“James, everything went smooth as clockwork, thanks to your excellent organization and staff,” Daphne said, removing her bonnet.
“We have some business matters to attend to,” James said. “I will be in the study awaiting you.”
“I will just show Poppy to her room, and I will be back down to talk to you, brother.”
Poppy wondered what her stepmother would think about her being welcomed into society under Lady Daphne’s and the countess’s aegis. It would not reflect well on her stepmother’s treatment of her if Poppy were brought out by an unrelated family. Still, she was not going to complain because she had been happier in Lady Daphne’s and James’s company than she had been since Richard’s death.
Poppy realized that she could not completely avoid her stepmother and half-sisters but feared that it would not be a pleasant experience, especially if they saw that she was well-received by society. While in the country, she had been able to push their contempt from her mind, but now she recalled their disagreeableness to her.
With an internal sigh, she followed Lady Daphne upstairs and was shown into a pretty room decorated in lilac with the soft furnishing in deep purple and gold. A fire had already been lit as the weather was surprisingly chilly for late spring. A young maid bobbed a curtsy and took her bandbox, which Poppy had brought with her. Footmen followed, carrying up her luggage. She had only taken one case with her to the country, but another case with the earl’s coat of arms had been borrowed to transport her new wardrobe.
Poppy could not imagine how she would ever repay their great kindness.
“Poppy, this is Amy, who has been asked to act as your maid for your stay with us in town,” Lady Daphne informed her, kissing her cheek. “If you could get freshened up and changed, we have lots to do. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
Daphne floated off while Amy hurried to bring hot water and prepare her new mistress. Half an hour later, Amy was laying out a charming evening dress in a pale blue. The gown was in watered silk with faint stripes in the weave. The skirt was plain but very gathered, the bodice ornamented with the silk piped in three lines from the dropped shoulders to the front point of the waist. The short sleeves were puffed and ended in three ruffles of a slightly darker blue lace, and the same lace edged the neckline. Poppy marveled at the material which would reflect the light as it moved with the wearer.
Poppy touched the elegant garment. “Amy, where is this dress from? It is not one of mine…”
“Her Ladyship ordered it with the other gowns in your wardrobe. Such pretty gowns, you are so very lucky, Miss. I will unpack and press your other gowns once I have got you ready, Miss.”
And there were even more new gowns, shoes, and assorted unmentionable awaiting her here. No doubt James’s doing. Poppy allowed Amy to help her into the gown and to arrange her hair.
“It is so easy to curl your hair, Miss, you have such beautiful hair, so few ladies have real natural curls,” Amy gushed. “I do not even need to use hair pads to make the new styles.”
Poppy stared at herself in the cheval mirror, quite surprised at how pretty she appeared. Her hair had been caught up in an elegant chignon with several artful tendrils about her forehead. “Thank you, Amy. You have done a beautiful job with it. I suppose I should go down. It is early for dinner, but Lady Daphne suggested we had things to do. Do you know where I could find her?”
“I believe Lady Daphne is in the baroque drawing-room; it is the second door on the left at the bottom of the stairs, Miss.”
Poppy descended and found the correct door. She knocked and was bid to enter.
Daphne and James were already present and consuming a glass of sherry and some fancy cakes, which had been arranged on a small table.
“Come in, Poppy. James and I have been discussing which of these invitations we should accept. I think that Lady Sanders’s musicale might be the right event for us to attend first,” Daphne said, smiling widely.
“I don’t know any of these people, my lady,” Poppy said, glancing at the pile of invitations. “I will be happy to attend anything you think might be suitable, Lady Daphne.”
Surprised eyes met hers. “Why so formal, Poppy? We are not in company. Would you like a glass of sherry and some of these cakes? Our cook has some fancy notions which mama and I tolerate, but his confectionary skills are superior.”
Daphne poured her a glass and handed her a plate with a selection of cakes. Poppy’s mouth watered with anticipation. It looked like this particular cook would be someone she could happily emulate. The pastel-colored macaroons were delicious, and the confections made with coconut and flavored with rum were the best she had ever tasted.
“Daphne, I received many invitations while you and Poppy were in the country. I have only accepted the Childers’ ball so far, but I thought you might be able to select which ones would be best for Miss Poppy to attend,” James said, handing over another sheaf of invitations. “We want the ones where respectable and notable gentlemen who are considering marriage will attend.”
Poppy smiled at his encouraging wink, but there was a heavy ache inside her belly. It was also an entirely unpleasant sensation, only the sweet flutters when he smiled at her. She had developed such complex feelings for James, Poppy did not feel there was room inside her heart for someone else at the moment. However, all of this he was doing was for her to find a suitor, marry, and live a happy life.
How could she disappoint all of his expectations and Daphne’s effort? More urgently, how did she stop herself from falling hopelessly in love with James?
Chapter 11
Over the next few days, Poppy was kept busy. There was shopping, and more shopping, visits to the museums, something she had always hoped to be allowed, but her stepmother had despised such activities. Then there was a trip to the theatre where she saw the melodrama Old Heads and Young Hearts, written and starring the famed Irish actor and playwright Dion Boucicault.
Daphne informed her that his real given name was Dionysius Lardner "Dion" Boucicault which Poppy thought amusing and could understand why he had shortened his first name. Many callers visited and amiably conversed with her and Daphne, and so far, Poppy had managed to avoid catching sight of her stepmother or her sisters. That was a relief to Poppy as the many people to whom she had been introduced had all welcomed her and issued further invitations in the hopes that she would appear at their events.
Tonight was to be the night of Lady Sanders’ musicale. Poppy was nervous, but at least she knew her skills on the pianoforte were more than adequate. It was not performing that she was concerned about. Daphne had told Poppy that her stepmother and sisters had also been invited and had indicated they would attend.
Poppy anticipated the cutting remarks her family might make, especially if James attended and paid her any attention. Which according to his plan to make her appear eligible, his attention was a necessity. If her stepmother had her cap still set for James as her son-in-law, the entire night might get ugly. With a silent groan, Poppy dismissed such worries.
Amy had laid out a new gown in bronze crepe, which was decorated with tiny cream silk roses. A spray of cream roses had been specially created to pin into Poppy’s luxuriant black hair. A beautiful cream silk shawl embroidered in bronze and gold had been purchased to compliment the gown.