Dukes to the Left of Me, Princes to the Right

night at the village inn. He would leave early the next morning for a meeting in London.

Throughout dinner and their short conversation afterward, Poppy was anxious to tell Aunt Charlotte what had transpired in the garden, and she sensed her aunt was anxious, as well. So when they finally shut the front door behind the earl, Aunt Charlotte didn’t even wait to walk back to the sitting room.

“Do tell,” she said in the cozy entryway.

“He asked me to marry him. Again.”

“My heavens.” Aunt Charlotte bit her lip. “Well, we both already know you don’t love him. If you don’t love him, you won’t marry him, correct?”

“Yes, I know.” Poppy sighed. “According to the Spinsters Club. But I’m not sure about those rules anymore.”

She wandered listlessly back to the sitting room and sank onto a settee.

Aunt Charlotte sat next to her. “Why, dear?”

“Because look where love has gotten me.”

“You love Drummond, don’t you?” Aunt Charlotte’s tone was sober.

Poppy nodded slowly. It hurt to acknowledge the fact.

Aunt Charlotte sighed.

“Drummond is to marry Natasha.” Poppy forced herself to say the words. “And according to the Spinsters Club, I should remain a Spinster because I can’t have the man I love. But all those rules are based upon the idea that true love is the only reason to marry. You yourself told me to stay open to the possibilities.”

And so had Nicholas, Poppy recalled bitterly.

“I did, didn’t I?” Aunt Charlotte said, her bright blue eyes troubled.

Poppy hesitated. “Quite frankly, I don’t know if I can live alone the rest of my life thinking about Drummond. I’d rather stay busy—with a good husband, many children, and a new life. I’d like to start over. Who’s to say I can’t fall in love with Lord Eversly? And even if I can’t, we can become good friends.”

“You’re being very practical,” Aunt Charlotte said. “And I must admit, I’ve found solace in other things, too.” She grasped Poppy’s hand. “But you misread my intentions, dear, about staying open to romantic possibilities. You must believe true happiness is possible with Eversly. You can’t marry him simply to run away. Or to cover your hurt.”

“I’m not sure yet what I’ll do,” said Poppy, squeezing her hand back. “So please be patient with me while I think about it this week.”

“Of course. We’ll have a peaceful few days.”

But the next morning, several village women came to visit.

“The Russian prince was seen on the road to our village,” said the squire’s wife, her cheeks pink with excitement. “Someone said he intercepted your carriage, brought you out of it, and got down on a knee and proposed. And then another man, an earl, came here with a massive bouquet of roses yesterday. You’re a popular young lady.”

“When is the wedding?” said another woman.

“And whom shall you choose?” asked a third. “We heard the awful news about your other fiancé. Drummond. He’s to marry the Russian princess.”

“Yes, he is.” Poppy smiled awkwardly. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but as of now, there is to be no wedding for me.”

The faces of the ladies all registered disappointment.

“Poppy’s still thinking,” said Aunt Charlotte.

“So the earl, too, proposed yesterday?” the squire’s wife asked hopefully.

Poppy sighed. “It’s a private matter, ladies. That’s all I can say.”

“We understand.” The ladies departed with many friendly wishes for a good day. But the rest of the afternoon, other villagers gathered nearby in little clusters and were staring at the house.

At dinner that evening, the squire himself knocked on the door.

“I’m going to stop this right now,” Poppy said, and opened the door, Aunt Charlotte at her side.

“It’s my understanding,” the squire intoned, “that Lady Poppy is to be married to the Russian prince.”

Aunt Charlotte opened her mouth to say something, but Poppy cut her off. “I’m sorry, sir, but your information is incorrect. Lady Charlotte and I are departing in the morning for London.”

And she tried to shut the door.

But the squire stopped it with his hand. “Of course, you’ll have many parties to attend in London before the big event. But do let us know when the nuptial feast will occur. If it’s to be in Town, my wife and I would be honored to represent the village.”

“Thank you,” Poppy answered, and managed to shut the door. “Tomorrow morning,” she said grimly, leaning against it, “we’re leaving this place and going back to London to get some peace.”

“I told you once before, village life is as grueling as Town life, if not more.” Aunt Charlotte chuckled.

But Poppy wasn’t amused. She packed her bags and went to bed that night with much to contemplate. The adventures of Clarissa called, however, and she was dying to forget her own troubles. So she opened the novel and read about Clarissa’s until her candle burned low.

CHAPTER 41

Nicholas wasn’t happy. Every night he dreamed about that wretched scene at Lord Derby’s, where Poppy told him she never wanted to see him again. And every morning he’d wake up and hear in his head the cryptic comment Harry had made at their club:

Lucky you.

Was he really lucky?

Or wasn’t he?

He stared at the small oil painting above his desk—a drawing room scene of him and Frank as boys—and came to a decision. He had nothing to lose.

Absolutely nothing.

His properties and title were in a state of decay, his brother was a wastrel, and Poppy rightfully despised him. The sting of her dismissive slap on his jaw had brought home to him the realization that every good thing in his life had slipped away. He wasn’t sure how he’d come to this point, why he’d neglected to respect the age-old adage that nothing worthwhile comes easily.

But looking into Poppy’s scornful eyes the night they’d ended their betrothal, he’d understood as never before that good things came at a price, a price he’d been unwilling to pay—

Until now.

He couldn’t fix everything, but he could do one thing right.

He was going to work on his relationship with Frank. He’d held his sibling at arm’s length all these years because Frank had gone from being a brother to a burden. Yet it certainly hadn’t been Frank’s fault that Nicholas had been charged by familial duty to nurture him to manhood in the absence of his parents.

Nicholas had chosen not to accept the responsibility gracefully. He’d been standoffish, all the while pretending Frank had been the one driving him away with his rude manners.

It wasn’t true, and Nicholas would have to rectify the situation immediately.

He found Frank in the same cheap hotel. His room was tiny and dim, and the wall was lined with stacks of small, empty kegs. There were a few more now than the last time.

He nudged Frank in the arm, and his brother jerked awake, bleary-eyed, roundly cursing Nicholas.

“You didn’t really drink all these, did you?” Nicholas pointed to the kegs.

“None of your business, you rotter. Go away.” Frank’s waistcoat was stained, and he smelled like he belonged in a barn.

Nicholas hauled him up. “Let’s go. We’ve got some talking to do.”

Frank grumbled, of course, but a few minutes later, Nicholas managed to get him outside. “We’re going on a walk,” he said. “And to get something to eat and drink. But not brandy.”