Page 60

CHAPTER TWO

He wasn’t a perfect man, but Alexander did not think he had done nearly the crime to result in him being paired for a full fortnight with the most intimidating woman in England.

Poppy Stanton was pretty in her own right, but what made her terrifying was her sharp eyes that seemed to peer into his very soul and find him lacking. Combined with her intelligence and poise, a lesser man would crumble to dust in her presence.

Yet Alexander wasn’t a lesser man. He was up to the challenge Poppy presented which was the exact heart of the problem. Alexander had never met a challenge he could walk away from and Poppy promised to be the most satisfying victory yet. As well as the most dangerous.

Because a woman like Poppy was not one to be toyed with.

She did not seek diversion in a man’s arms as some her age might with the freedom of a spinster.

She was the marrying kind. And that was the most dangerous woman of all.

Which is why Alexander kept as much distance between him and Poppy as possible.

The marrying kind of woman and a renowned rake were not a match because their very goals were in conflict. Which Alexander reminded himself again as he watched her descend the stairs of his ancestral home in a filmy grass green day gown that perfectly complimented her auburn hair and green eyes.

He most certainly did not appreciate the curves hinted at by the gossamer fabric nor ponder how many buttons stood between him and a closer inspection. And when he held out his arm and she placed her hand on his forearm, he absolutely did not shiver from the contact.

Alexander pretended not to see the glance of surprise she sent him as they touched with layers of fabric between them.

Had she noticed the spark as well? He thought he was making the responsible choice by leaving the brewing scandal in London behind.

Had he known he was riding into an even more precarious situation, he would have kept riding.

The garden was strung with colorful lanterns and couples milled about in various groups.

The ladies tittered nervously and the gentlemen tugged at their collars.

Such a group of young lads and ladies. Alexander felt every one of his twenty and six years.

Was he ever that young and eager? Not for an engagement, that was certain.

He was grateful to be with Poppy at this party as she was his age and likely was also assessing the young pups with apprehension. To confirm his thoughts, she huffed beside him. It was an unladylike sound and should have turned him off yet he found he echoed the sentiment wholeheartedly.

“Were we ever that young?” She whispered.

“No,” he replied flatly. “It is impossible that we were ever that naive.”

“I dare say I agree with you.”

Alexander cast a shocked look her way and Poppy lifted a shoulder slightly. “I find myself just as surprised at this turn of events, Mr. Ambrose.”

“Please call me Alexander.”

“That would be most unusual, Mr. Ambrose. I regret that I cannot take that liberty.”

“As you prefer, Miss Stanton.”

Whatever momentary truce they’d found dissipated as quickly as sugar in their afternoon tea.

Miss Stanton was not his particular cup of tea, yet they were forced together for the next fortnight.

The time stretched out ahead of them like an impossible barrier between him and freedom.

His brother may as well have condemned him to a prison sentence.

The man in question was currently across the lawn, a grin on his face while he stuffed it with a scone.

Alexander resisted the urge to tackle him and his knowing expression straight to the ground like he had when they were lads.

August was enjoying putting his younger brother in this position.

Always resentful of Alexander’s freedoms when August had to carry the mantle of responsibility of the first-born son.

The tables had well and truly turned and Alexander gritted his teeth at the knowledge he was stuck.

Miss Stanton gentle touch on his arm was driving him mad and he wished she’d remove it.

She appeared oblivious and continued her touch, using it to influence his direction until they found themselves standing in front of the tea table laden with treats.

Alexander had never met a woman who had the uncanny ability to lead him around without so much as saying a word. It seemed she had a direct connection to his brain and the power of suggestion over his behavior.

“I’d love a plate, thank you,” she said suddenly, as if in response to a question he most certainly didn’t pose.

It took Alexander a moment to compose himself and wipe the look of surprise off his face before his brother noticed. Alexander was not the kind of man who procured a plate for a woman. That was courting behavior and he avoided it at all costs.

However, it was apparent that Miss Stanton would continue to aim her overly sweet smile in his direction until he complied. Which is how Alexander found himself for the first time in his life selecting an array of treats for a woman he was not related to.

Sweat broke out on his brow as he considered the options. If he were choosing for himself, he would have picked several of everything but what did ladies enjoy? What did Miss Stanton prefer? And more importantly, why did he care?

Shaking off his anxiety, he feigned confidence as he selected several types of sandwich, a petite scone, and several petit fours. He assessed their seating options and was dismayed to discover the only logical seating left was a table for two facing the large lake on the property.

Huffing a breath, he led Miss Stanton to the seating, placing the plate on the table before making a show of pulling out her seat and assisting her to settle in. He did not dare glance at August for fear of being infuriated by the smug smile he knew his brother was aiming his way.

“Thank you, Mr. Ambrose.” Miss Stanton’s voice was bright and overly loud, suggesting she too was playing a role with which she was not accustomed.

Alexander bowed. “You are most welcome. I shall be but a moment while I fetch our drink.”

The momentary relief of being without a delicate hand on his arm was quickly followed by the feeling he’d left something important behind. Alexander quickly procured the tea and returned to the table before he had time to reflect too deeply on the sentiment.

The goal of the afternoon was to distance himself from Miss Poppy Stanton as efficiently as possible and engage with her only when strictly necessary. Alexander was not looking for a bride, no matter how fetching she may be.

“Mr. Ambrose, I dare say the weather is simply perfect this afternoon. I think I’ll take a turn about the garden with my sister following tea.”

And Alexander was reminded why she was just a vexing as she was fetching. Her quick dismissal stung although he should be feeling relief. The thing was that Alexander was accustomed to be the one doing the dismissing, not the other way around.

He had the sudden urge to offer his escort but was saved by the soft lilt of his sister in law. Emma appeared at their table, the young Clover and an equally young suitor lingering in her wake.

“My dear Alexander and Poppy. I had the most wonderful idea while talking with Clover. She expressed how much you both enjoy an afternoon of horsemanship and our stables are the very best.”

Poppy set her tea cup on the saucer just a little too firmly and the rattle of the china reverberated across the table. She was quick to steady the cup before tea spilled but Alexander observed her clear discomfort.

“I do enjoy a leisurely ride on a well seasoned horse. I leave the adventurous riding to Clover.”

He noticed Miss Stanton did not confirm her love of riding. Clover beamed at her sister, oblivious to her discomfort.

Emma also seemed to not notice and clapped her hands with glee. “It is settled then. Clover and Mr. Billing will join Poppy and Alexander for a leisurely afternoon ride tomorrow afternoon.”

Alexander swung his head in surprise at his inclusion. Surely Miss Stanton could chaperone her sister without his assistance. And if he were to attend, who would chaperone Miss Poppy Stanton?

Emma bounced off with her two charges, leaving Poppy and Alexander to consider their fate.

A single glance told him that she was also dreading the outing.

Her teeth gently worried her lower lip as her tongue darted out and Alexander found himself tracking the movement intent on replacing her tongue with his own.

With a start he shook off the image, standing abruptly and toppling his chair in the process. The clatter drew attention from the group and he quickly righted the furniture before bowing towards Miss Stanton with a mumbled apology about an urgent letter he must write.

Without a backward glance, he strode across the yard and did not stop until the door to his bedchamber was firmly closed.

He leaned his head back against the door and closed his eyes.

How had his escape from London become his own personal torture chamber?

Where every thought returned to Miss Poppy Stanton with alarming frequency.

Alexander was not going to survive the next two weeks.