He bowed and held out his hand. “I have it on the highest authority a waltz will now be played. Will you do me the honor, Miss Ashton?”
Once again, she felt the eyes of assembled guests upon them. Poppy laid her hand in his and allowed him to take her onto the dance floor. She peered up at him as they took their positions with the rest of the dancers. Just being held in his arms was sinfully delicious.
“I did not think you would come. Daphne said you sent a message apologizing for your inability to attend for you would be buried in your study, working.”
“Some investment returns,” he returned mildly, placing his hand by her elbow.
“You do that a lot.”
At his quizzical glance, she clarified. “Many times, your absence is apologized away due to you having to work. Why?”
His eyes darkened, and for a moment, she thought he would not answer. “Several of my estates are still in the red.”
Poppy stared at him in shock. “In the red…in debt?”
“Yes. They have been for several years. Before my father died.”
“Oh, James, how could you have offered me a dowry when—”
“Poppy, your dowry is just a penny. Do not worry about it.”
A penny? Ten thousand pounds was just a penny? She glared at him. The chords of the waltz were struck, and the beautiful notes danced in the air. Poppy found her hand trembling and tried to still it.
“Are you afraid you are still not good at dancing?”
It was the idea of being in his arms, of feeling the weight of his hand on her waist. Just being this close had a terrible effect on her senses. “If I had any such apprehension, I would have most firmly rejected your offer to dance,” she said with disarming candor. “I shall do my best not to step on your toes.”
James smiled, and then he swept her away in the beautiful and intricate dance. They soared and twirled together for several minutes, lost in the beauty of the music and being in each other’s arms.
“Many gentlemen are looking at you with longing,” James said, an odd tightness about his mouth. “I declare our campaign a success. Once I release you, they will flock to your side, and you will have your pick of them. Dance away for the night until your feet tire.”
“And what will you do?”
“Return home to my investment report.”
“You only came to dance with me?”
“Yes.”
“To place the finishing touches on your master plan or because you had to come?”
“I came because I wanted to dance with you. It is only a perfect coincidence it is the icing needed for our plans,” he responded with perfect gravity.
His lack of charming flirtation told Poppy he did not enjoy the reason he came. James did not like wanting her.
After coming back to him in a twirl, she asked, “Why must you wait three years to marry?”
His head snapped back before his expression smoothed. “Because I made an oath to do so.”
“You made an oath not to marry until three years?”
“Yes.”
“And you must honor this promise?”
“Yes.”
His tone was implacable.
“What if…” A lump grew in her throat, and she stared up at him, unable to finish her thoughts as he glided her in several intricate steps.
“What if what, Poppy?”
“What if you should fall in love before the three years?”
Poppy never imagined eyes could burn with such passion.
“It is unlikely I will ever fall in love,” he finally said, his eyes dark with unfathomable emotions. “I cannot afford such sentiments, nor do I hunger for them.”
A piercing anguish she had never felt before ripped throughout her entire body. It was all one-sided. She struggled for equanimity, grateful she had not done anything as silly as told him of her feelings.
The dance ended, and he bowed to her. “I must take my leave, and I wish you every success going forward.”
“James,” she breathed softly, hating how her heart beat. “Why does that sound like a goodbye?”
A soft smile touched his mouth before he turned away and melted through the crush. The rest of the night passed in a blur of dancing and laughing, but Poppy was painfully aware that none of it touched her real heart.
“There is a gentleman here to call upon you, Miss Poppy,” the butler said, frightening a decade from Poppy’s life.
With as much dignity one could muster, she straightened from the keyhole of the door. She had received a letter from her stepmother this morning requesting Poppy to call at Lavinia’s home. Upon arrival, she had been shown to the drawing-room, which held dozens of bouquets of flowers. All delivered for her. Her stepmother had affected a pleasant countenance and had seemed pleased for Poppy. So had Lavinia. Poppy had then realized they wanted her to marry and off their hands, or better away from the Earl of Kingsley.
They were so transparent in their plotting she had rolled her eyes. For the first time in years, Poppy believed their words and actions had lost the power to wound her. Still, it would not do for Lavinia’s butler to report to his mistress that he had caught her sister eavesdropping.
“There is an explanation for my behavior which might seem rather odd and improper to you.”
He cleared his throat. “I am owed no explanation, Miss Poppy, but I do understand you were eavesdropping.”
She grinned up at him sheepishly. “It is that weird man, Mr. Gilford. He danced with me twice last night but barely conversed with me. Then he showed up here today with the demand to speak with the baron about grave matters that concern our future together. The sheer nerve of the man.”
Humor lit in the butler’s eyes. “And did you find out anything pertinent, Miss Poppy?”
She lifted a finger and wagged it. “He wishes to marry me. I cannot conceive that he would ask Lord Hayes about that matter since I would be joined with him until death parts us. Clearly, my opinion does not matter. Who would marry such a man?”
The butler looked nonplussed and offered no reply.
Poppy cleared her throat. “You said there was another gentleman?”
“Yes, one Lord Fairfax.”
Poppy’s heart jolted. “Viscount Fairfax?”
“Yes.”
“And he asked to call upon me and not Miss Rebecca?”
“Yes.”
Oh! “Has my stepmother received him?”
“Mrs. Ashford and Lady Hayes have not yet returned from their outing, Miss Poppy.”
Poppy took a steady breath and made her way to the smaller parlor where the handsome and quite charming viscount waited. His hands were perfectly clasped behind his back, his broad shoulders relaxed as he stood by the windows staring at some birds perched on a small shrub.
He turned at her entrance, and Poppy was taken aback by the smile that lit his face upon seeing her. She had only danced with him…once or twice…no, it was precisely three times. With another painful jolt of her heart, she realized the viscount has asked her to dance at almost every ball they encountered each other since her return to town.
Good heavens, has he been courting me?
It astonished Poppy that she had never considered it before. She had simply thought him pleasant, and quite good-natured, and a most charming conversationalist.