Dukes to the Left of Me, Princes to the Right

Poppy tugged on Nicholas’s sleeve. “We have to give her the dog,” she whispered above Mrs. Travers’s ear- piercing wails.

“No, we can’t,” he said. “Natasha would have a fit.”

And blast that Mrs. Travers for shrieking.

“I know,” Poppy said, “but we’ll get him back in a few days, won’t we?”

Nicholas stared at Boris, who merely panted and rolled his one eye. “He’s diabolical. I can see him running away at the first opportunity.” He turned to Mrs. Travers. “Stop your caterwauling, madam. I’ll put you up in fine quarters here in London if you’ll stay a day or two.”

Her wails ceased abruptly into hiccups and then died away completely, thank God.

“Absolutely not,” she said with firm resolve. “I must get back. My maid, as well. And if you have a decent bone in your body, you’ll let me take that dog. Consider him on loan.”

“Give us but a moment,” Nicholas said to her, then turned to Poppy. “She has a point,” he said low, Boris still panting contentedly in his arms. “None of this is her fault, and she should be allowed to return home rather than stay here. We’ll have to let her take the dog, but he can’t go alone. I’ll go, as well. If Natasha knows a familiar face is with the brute, she’ll be all right. We can’t upset the Russian twins, remember?”

Poppy sighed. “I suppose you’re right. But how can I go? I’ll need a chaperone.”

“You’ll stay here.”

“No. That’s outrageous. We’re … we’re in this together, remember?”

He must admit, her saying so assuaged a portion of his extreme annoyance at the whole situation.

He turned to Mrs. Travers. “Do you know a Lady Caldwell in Surrey?”

The woman put a hand to her breast. “Of course. Lord and Lady Caldwell are one of the finest families in all of Surrey. The altar guild at our church—I’m the presiding officer, you know—was once invited to her home for a delightful tour of her gardens. Their estate is a mere three miles from my village.”

“She’s my godmother and my father’s first cousin,” Nicholas said. “We’ll stay with her, and I promise we’ll return the pendant, in pristine condition, as soon as we’re able. In fact, Lady Caldwell would no doubt welcome you and your maid to stay with us until the pendant is, um, made available to us again.”

The woman blushed. “I appreciate that, young man.” She laid a hand on his arm. “My late husband gave me that bauble. I’m sorry if I was a bit rude. I would dearly love to stay with Lady Caldwell.”

“Then it’s settled,” he said gruffly. “And please don’t apologize. I understand your panic.” While Mrs. Travers’s chins quivered and her maid tried to soothe her, Nicholas turned once more to Poppy. “Your father should have no objections. We’ve come up with a perfectly proper solution.”

“Good.” She grinned. “I was beginning to think we were in well over our heads.”

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “We’ll be much more involved with looking around our feet the next day or two.”

“Thanks to Boris.” Once more she scratched the little criminal behind his ear.

Yes, thanks to the damned dog, Nicholas thought, then adjusted his thinking. Perhaps he should be grateful. He’d been in a rut lately, hadn’t he? Because of Boris, he’d be leaving London with Poppy. Being with her always promised surprises.

And he must face the fact—he was in desperate lust with his fiancée. Surely he could wrangle an opportunity to be alone with her in Surrey, godmother in residence or no.

* * *

Poppy felt rather excited when Nicholas dropped her off at home, along with Mrs. Travers, her maid, and Boris, while he paid a personal visit to Sergei to explain the awkward situation and to send a messenger ahead to Lord and Lady Caldwell to inform them they were coming.

It was amazing how one small dog could create so much fuss—and an opportunity to do something new and different. Yes, Poppy would be with Drummond, but she found herself rather intrigued by the idea of spending more time with him. Not because she had a tendre for the irascible duke but because he forced her to keep her wits sharp.

And perhaps because he was an amazing kisser.

Not that they’d get any opportunities to kiss at Lord and Lady Caldwell’s.

Would they?

She must admit, that possibility was what had her feeling breathless as she ran upstairs to pack a small, serviceable suitcase Kettle had found for her (as her personal luggage had been disposed of, thanks to Papa).

Mrs. Travers and her maid waited patiently in the drawing room, comforted by the presence of Cook, who brought in tea, delicious cakes, and idle gossip to share while Poppy packed. Boris waited in the kitchens, where the staff fed him a bowl of slops in hopes it would “push everything along,” according to Kettle.

As Poppy folded her best night shift, she explained the whole situation to Aunt Charlotte, who promised to explain everything to Lord Derby when he came home from Whitehall.

“Not a problem, dear,” Aunt Charlotte said. “But do remember the Spinster rule to follow when one is a houseguest.”

“What’s that?”

“A Spinster locks her bedchamber door at night.”

Poppy drew in her chin. “That seems rather obvious.”

“Yes,” Aunt Charlotte said, “but that is only half the rule.”

“What’s the other half?”

“A Spinster locks her bedchamber door at night only after she’s finished exploring.”

“Exploring?”

Aunt Charlotte chuckled. “The beauty of being on one’s own is that one may wander about a great house without people always crying, ‘Where in devil’s name are you going?’ ”

“I never thought of that,” said Poppy.

“Freedom, my dear, is the key to adventure. Guard it well. And no matter how big the adventure or how many demands it places on you, never surrender freedom completely. It keeps one young. And interesting. And alive.”

“You’re giving me more than one rule, dear aunt.” Poppy smiled. “I count five at least.”

Aunt Charlotte waved a hand. “Oh, that last bit was something I just made up. But I rather like it. I think I shall add it to the new Spinsters handbook I’m creating. Oh, and don’t forget to carry a heavy candlestick and a sharp pin when you explore.”

“Very well.” Poppy kissed her cheek. “I shall see you in two, no more than three, days.”

When she returned to the drawing room ready to depart, Mrs. Travers was overjoyed to see her and even happier to see Nicholas arrive.

“Here you are, Your Grace.” Kettle immediately placed Boris in his arms.

Poppy noticed that Drummond looked extremely grim.

“Ladies,” he said, “I’ve news. Both the Russian princess and prince will be accompanying us. They insist. It is their belief that Boris requires his mistress to be happy.”

A silence fell over the room, but then Mrs. Travers began clapping.

Poppy’s heart sank. She’d been looking forward to getting out of London for a few days. But now that the Russian twins were coming, she was exhausted already just thinking of all the attention they’d require.

She especially didn’t want any more odd conversations with Sergei. She was rapidly losing hope he had any of the wonderful qualities she’d thought he’d possessed in abundance in St. Petersburg.

“What a delight!” exclaimed Mrs. Travers. “We shall be in even more exalted company. You’re a duke, so I hear, Your Grace, and your fiancée is the daughter of an earl, which is extremely impressive. But to be traveling in the company of a prince and princess, too? Oh, my. I’m almost glad that beast swallowed my pendant.” Her face, which had been lined with smiles, suddenly drooped. “Of course, I will get it back, don’t you think?”

“Without a doubt,” Nicholas assured her, his voice rather tight. “I shall be overseeing Boris myself.”

“Oh, you wonderful man!” Mrs. Travers threw herself at him. “Who ever heard of a duke following after a one-eyed dog to see if he’ll, um, produce a pendant? How could anyone say such bad things about you?”

She covered her mouth with her hand, and her maid turned red.