Dukes to the Left of Me, Princes to the Right (34 page)

“Open up!” a masculine voice cried.

Poppy sat up straighter. It sounded vaguely like Nicholas. But not like the Nicholas she’d come to know. This voice sounded rude. Obnoxious.

There was a small ruckus in the hall—Kettle’s voice could be heard murmuring a hasty greeting—and a few seconds later, Nicholas pushed past the butler before he could announce him and strode into the room.

He looked wilder than she’d ever seen him.

“Why, it’s Lady Poppy Smith-Barnes and her noble father,” he said, his thumbs in the top of his breeches. “As well as her very good Russian friends.”

He bowed and sent a defiant smirk around the company. Then he pulled a flask out of his pocket and took a long draught.

Poppy was mortified. And confused.
Very
confused.

Lord Derby put up his quizzing glass. “Is that
you,
Drummond? In your cups?”

Sergei stood. “Perhaps you should come back another time, Drummond,” he said testily.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Nicholas arched a rude brow at him. “I suggest you sit and be quiet. Or leave. Both you and your sister. We’ve had enough of your ridiculous spats, haven’t we?”

Poppy jumped up. “What is
wrong
with you, Drummond?”

She threw him a desperate look.
Don’t you remember you’re supposed to keep our Russian friends happy?

They could leave the country with their uncle’s painting.

He
must
remember.

But Nicholas didn’t seem to comprehend her meaning. He merely stared at her beneath lowered brows, his gray eyes stormier than she’d ever seen them.

“Yes, Drummond.” Lord Derby stood in a huff. “You don’t speak that way in my house to my guests. Now behave yourself, or leave.”

Natasha put her nose in the air. “I completely agree with Lord Derby. That’s no way to speak to—”

Sergei put a hand on her arm in a signal that she be quiet. Natasha scowled, but she did, thankfully, shut her mouth.

“We will stay.” Sergei’s whole manner was stiff when he sat back down. “But you must not forget—I am a Russian prince.”

“And
I
am a princess,” said Natasha, her chin in the air.

For goodness’ sake, Poppy thought. How many times were they going to remind everyone?

“I am master of this household,” Lord Derby said, “and I expect decorum on all sides.” He tossed a quelling glance at all their visitors, none of whom seemed intimidated in the least, especially Drummond, who leaned arrogantly against the pianoforte without permission.

Sergei began again. “I was about to inform Lady Poppy and her esteemed father that—”

“
I’ll
tell them,” Nicholas interrupted, and scratched his jaw rudely in front of the company. “Brace yourselves. You and all of London, actually. The princess and I are to marry.”

CHAPTER 38

A strong sensation of shock and fury coursed through Poppy’s frame even though she’d insisted from the very first time she’d met the duke that she wouldn’t marry him. In fact, she’d planned to end the betrothal in less than a week. Nevertheless, in the eyes of the world, they were betrothed, and from the looks of it, she’d just been royally cast off.

“What could you possibly mean, Drummond?” she demanded. “
We’re
engaged.”

“Yes, what’s this about, Your Grace?” Lord Derby, his face reddening, was on his feet again.

“I regret to inform you my first obligation is to the princess,” the duke said coolly. “She’s with child, and her guardian, Lord Howell, has made the claim”—he took another swig from his flask—“that I am the father.”

“You
are
the father, and you will pay.” Sergei jumped up again, his eyes flashing fire.

Poppy’s heart fell to her feet.

Lord Derby’s face was like granite. “I’d call you out, Drummond, if I thought I could kill you.” Poppy had never heard him so menacing.

“Don’t, Papa.” She put a hand on his arm.
“Please.”

He took her hand and squeezed it. “I won’t, daughter. But it’s only because I know what he can do with a pistol. I don’t want you an orphan so young.”

Poppy’s thoughts were jumbled, and she felt hot and cold at the same time. She wished she could faint, but apparently she was too stoic to faint.

She’d been a fool. A complete and utter fool. But she wouldn’t dare show the world she was—

Brokenhearted.

Oh, God
.

Was she really? Was this what a broken heart felt like? She’d trusted Nicholas with her body and allowed him to see into her soul and—

Become friends with him.
More
than friends.

She released Papa’s hand, stood, walked to the pianoforte, and slapped the Duke of Drummond across the cheek.

“Ouch,” he muttered, rubbing his jaw.

“I despise you, Nicholas Staunton,” she said between gritted teeth. “And I never want to see you again.”

Natasha said nothing, but Poppy saw her eyes light with amusement.

Nicholas shrugged and looked around the company. “What’s done is done.” He returned his gaze to Poppy. “I’ll go now. It’s obvious you’re not terribly …
thrilled
to have me here.”

She felt a stillness inside. For a split second, the veil lifted from his gaze. It became clear. Steady. She imagined she could see the old Nicholas. The true Nicholas. The one she’d come to care for.

“Demmed right we’re not thrilled!” Lord Derby pointed to the door. “Out with you, Drummond. I believe everyone should go, as a matter of fact.” He looked pointedly at Natasha and Sergei.

Natasha threw a smug look at Poppy, then went to Nicholas and tried to cling to his arm. But he dodged the maneuver by pushing off the pianoforte and taking another swig from his flask.

“Come, sister,” Sergei said. “And you, Drummond, if you know what’s good for you.”

Poppy blinked back tears. But before anyone could leave ahead of her, she turned on her heel and marched out.

Departing the drawing room before her uninvited guests seemed a paltry statement to make.

Tomorrow morning, she would leave Town instead.

CHAPTER 39

Nicholas sent word round to his three best friends, Lord Harry Traemore, Captain Arrow, and Viscount Lumley, to meet him at their club.

“So there’s no hope for you and Lady Poppy?” asked Captain Arrow, who was in Town for a fortnight’s shore leave.

“How could there be?” Nicholas shrugged. “She certainly doesn’t want me anymore. I’m a scoundrel.”

No one disagreed, he noticed.

But Lumley patted his back. “I’d hope for the best, old boy. Perhaps this Russian princess will be just as suited for you as Molly is for Harry. Even if she drugged you.”

“And claims you seduced her,” added Arrow.

“And has too many dogs,” muttered Harry.

Nicholas looked miserably into his tumbler of brandy. “I certainly was no angel.” He drained his glass and stared at his friends. “But she’s not, either. I don’t believe for a minute I fathered her child. I don’t believe there even
is
a child. She’s mad. And for some reason, she’s chosen me to be her favored suitor. I think it was because I was kind to her dogs. I told her they could become ill from whatever substance she used to drug me.”

“Well, we should make you her
un
favorite suitor,” said Lumley with a twinkle in his eye. “I’ve loads of practice with that.”

“Good point.” Arrow chuckled. “Although why a handsome devil like you has trouble with women, I’ve no idea, Lumley. What should Nicholas do to have her call it off? Because telling a woman you have another love interest sometimes only makes her dig her claws in harder.”

“You should know,” said Harry, “with your women in every port.”

Arrow threw him a dirty look. “I’d claim you were jealous, but I can’t, can I? You’re happy as a clam with your Molly.”

“You know it,” said Harry, with a wink and a smile.

“Right.” Lumley sat up. “Here’s what you should do, Drummond. Be attentive. Kind. Bring the princess flowers. Tell her you worship the ground she walks on. And then—”

“I need something that works fast. That’s guaranteed.”

“Oh, in that case”—Lumley nodded and pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket—“just show her this.” He handed the sheet to Nicholas and told him what to say.

Nicholas felt a glimmer of hope. “Thanks.” He tucked the paper in his coat. “Leave it to the Impossible Bachelors to help get me out of this mess. I hope it works.”

“It’ll work, old boy,” Lumley assured him.

“After you rid yourself of Natasha, what will you do about Lady Poppy?” asked Arrow.

Nicholas shrugged. “Nothing. She told me she never wants to see me again.”

He couldn’t tell them about the portrait, about how his job required he choose duty over all else. And that Poppy would never forgive him for letting her mother’s portrait be destroyed.

“You don’t love her?” Lumley asked. “She’s a gorgeous thing, and I’m tempted to pursue her if you won’t. She seems the type who’d appreciate a decent fellow like me.”

“Yes, she would,” Nicholas said miserably, then cast Lumley a dark look. “But don’t even think about it.”

Arrow chuckled. “Oh-ho, so you have feelings for her, after all? I assumed you were succumbing to the parson’s mousetrap for money. It’s the only good reason I can think of for any fellow with a brain to get married.” He angled a grin Harry’s way. “Pardon me, Harry. You’re the exception, of course. We know you’re whip-smart and married Molly for love.”

Harry chuckled. “Someday you’ll smarten up, too, lads, never fear. I only hope it’s not too late for Nicholas. One has to fight for the right woman. Not sit about being soft and letting wily Russian princesses take over.”

He directed a careless grin Nicholas’s way, but his gaze was serious.

Nicholas felt the barb.

“I don’t
have
a right woman,” he said testily. “And I certainly don’t plan to wed Natasha. I intend to stay a bachelor as long as I can.”

How long would that be?

Marriage was a requirement of his job at the Service. And Prinny might soon be breathing down his neck again to make him participate in another Impossible Bachelors wager.

Soon he’d have to find a milk-and-water miss to marry. A boring girl with a bland expression and nothing but duty in her expression when they’d make love in their marital bed.

Duty.

When someone applied the concept to life with
him,
he certainly didn’t like it.

He didn’t want duty in a marriage. He wanted fun. And spontaneity.

He wanted Poppy.

But it was too late.

He took a large swallow of brandy. The burning sensation in his stomach masked the emptiness he felt inside.

“So you’ll stay a bachelor as long as you can, eh?” Harry appraised him sharply. “Lucky you.”

There was a pause, a brief awkwardness in the air, then Arrow laughed. So did Lumley.

Nicholas decided to take Harry’s remark at face value. “Yes, lucky me,” he said, and everyone—even Harry, the only legshackled man among them—raised their snifters in a toast to his future.

CHAPTER 40

Poppy knew she’d fallen in love with Nicholas. She just didn’t know how much until she’d left London immediately the morning after their broken engagement, kissing her distressed father good-bye and journeying forth only with her maid and a manservant, for the countryside of Kent, where Aunt Charlotte already waited.

There’d be nothing to
do
in Kent, Poppy mused as she passed by miles of pasture and small villages. Nothing to do but read and do needlepoint and have tea with the vicar’s wife.

She hoped that would be a good thing. She longed to put the embarrassment of her broken engagement behind her, as well as the humiliating scene in front of Sergei and Natasha.

But unfortunately, with only a quiet maid and somber manservant to keep her company, her thoughts went constantly back to her time in London, to all the wonderful moments she’d had with Nicholas. And she realized in an appalling moment of clarity—

She realized it would be no small task getting over the wicked Duke of Drummond.

Emphasis on
wicked
.

She’d known because of the way her body had reacted when they’d locked eyes at his
thrilled
comment and they’d had a flash of connection—despite everything that had gone wrong.

Much had, of course. He’d had an intimate history with the princess, one that Poppy had known nothing about. He’d fathered her baby.

But there was nothing Poppy could do but put the scoundrel behind her and move on, more a Spinster than ever before … because now she had a broken heart.