiled, then turned to face the modiste. Mrs. Pearson was an elegant well-corseted lady with immaculately coiffured hair and dressed in an elegant black gown trimmed with white lace. The overall impression Poppy first had of her was of stern precision. An impression that was soon proved incorrect as that lady chatted amiably about society scandals, her beloved children, and the latest fashion modes with her.
She did not ask about Poppy’s preferences for color or styles, but rather stated what colors would complement Poppy’s complexion, hair, and eyes. And Poppy was happy to leave such decisions to her.
Three days later, Poppy headed up to her chamber to change before going for another walk with Daphne. As Poppy entered, she noticed laid out upon her bed was a cherry red riding habit with golden frogging and tiny buttons. Daphne’s maid entered and curtsied, “Please, Miss, I was instructed to get you changed into your habit for your riding lesson.”
Poppy eagerly changed into the exquisite riding habit and allowed the maid to arrange her thick raven tresses high upon her head. Finally, the maid fixed an artful piece of millinery magic with sweeping red feathers draped coquettishly atop her luxuriant curls. Poppy was bubbling with excitement as she tripped down the stairs to race to the stables.
“Fernley,” she cried, calling out to the head groom of his lordship’s stud farm, “I have come for my lesson.”
Fernley appeared leading out an exquisite black mare supplied with a side-saddle of the best Spanish leather.
“Oh, she is so pretty,” Poppy exclaimed as she stroked the mare’s mane.
“His lordship chose her specially for you, Miss Ashford. She is a gentle lady, for all her high bred airs,” Fernley said, obviously proud of his charge.
Poppy stiffened. “His Lordship?”
“Yes.”
Her heart started to drum a fierce beat, and flutters went off low in her stomach. “His Lordship is here?”
Before Fernley answered, another groom appeared, with a white-faced bay stallion on a leading rein. Poppy moved over to admire the fine stallion. Fernley sneaked her a carrot for the horse.
“He is stunning,” she breathed. “And powerful.”
“His name is Gallant,” Fernley said as the horse whuffled the carrot from her extended palm. “He is His Lordship’s horse.”
Another spark went off in her heart, and she glanced around.
“Don’t spoil him too much, Miss Ashford. He is a greedy brute,” James drawled, walking over to scratch between the stallion’s ears fondly, negating his stern words as he affectionately caressed his horse.
Poppy hardly knew how to keep her countenance. She slowed the rapid shallows of her breathing before she looked up at him. James was dressed in a deep, midnight blue jacket, with tan riding trousers and well-polished Hessians. How handsome you are. And for the first time, she was glad for the prettiness of her red habit, which shamelessly flattered her curvaceous figure.
To reveal the pleasure she felt at seeing him was just not done. Yet there was a gleam in his indigo eyes which bespoke a similar delight in seeing her. The smile bloomed on her mouth, and she dipped in a quick curtsy. “My Lord, it is…good to see you.”
“It is wonderful to see you as well, Miss Ashford.”
How polite he sounded, yet his eyes as they skipped over her were hungry. The awareness of his sent a surge of shock through her entire body. His lashes lowered, and when his gaze lifted to hers, only polite civility stared back at Poppy.
Still, warmth fissure inside and spread throughout her body. Her lessons started, and he was most instructional, his knowledge even greater than Fernley’s. Soon Poppy was helped to the mounting block, seated sidesaddle on the horse and was gently trotting. At first, it felt like she was a great many miles from the ground, and she would surely fall on her face and break her neck. However, after several minutes, Poppy relaxed, and the horse seemed to sense the lessening of her tension. They seemed to move as one, and she lifted her face to the rays of the sun and inhaled the crisp morning air into her lungs.