Chapter 13

13

T he small village was alive after dark, which Poppy found fascinating.

Oil streetlamps crackled and flickered, not yet replaced with gas as they had been in London and Edinburgh. Seeing those flames lick behind the glass gave the village a vintage and cozy feel that Poppy hadn't realized she liked until now.

By the time they'd reached the outskirts of the village, a line of horses and carriages slowed the pace as guest after guest arrived at the dance hall on the other side of town. Perhaps the entire county was coming tonight. And perhaps they'd make a few friends.

Poppy loved her sister, but one thing she'd found since they'd come to Skerray was that she was often lonely. Her friends had yet to visit, and she couldn't blame them. It was the height of the season, and what reasonable lass of marriageable age would abandon the prospects of a proposal to visit a displaced friend?

The closer they drew to the dance hall, the louder the music and laughter filtered through the air. Poppy smiled at Anise, who'd grasped her hand and practically bounced on her rear in her eagerness to get inside for all the fun.

More so than meeting friends, Poppy hoped for the distraction of a new flirtation, though this time, she wouldn't allow herself to fall as hard as she had for Dougal Mackay. And she certainly wouldn't let anyone kiss her until the ink was dry on the paper. She couldn't let her heart be broken again.

Then again, she did need to remind herself that this time around, it was not about love. Or desire. Nay, this husband hunt was about security.

All she needed was a little bit of interest from a decent man. Someone she could respect and vice versa. A marriage deal. A contract. She needed to wipe all notions of love or anything fanciful from her mind. Get the deed done, Poppy, so Mama and Anise can relax.

Save her mother and sister. That was her mission.

They alighted from their carriage and entered the low-lit hall; it was warm with all the bodies crushed together. Scents of candle wax, punch, sweat, and…was that livestock? There was a lingering flower scent from the copious bouquets, perhaps to offset the country smell of—she couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it reminded her of a barn.

"Elizabeth told me that when they aren't using the dance hall for dances, they use it to show off livestock," Anise said, pinching her nose.

"That makes sense." This was the country after all. Spaces had to be used.

A group of musicians played lively music, and dancers frolicked in the middle, their moves slightly more boisterous than one might find in Edinburgh and certainly more than in London.

Poppy smiled, having observed that the farther north one went, the less all the proper rules of London society mattered, and she rather liked that. Society edicts were too constraining. As she tapped her foot, learning the styles of dance by watching, she found a little more weight removed from her shoulders.

Contradictory with Poppy's desire to be less constrained was that Anise needed all the constraining she could get. Even now, she was squealing and pointing out the handsome gentlemen in attendance.

"Oh, he is certainly delicious. Even rivaling my dear Sir John."

The fact that Anise barely knew Sir John and had only seen him face-to-face twice didn't seem to matter to her when it came to holding him close to her heart. Poppy couldn't decide whether Anise was a romantic or she'd gone mad. But to be fair, the gentlemen she had pointed out were rather handsome in a much more rugged way than either of them were used to.

"Don't point," Poppy said, pushing her sister's hand down. "No need to draw negative attention to yourself. We've only just arrived."

"I can't help it." Anise sighed and pressed her hands to her heart. "Just when I thought my life had taken a bleak turn where love would never touch my heart, we come here, and I can see at least five gentlemen that I'd let?—"

"Don't say it."

Anise grinned mischievously. "You know me so well."

"A blessing and a curse."

"Girls, I'm going to get some punch and meet some of the other ladies present. Do behave," their mother said, moving toward the punch table and stopping along the way to introduce herself to several of the other matrons in attendance.

"Shall we mingle?" Poppy asked.

"Of course." Anise put her arm around Poppy's, and they meandered through the hall, weaving this way and that, nodding and smiling.

It was too much to hope they might recognize someone, as Poppy had been so young the last time they were in the area, and she didn't think Anise would remember being here at all. And certainly, none of their London or Edinburgh acquaintances were here.

But the strangest thing happened as they were doing their walk about the room. Sir John—of all people—stepped into their path, a smile on his face.

Poppy practically felt Anise's heart leap from her chest.

"Ladies," he said with a low bow.

Anise gasped and tightened her hold on Poppy. "Sir John, what a surprise," she said, though she didn't seem surprised at all, and the only reason she hadn't tossed herself onto the man, Poppy was pretty sure, was because she held her arm tightly to her.

Poppy squinted her eyes at her sister. What kind of a game was she playing here? Had she told him where they'd be? How? Could a letter travel so fast and he come so far?

It had taken them nearly a week to travel from Edinburgh to Skerray. And why would he have just happened to show up… He must have left town shortly after they did. Where was he staying? What were his intentions? A storm of thoughts battered through Poppy's mind, and while Anise shrieked and giggled, Poppy's brows drew closer and closer until she was fairly certain her face resembled a prune.

"I just so happen to have rented one of the manor houses nearby," he drawled.

Was it bad that Poppy found this to be far-fetched? When had she become so skeptical? Sir John seemed perfectly pleasant, and she had no reason to doubt his intentions or words except for how Dougal disliked him. And was she going to take Dougal at his word? He'd lied to her about being betrothed.

Poppy's stomach soured. All she'd wanted to do tonight was meet new people and have a good time, and now she was being reminded of the people and problems they'd left behind.

Sir John continued, speaking exaggeratedly with his arms moving so much that it was as if he were putting on a play. "I couldn't help but come to the dance tonight in hopes of entertainment, and here I've found two familiar and beautiful faces." He winked as if this were a conspiratorial meeting.

"Oh," Anise sighed, pulling out her fan and fluttering it as their mother did.

"What a coincidence," Poppy said, glancing at her sister, trying to figure out what sort of subterfuge was happening here.

"A happy coincidence," Anise said, the picture of innocence, which to Poppy meant exactly the opposite. Somehow, her sister had arranged this.

"May I be the first to add my name to your dance cards?" Sir John asked.

Anise held hers up so fast he'd barely finished his sentence. Poppy watched as he scratched his name down, not once, but twice, onto Anise's card.

"Miss Featherstone?" he asked, his smile genuine and sweet.

Still, she didn't know if she believed it. Anise elbowed her in the ribs when she hesitated.

She nodded and held her empty dance card out, watching the confident scratch of his name fill out the second spot as he'd taken Anise's first. After he finished writing, she worried he might write his name a second time as he'd done to Anise, but thankfully he didn't. Poppy didn't want to dance with him at all, let alone twice. If he were to show her the same favor he showed her sister, then Anise would certainly be put out about it.

The music ended, and there was a brief pause between sets as partners changed, and others went off in search of refreshment.

"Shall we?" Sir John asked Anise, holding his elbow toward her.

Anise grinned, removing her arm from Poppy's to take his, practically skipping off toward the center of the dance floor as they waited for the next set to commence. A lively reel this time.

Poppy watched, standing alone, as her sister was swept about by the handsome and perhaps too charming Sir John. Wallflower was not a term she was used to thinking of herself as, yet it appeared that might be her lot tonight. As she gazed about the room, more females were in attendance than males, and she was a stranger.

"She is so happy," her mother said beside her, handing her a glass of punch.

Poppy had been so focused on counting those in attendance that she hadn't seen or heard her mother approach. "She is."

Lady Cullen squinted toward the dance floor. "Is that Sir John?"

"It is." Poppy was overly curious to see what her mother thought about his arrival in town.

"Oh, what a dear he is to have come up from Edinburgh to see that she was settled." Mama smiled, the look so tender and nostalgic that Poppy couldn't help but wonder if something similar had happened in her past with either of her husbands.

"You think him honorable, Mama?" Poppy tried to keep her tone neutral, not to draw attention to such a question. If her senses were all wrong, there was no need to get her mother nervous over it.

"I do. He seems sweet on her, and she him. And to have traveled all this way?" Mama let out a long sigh. "We might yet have good news this season."

Poppy pretended to smile. Her fabricated cheer had nothing to do with her sister's happiness; she very much wanted that if she could find it. More so, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. There weren't any rumors about him, nor did anyone else in the dance hall seem surprised at his presence. But something was causing her to be vigilant. Perhaps he was too eager? And that eagerness lent to not being genuine?

Anise was beautiful; she was sweet. She was fun. But what about her made Sir John come all this way? Was he in love after only seeing her two times?

"Do you know his circumstances?" she asked.

Mama shook her head. "I hadn't the chance to check prior to leaving Edinburgh. But I'll write a few friends to ask."

"He claims to be renting a manor near town. He must have some means."

"Well, that is impressive. He must intend to court your sister."

"I think he does."

"Then we shall be happy for her." Mama patted Poppy's arm. "There will be a beau for you, too, dear. No need to worry over it."

Poppy nodded, tight-lipped. She wasn't worried about not finding a beau. Already several older gentlemen were eyeing her. If she wanted to be engaged to an octogenarian, she likely could be within the hour.

Perhaps that was what she should do. Offer herself up as the last wish to a dying older gentleman. After all, she had told herself this was a contract, not a love match. A means to an end.

But for every one of the elder gentlemen she studied, from the top of their balding heads to the odd bend of their aging knees, she couldn't find the will to ask for an introduction or even show any interest that might have them come forward. She kept finding herself glancing about the dance hall in hopes that Dougal would appear.

Of all the ridiculous notions. Self-flagellation seemed to be a new hobby for her. For what other reason could she possibly have in trying to hurt herself?

Yet she wished that Dougal, too, would be romantic enough to have come up from Edinburgh like Sir John. To rent a house nearby so she might see him often and believe him when he said he had no intention of marrying Lucia Steventon. For him to sweep her off her feet once more. To bend her over his arm and kiss away all the angst and fear since last season. To be number one in his eyes. To be loved, genuinely and wholeheartedly.

But the one thing she wished for most did not appear.

And why would he? She was a fool even to let herself dream. Better to march into the center of the room and start the bidding for her hand. Though truly, she hadn't much to offer a country gentleman. She wasn't wealthy, and while she had become quite good at beating carpets, she was woefully untrained in any other aspects of running a country home.

Poppy was a city girl, and while she'd never thought of herself as uneducated before, taking her away from that environment left her feeling inadequate.

Still, she looked. Still, she scanned the crowd, bidding them to part to reveal her dark-haired, grumpy hero.

Her heart sank further and further as every minute passed with further disappointment. She declined her dance with Sir John, feigning a headache, and went to sit on the side of the hall like a true wallflower. He took their mother instead, who appeared to be having the time of her life being swung around by a handsome young man.

And finally, after just three dances, Poppy was ready to leave. All the excitement and newness she'd felt earlier when they'd been on the road was gone completely, replaced by melancholy and self-pity.

Anise and Mama joined her for a cup of punch, both full of smiles and redness on their cheeks.

"I am not feeling well," Poppy hedged. "I should like to go home."

"You want to leave? Now?" Anise scoffed. "I don't want to leave. I refuse! What do you mean you aren't feeling well? You were fine moments ago."

Poppy tried to smile but felt a true headache coming on now.

"I'll stay with Anise, dear. You can go home," Mama said, patting her hand. "A good rest will do you some good. Send the carriage back once you've been dropped off."

Anise pouted but nodded, more concerned with herself than Poppy, which was fine. Poppy didn't need any company on the ride home. What she needed was to leave. And what she really needed wasn't even in this county.

Poppy left the dance hall and climbed into the carriage as a pair of riders passed. A tingle made the hairs on the back of her neck rise, and she turned around to get a better look at them, but they were gone, almost as if she'd conjured them up herself.