Lord Valorous(8)

She worked for three hours. Backbreaking work that had her hauling linen and buckets upstairs. Work that exposed her to naked flesh. She saw women's breasts and men's bottoms, and it was proof of how tired she was that after three weeks, no sight shocked her anymore.

Her parents would be horrified if they knew what she was doing, and she battled back the tears that thinking of her home always induced.

When family friends had offered to take her to London for a visit, Poppy had leapt at the chance, and her father had agreed. If she secured work and lodgings that her companions were happy with, she could stay; if not, she must return with them. She had found work immediately with Lady Revel, and for a while, her life had been all she'd hoped it would be.

Lord Dangerous had asked why she had not gone home after losing her position, and she'd told him the reason was due to the number of children in her parents' household, which was only partly true. Failure was to Poppy a bitter pill that she had no wish to swallow. Going home with her tail between her legs was not an option. Pride was a terrible thing, she thought, opening the side door to the brothel and slipping out. Looking around, she saw no sign of Lord Kinsale. The man worried her; she'd be lying if she said otherwise. It was pride that kept her going each day, pride and the knowledge that if she returned home her eldest brother would say "I told you so," and that would never do.

"Miss March, my master wishes me to drive you home."

Startled, Poppy let out a small squeak as a man approached her.

"If you will step inside the carriage, please."

It was the carriage that had carried her here.

Poppy looked at the driver. He must be chilled to the bone. "Have you been sitting out here for long?"

"No indeed. I sat inside the carriage, Miss March, and kept myself warm sipping my flask."

"Still," she said, not moving. "It was wrong of your master to force you out in the cold." 

The man looked horrified.

"My master is a good man, Miss March. The best, in fact, and as I've worked for a few who aren't, believe me when I tell you I know the difference. He did not want you walking home alone, therefore if you would please step inside, I shall make sure you don't."

She could walk for forty minutes in the cold, or she could travel in comfort and warmth. There really was no choice.

"I'm sorry, but I really cannot accept your kind offer. It would not be right."

The man thought about that, scratching his chin.

"Seems to me that it couldn't be any more right, if you'll pardon me for saying so, Miss March. For tonight, you can ride home in warmth and reach your bed an hour earlier. Surely your pride can allow that?"

"What's your name?"

"Hamley, Miss."

"I have a foolish pride, Hamley."

His smile was small. "Well now, it seems we all have that, but the thing is, unless you do get inside this carriage, I will simply follow you, as my master was most insistent I see you home this night."

It was the yawn that did it, so wide Poppy was sure she'd displaced her jaw.

"Very well, if you insist. Please thank your master on my behalf, Hamley."

He closed the door, and she settled on the seat and closed her eyes. Her body was bone weary, and she simply longed for the small narrow bed high in the attic of Mrs. Henry's house.

The drive seemed only a matter of minutes, and after thanking the driver, she climbed yet more stairs to the very top of the four-story house. She'd started on the second floor, and as her finances had dwindled to almost nothing she'd moved into progressively cheaper rooms, until she ended in the smallest room in the house. The attic.

Washing and pulling on her nightclothes in the tiny space, she managed not to bang her elbow on the cupboard this time. Pulling back the curtains, Poppy then fell into bed. Exhaustion dragged her eyelids down and slowly took the smile from her face. She had met a nobleman tonight, Lord Dangerous.





CHAPTER THREE





Poppy woke early, as she usually did. Even after finding her bed late, it was always the case. Raised with eight siblings in a busy household, she'd never had the luxury of waking when she wished.

She washed, dressed, and cleaned her small room. Once that was done, she sat on the bed and wondered what she should do today. Deciding she had no wish to look at her four walls, she pulled on her bonnet and coat, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and smoothed her fingers into gloves before going downstairs.

"It's brisk out this morn, Miss March. Cold enough to freeze spit!"

Charming. "Thank you, Mr. Spindle, I shall have a care."

The elderly man who was lucky enough to live on the bottom floor and have two rooms to walk about in, nodded, and Poppy moved on. The house was taken up with old people and her, and she liked it that way, even if she had to spend a great deal of time helping them with everything from moving furniture to trimming hair.