A week ago, Poppy would never have imagined she’d be so brazen as to kiss the Duke of Langham as if her very life depended on it. But, as Hippocrates said, desperate times called for desperate measures.
Rhodes’s voice had sent alarm coursing through her, but once her lips touched Langham’s, she was so caught up in the maelstrom of sensation his nearness brought that all thoughts of the constable were swept from her mind.
She’d been kissed before, by a dance partner at a local assembly before she left for London, but the experience had been more embarrassing than pleasurable. And she’d never felt the need to repeat it.
Langham, though. His kiss she felt from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. It had never occurred to her that a kiss could be playful, but his teasing strokes, which invited her to answer with her own, gave her a strange lightness in her chest.
He’d just moved to kiss down over her jaw and along the curve of her neck, one hand caressing up from her waist and over her breast when the sound of Rhodes’s surprised “ahem” cut through the fog of her desire.
Langham’s head snapped up, and he took a step back from her, looking all the while like a man awakening from a trance. “We’ll follow you down, Rhodes. If you will, please wait for us outside the entrance. Miss Delamere is feeling a little unwell from the height.”
Poppy, despite feeling a little breathless from the abrupt shift in Langham, was none too pleased at Langham’s subterfuge. “I am not unwell,” she hissed. Far from it, if she were being honest with herself. But she was hardly going to give him the satisfaction of telling him that.
“It gives him a plausible reason to discount what he just saw with his own eyes,” Langham hissed back, with an equally annoyed look. “I’m attempting to preserve your reputation. Once our betrothal is at its end you will need to go about your life without the whisper of scandal.”
The reminder that whatever this was between them was temporary brought Poppy up short. He was right, of course. Their ease with one another had become so familiar that she’d forgotten for the space of a few minutes that they would soon go back to their former lives.
Turning away from him, she set about smoothing her gown and straightening her hat, which felt a little askew.
“Here,” Langham said with ill-concealed impatience, though whether it was for her or himself Poppy could not tell. With a surprisingly impersonal touch, given how familiar he’d been a moment ago with her person, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and straightened the ribbons of her bonnet beneath her chin. “We can’t do anything about your reddened complexion, but at the very least you no longer look as if you’ve just been thoroughly kissed.”
If only it were as easy to remove the evidence of what had just happened from her mind, she thought wryly.
Aloud she said, “That’s something, I suppose.”
Wordlessly, she began the descent toward the ground floor of the chapel.
“I’m sorry you became unwell, Miss Delamere,” Rhodes said as she stepped out of the doorway. “I suppose you have that in common with your sister. Ladies can be sensitive that way. It is nothing to be ashamed of. Especially given your reasons for climbing the bell tower in the first place.”
“Thank you,” she said to the constable through her teeth. “But I’m afraid we’ll need to make haste back down the hill. The duke and I wish to pay a call at Rothwell Grange.”
“I do wonder if it might be better for us to return to the abbey so that you might rest, my angel,” Langham said, coming up beside her and taking her arm with what Poppy considered to be an overly solicitous manner. “I’m sure your sister will understand.”
“In matters such as these, Miss Delamere,” said Rhodes, with an approving look at the duke, “it is best to let yourself be led by those who have your best interest at heart.”
“I should still like to meet with my sister, Mr. Rhodes.” To Langham she turned a look of blind adoration. “There is no need to worry, my pumpkin. I assure you that I am feeling ever so much better now, and as alarming as this situation with my family is, I know I will have you at my side.”
She wasn’t sure if Langham winced at the endearment or her expression, but she was relieved when he finally spoke. “Of course, my dear. If traveling to the grange is what you wish, then we shall make it so.”
When they arrived back to where the horses and curricle awaited them, the constable bowed over Poppy’s hand and gave a bow to Langham. “I am sorry for the circumstances under which we had to meet, Miss Delamere,” he said with a troubled look, “but I wish you both happy. And I do believe that once you accept the fact that your sister is very likely guilty of her husband’s death, you will find some peace.”
And bidding them farewell, he set off down the lane in the direction of Little Kidding.
“What an insufferable man,” Poppy said once she and Langham were seated far too close to one another in the curricle. “As if he could have any notion of what feelings I might have about my sister’s situation. How dare he?”
“He has rather let his role go to his head,” Langham agreed as he steered the horses in the direction of Rothwell Grange. “But given the handkerchief we found, you must admit he may not be as far off the mark as we first believed.”
“I will admit no such thing,” Poppy retorted. “Someone might have placed that handkerchief there to implicate her.” There had to be another explanation for its appearance in the bell tower—an explanation she intended to get from Violet herself.
“But surely if that were the intention, it would have been put somewhere more easily detected,” Langham argued.
“And the pipe?” Poppy demanded. “Surely you are not suggesting she has taken up that foul habit while I’ve been in London? It’s far more likely it was left there by a man. The man who was responsible for Lovell’s murder.”
“That’s possible,” Langham said in an irritatingly reasonable manner. “But it’s also possible the pipe did belong to Lovell, and you aren’t as familiar with the man’s habits as you once were.”
He was right and Poppy knew it, but she was unwilling to give in just yet. In the bell tower, she’d feared for the fraction of second that her sister might be guilty, but back here on the ground she was able to see more clearly that the pipe did more to make her sister look innocent than the handkerchief did to make her seem guilty.
“I want to hear Violet’s side of the story,” she insisted, grateful to see the chimneys of Rothwell Grange rising in the distance. “The only accounts of her whereabouts that night have come from other people. I want to hear the tale from her. I know my sister. If she is responsible for her husband’s death, I will know as soon as I speak to her.”
“You’ve been away from her for two years,” Langham said gently. “It’s possible that you don’t know her as well as you used to. Or that she’s learned how to lie while you were away.”
“She was my only playmate and my dearest confidante when we were girls. I think sometimes I understood her better than myself.” Poppy knew she sounded foolish, but she could not believe that Violet would lie to her. “She will tell me the truth.”
“I hope you are right,” he said grimly. “For your sake, I hope you are right.”
As the curricle drew closer to the entrance of the grange, Poppy felt a frisson of nerves run through her. The last time she’d come here, she’d been convinced of Violet’s innocence. This time she wasn’t so certain.
* * *
Langham handed the reins to a waiting groom, and when he reached to lift Poppy down he could feel the tension radiating from her.
“I’ll be with you,” he said, hoping to reassure her. “I won’t let Short bully you again. And if your sister is in this house, we will see her.”
Langham had no doubt Poppy could have managed on her own, but he was glad to be at her side as they climbed the steps of the grange and made their way to the door.
“Thank you,” she said, slipping her arm through his. “Truly.”
“Do not become maudlin on me, Poppy,” he said bracingly. “We are friends, are we not? Friends help one another.”
By kissing each other senseless in bell towers?
“I suppose so,” she said as Langham rapped none too gently on the door, though she didn’t sound any more convinced than he was.
He was saved from further discussion by the butler opening the door. Langham handed the man his card and said in his most commanding tone, “We are here to see Mrs. Violet Lovell. Take us to her at once.”
Whether it was Langham’s hauteur or the mention of Violet, the butler’s eyes widened with alarm.
“Begging your pardon, Your Grace, Miss Delamere, I’m afraid I’ve been instructed that Mrs. Lovell is to have no visitors. I will let Lord Short know that you are here, Your Grace—”
“Violet is my sister, and I insist on seeing her at once,” Poppy interrupted the butler, who seemed ready to collapse at having to deny them. “I do not require permission from Lord Short.”
Langham had already followed Poppy into the entryway when he saw Lady Short approaching. She looked haggard. Clearly the hours since their visit yesterday had not been restful ones.
“Please do not make a scene, Poppy,” Lady Short hissed, as if she didn’t wish to be overheard. “It will not make your father any more inclined to let you see Violet, and he will likely take out his anger on us once you are gone.”
Beside him, he heard Poppy give a sharp intake of breath.
“Lady Short,” Langham said, as Poppy rushed forward to take her mother’s hand, “if you are in fear for either your or your daughter’s safety, then you both must come with us to Langham Abbey. I can ensure that you both will be safe there.”
At his words, Poppy shot him a look of gratitude.
“Let us fetch Violet, and we will remove you both from this house before he returns,” she implored her mother.
But they’d barely got past the entry hall before Lord Short himself appeared at the top of the stairs, his eyes cold with fury. “I would not have thought you would be so foolish as to attempt to come between a man and his wife, Langham. There are laws about such things after all. My wife will be back with me before you reach the end of the drive. I’ve got friends who will see to it.”
“We’ll see about that,” Langham said levelly, making a note to look into these so-called friends who Lord Short was so certain would support him.
“As for your sister,” Short said to Poppy as he reached the base of the stairs, “she is not here.” There was something about the smug way he uttered the words that sent a chill through Langham.
“What do you mean, she’s not here?” Poppy demanded, and Langham saw that though she hadn’t relaxed her spine, her stepfather’s words had alarmed her as well. “I don’t believe for a moment that you allowed her to leave this house on her own.”
“Believe what you want,” Short said with a shrug. “I assure you Violet is not here. Tell them, my dear.” He put his arm around his wife’s waist then, and his message was clear: Poppy would find no allies here.
Lady Short flinched at her husband’s touch, then said in a quavering voice, “He speaks the truth, Poppy. Violet has gone.”
