A Spinster’s Guide to Danger and Dukes (Ladies Most Scandalous Book 3)
A Spinster’s Guide to Danger and Dukes: Chapter 22

Though he was still smarting from the way Poppy had turned down his proposal the night before, Langham nevertheless chose a seat beside her the next morning in the breakfast room. It might be an uncomfortable situation for both of them, but with Violet’s arrival he was more mindful than ever of the need to keep up the pretense of their false betrothal.

Any worries he might have had about disturbing Poppy with his presence flew away when she greeted him. “Finally,” she said in an undertone as he picked up his fork. “I thought you’d sleep the day away.”

The pink tinge in her cheeks gave him pause as he contemplated what it might be like not to have Poppy by his side. He’d been a fool to offer her friendship when what he felt was so much more, to think that she wouldn’t want to hear how much she meant to him, how much he cared for her. He was determined to right his mistake. But first, they needed to clear Violet’s name.

“I am here now,” he said mildly, tucking into his eggs. “What has you so agitated this morning? You look as if you are ready to levitate like the table at a séance.”

“You might well say that,” Poppy said, and this time when he looked at her he could see it was excitement—not anger—making her eyes shine and her cheeks flush. “I knew from the first that we needed to speak with Violet in order to make better sense of things, and I was right.”

Quickly, she related to him the key points of her conversation with Violet.

When she was finished, Langham shook his head in wonder. “Now I understand why you were so eager to share this news. None of it looks particularly good for Lord Short.”

The duke ticked off the reasons one by one. “He is connected to the Lucifer Society by the pendant he gave your sister. He has reason to want Lovell dead given that the man threatened to expose him to the world as a swindler. And there is strong reason to suspect he stole Violet’s handkerchief and planted it at the tower to implicate her in Lovell’s murder.”

Poppy nodded, but Langham could see the shadow of doubt in her eyes. “What troubles you?”

“I came away from my meeting with Violet thinking that he must be the one who killed Lovell. But after turning it over in my mind later, I realized that I cannot believe he would be so foolish as to leave a knife that linked back to the Lucifer Society so near Lovell’s body. He has been a successful swindler for decades. He hasn’t managed to escape capture for all these years by calling attention to his crimes. I believe he would have made Lovell’s death look like an accident.”

“Like that of Lord Twombley,” Langham said, referring to the victim of Short’s Amazon railway scheme who made the mistake of threatening Short and Lovell with exposure.

“We don’t know that my stepfather and Lovell were responsible for Lord Twombley’s death,” Poppy reminded him. “But it is quite the coincidence that his death, as well as that of Mr. Riggle at the Foreign Office, who confirmed for Twombley that the railway project was impossible, both came so soon after Lord Twombley’s threat.”

“So, we are agreed those other deaths are suspicious,” Langham said thoughtfully. “What else about your stepfather as a suspect in Lovell’s death doesn’t ring true for you? Because when one discounts that particular inconsistency, he certainly seemed to have plenty of reason to want the man dead. His fortune alone is a logical enough reason for me to think it’s more likely than not he’s the killer.”

Poppy rubbed the spot between her brows, as if warding off a headache. “But even that motive is not as straightforward as it appears at first. Why, for instance, if he’d already decided to implicate Violet in Lovell’s murder—and given how receptive Mr. Rhodes has been to the suggestion of her guilt—would he also try to force her to sign over her inheritance? Why not wait for her to hang for Lovell’s murder?”

“The simplest answer,” Langham said, turning to face her, “is that he can’t wait for the wheels of justice to remove her for him. He needs the funds now.”

“That’s vicious even for someone like Lord Short,” Poppy said with a scowl. “Not that it is difficult to believe. It still could be my stepfather taking advantage of Lovell’s death for his own profit, however.”

“Who else could it be?” Langham asked, wishing he could simply offer up the name of the killer so they could be done with this business once and for all.

“Any one of the people on the list we found in Lovell’s bedchamber,” Poppy reminded him. “We were already suspicious that the dates and amounts listed were related to Lovell’s misdeeds, but my sister’s revelation that Lovell blackmailed Lord Short for her hand makes the list highly suspicious. And if that’s the case there are another half dozen possible suspects.”

Now Langham’s head was beginning to hurt.

“Have you had any luck deciphering the list?” he asked gently, not wanting to pressure her overmuch given the emotional whirlwind she’d endured last evening. “Perhaps we can work on it this morning.”

Poppy grimaced. “I did try for a bit last night before I fell asleep, but the relief of finally having Violet somewhere safe must have exhausted me. I was asleep before I’d looked it over.”

She slipped her hand into a hidden pocket of her gown and pulled out the folded sheet of paper. “I have it here. We can look at it after breakfast. Though I do think we should go speak to Lord Short again, as well. Especially now that we’ve spoken to Violet.”

“Perhaps I should speak to him alone.” Langham remembered how cruel and disrespectful the man had been to Poppy on their last visit to Rothwell Grange. “I can dangle the possibility that he can use his connection to my family as a way to replace new victims. If I can spare you another encounter with the man, I am happy to do so.”

To his surprise, Poppy placed her hand over his where it rested on the table. “You would do that for me? Even after I—that is to say, after my refusal of your—?”

He cut her off before she could finish. It was bad enough that she’d turned him down. He didn’t want to hear her spell it out again, no matter how much he respected her decision.

“Of course I would,” he said, turning his hand over to grasp hers. “I hope I at least made it clear to you last night that whatever might happen between us of a romantic nature, I count you as a dear friend. And as your friend, I would spare you every discomfort imaginable if it is in my power to do so.”

He watched in bemusement as her kissable lips parted in surprise at his words.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “It means a great deal to me to know you would do that for me.”

He wanted to say there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her, but didn’t want to damage their fragile peace.

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” Poppy said into the quiet. “When I was talking to Violet last night, she made a slip while we were talking about the knife found near Lovell’s body.”

Quickly she recounted what she’d told Violet about the knife and her sister’s verbal misstep about “Edward.”

“You think she was talking about my cousin?” Langham asked, his mind racing.

“Who else named Edward would be able to give her information about the state Lovell’s body was found in?”

“He never mentioned anything about talking to her,” the duke said thoughtfully. “Though if there was any hint of impropriety between Ned and Violet, that would have given the authorities another reason to suspect her of killing him.”

“Exactly,” Poppy said. “I don’t wish to cause trouble for your cousin, but—”

Before she could finish her thought, however, the butler, Jenkins stepped into the breakfast room. “Your guests have arrived, Your Grace. I’ve put them in the red drawing room.”

Langham thanked the man, then glanced at Poppy, feeling nervous not for the first time this week. He’d received word from Eversham first thing that morning that he and the others were arriving on the early train from London. At the time he’d written to the detective, Poppy had been reeling from the news that Violet was missing. He’d thought requesting that Eversham bring his wife and, if possible, Caro and Val with him for a visit was necessary, given just how much she needed her friends around her.

But that had been before his disaster of a proposal last night. Poppy might have greeted him this morning as if nothing untoward had happened between them, but he was not exactly looking forward to another row in the event that she disapproved of his high-handed decision to ignore her earlier request that he refrain from sending for Kate and Caro.

“More guests for the dowager’s birthday celebration?” Poppy asked, clearly not looking forward to the new arrivals if that was the case.

“No,” he said, rising. “I hope you will be pleased to learn the identity of our guests, though I suppose you will be the judge of that. I’ve arranged a surprise for you.”

Damn it. He hadn’t felt this nervous since he’d summoned the courage to ask Polly Lambkin down at the Pig and Whistle for a kiss when he was thirteen.

She looked startled, but her cornflower blue eyes were alight with excitement. “You have?”

He offered her his hand, and she took it, standing up from her chair.

“Allow me to show you,” he said with a smile, hoping like the devil she’d be pleased.

When they reached the closed door to the red drawing room, he could hear the sound of voices on the other side.

“Please remember, however you might feel about this, I had your best interest at heart when I arranged for them to come,” he said as he opened the door and allowed her to precede him into the brightly lit chamber.

As they walked in, four heads turned, but his eyes were on Poppy as she took in the sight of Lady Katherine Eversham, Caroline, Lady Wrackham, and their husbands, Detective Inspector Andrew Eversham and Valentine, Lord Wrackham.

He’d never seen her at a loss for words, but at the moment she was stunned into silence.

“Flora!” cried Caroline as she hurried forward, her hands outstretched, “my dear girl, why did you not tell us?”

The newly married Lady Wrackham was a petite brunette with a forthright manner that was not unlike Poppy’s. And it was clear from the way she beamed at her friend that anger at Poppy’s deception was the furthest thing from her mind.

“It’s Poppy now, Caro,” chided Kate as she followed close behind the new viscountess. “Though I vow I will have a difficult time remembering it. You’ve always seemed like a Flora to me.”

Langham wanted to remain, just to ensure Poppy’s reunion with her friends went well and she was indeed pleased with the surprise, but he’d barely had a chance to exchange a glance with her when he found himself being spirited from the room by Eversham and Wrackham.

“Come on, old fellow,” said Valentine, Lord Wrackham, clapping him on the shoulder, “they won’t be able to speak freely while we’re about. Show me to your study. I suspect you’ve got some damn fine whisky, though it’s early for it. But I’m dashed if I’ll allow you to ply me with tea like I’m the vicar’s wife come to pay a call.”

On Langham’s other side, Eversham gave a snort. “Pay no attention to him, Langham. He’s been damnably chipper since the wedding. It’s annoying as all hell, but I suppose you’ll be the same soon enough. On second thought, perhaps the whisky isn’t a bad idea.”

Regaining his equilibrium a bit, Langham led the men down the hall to his study. Once they were all seated before the fire with glasses of whisky—despite the early hour—the interrogation began.

“Really, Langham? Miss Deaver?” Val said with a look that seemed a cross between exasperation and chastisement. “I thought you hated each other.”

“I thought the same of you and Caro when I first met you,” Eversham said pointedly to the viscount. Then raising his glass to Langham, he said, “This is damn fine stuff.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking.” Feeling his face burn, Langham scowled at Val. “Do not make me deploy my quizzing glass on you, Wrackham.”

Val snorted. “I’m immune to your affectations, Duke. And Eversham is a detective. It will take more than a glare from you to stop him asking questions.”

“If it’s not what we’re thinking,” Eversham repeated, “then how, precisely, is it? For it’s quite obvious to me that the servants at least—and I suspect the guests and inhabitants as well—believe the two of you to be betrothed. Is that a falsehood?”

Langham drained his glass and then went to pour himself another. If he was going to be subjected to questioning from these two nodcocks, then he’d at least get a bit drunk before submitting to it, never mind how early in the day it was.

“The betrothal is not real. Though I would like it to be.”

“You mean you actually wish to marry Miss Deaver?” Val asked, clearly fascinated by this turn of events.

“Her name is Poppy Delamere,” Langham said curtly. “And yes, I do wish to marry her.”

The silence that met his words was deafening.

He looked from one man to the other, noting their puzzlement and the look they exchanged a moment later.

“What?” he asked, feeling unaccountably alarmed.

“It’s just that we’re surprised,” Eversham said carefully. “I’d never expected you to be so—”

He broke off, as if searching for the right word.

“Lovelorn,” Val finished, not even making an attempt to hide his smirk.

“Oh, sod off.” Langham should have known he shouldn’t have invited Val. No one knew how to needle better than an old friend. “I’m not lovelorn. I am not convinced the situation is hopeless. I have a great deal of hope, actually.”

“Do you, though?” asked Val, with a hand on his chin.

“I hate you,” Langham said pointedly.

“You don’t hate me.” Val didn’t appear to have taken offense. “You are quite fond of me. But what’s more important is that you are quite fond of Miss Deav—er, Miss Delamere. Which is excellent news. It means you are not, as I previously thought, a hollow shell of a man.”

“Perhaps,” Eversham said in the voice that no doubt gave his underlings at Scotland Yard pause, “you had better tell us about the matter that caused you to send for me in the first place, Langham.”

Grateful for the other man’s prodding, Langham related everything that had happened from the time he met Poppy in Paddington Station until what Violet had told her last night—with the exception of the intimate interlude in the temple folly for obvious reasons.

“What the devil is going on in this village?” Val asked when he was finished. “I should have thought a single swindler would be the limit to one small area’s criminal element, but Little Kidding would appear to also have a murderer, a dead maybe blackmailer, and a cult led by a chap who enjoys public nudity and eating raw meat that may or may not be the heart of the aforementioned murder victim.”

“There does seem to be an overabundance of crime here,” Eversham said, in a rare instance of stating the obvious. “But fortunately for you, I’ve experience with solving cases involving two of the three. And so far, it seems as if the naked chap and his friends have only committed criminal trespass, which doesn’t seem as serious as murder or the fraudulent Amazon railway scheme.”

“Now you understand why I sent for you,” Langham said, unable to keep his relief from his voice. “I admit that when Poppy first told me about Violet’s plight, I thought I’d be able to convince the magistrate to investigate further to replace the real killer, but not only has that turned out to be more difficult than I imagined, but the crime itself has proved to be a thornier tangle than it at first seemed.”

“It’s hardly surprising given that you’ve not had much experience with such matters, so do not be too hard on yourself.” Eversham drank the rest of his whisky and set down his glass. “Besides, when you sent your letter, I looked up Alistair Lovell and Lord Short at the Yard to see if we had any information on them. And given that they’ve committed crimes all over England it’s no surprise I found quite a few complaints against them.”

“You did?” Langham asked, feeling his spirits lift at the thought of proving Short’s criminal nature. Now, if they could only tie his financial misdeeds to murder, then Poppy could truly count her sister safe from prosecution. “That’s wonderful news!”

“I’ll have to speak to Lord Short to assess whether I believe his explanation about the Amazon scheme, of course,” the detective said, raising a hand as if to tell Langham not to be hasty. “But Lovell was the last person seen with the man who made the most serious complaint about the scheme before he was found dead under mysterious circumstances. And the fact that Poppy overheard Short talking about the scheme with Lovell ties him solidly to both crimes.”

Thinking back to Adrian’s story about his colleague, Langham asked, “What was the man’s name?”

“Why?” Eversham asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Don’t be such a grouse, Eversham,” Val chastised his friend.

“Just tell me this,” Langham said ignoring the men’s byplay. “Was it a man from the Foreign Office named Henry Riggle?”

The detective sat up straight in his chair as if he’d been touched by a jolt of electricity. “How did you know that?”

Quickly, Langham repeated his brother’s story about Riggle, the railroad scheme in the Amazon, and the subsequent murders of Riggle and Lord Twombley.

Eversham swore. “So they might be responsible for the murder of Lord Twombley as well? I came here thinking to investigate one murder, and now you’ve given me three.”

“Until you confirmed that Riggle had made a complaint about Lovell and Short,” Langham said with a shrug, “Poppy and I weren’t sure that we could actually tie them to the other two murders. My brother is here, so you’ll be able to speak to him if you need any more information about Riggle.”

“We came just in time,” Val said, slapping his hands on his thighs. “If I’d known Little Kidding was such a hotbed of criminality, I’d have come sooner.”

“Yes,” Langham said dryly, “because the only thing that’s kept us from solving all these mysteries was your absence, Wrackham.”

“It’s possible,” the viscount argued. “I have the sort of way about me that encourages mental acuity.”

“You have the sort of way about you that encourages balderdash,” Langham told him firmly.

Val only waved away his friend’s harsh words. “You’re just jealous because you know I’m right.”

“What of the other problem vexing you?” Eversham asked, pointedly ignoring the back and forth between his friends. “You spoke of Miss Delamere turning down your proposal. Is there something we can do to assist with that matter? We are hardly as adept at dealing with such things as Kate and Caro are, but I believe Val and I have enough experience with matters of the heart that we could offer you some sound advice if required.”

“Yes, Langham, let us help you,” Val said with a surprisingly earnest expression. “God knows we have experience in dealing with headstrong ladies.”

But as much as he’d like to take his friends up on their offer, Langham was not sure even the soundest advice in the world would make a difference when Poppy seemed so dead set against accepting his proposal.

“I appreciate the offer,” he told the men sincerely. “But I think I will allow the matter to drop for a bit while we concentrate on clearing Poppy’s sister of wrongdoing once and for all. Then, perhaps I will revisit the matter once Poppy and I are both in a calmer frame of mind.”

Val clapped him on the shoulder. “If you change your mind, you only need to ask. We both know what it’s like to face rejection, so we’re happy to commiserate as needed.”

When Langham had invited them here, he’d thought only of helping Poppy, but he was grateful now for their presence for his own sake.

Perhaps Poppy wasn’t the only one who’d needed to have friends about this week.

* * *

“I’m so sorry,” Poppy said to Kate as she was swept into the other woman’s arms for a fierce hug. “I should have told you my real identity from the very start. But I was so afraid my stepfather would replace me that I dared not do it.”

Her eyes stung with unshed tears as she spoke, remorse mixed up with relief as she reunited with her friend and mentor. She’d poured out the entire story of her ruse and Violet’s situation once they were ensconced in a little-used sitting room where they could speak without being disturbed.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Kate chided her as Caro took her turn at hugging Poppy. “Your secret would have been safe with us, of course, but you wouldn’t have known that at first. And by the time you’d come to trust us you likely felt as if too much time had passed.”

“That was it exactly,” Poppy said, grateful beyond measure that her friends understood her reasons for keeping them in the dark. “I do trust you both. Of course I do.”

“Then why on earth didn’t you tell us about your sister’s plight before you left London?” Caroline asked, once they’d all been seated around a low table set with a tea tray. “We could have helped you.”

“But it was your wedding day,” Poppy protested. “I couldn’t impose upon that. Besides, I had no way of knowing what I’d replace here. I had only that short article in The Gazette to go by.”

Kate pursed her lips then said, “But you turned to Langham of all people? The man is barely fit for polite company.”

“Her fiancé, Kate,” Caro tutted. “Do not forget that small detail. How on earth did that happen, Flor— ah, Poppy? I thought you abhorred the man.”

“He’s not what you think,” Poppy said, feeling protective of Langham now that she knew him far better than she had in London. “He’s been exceedingly kind to me, and I won’t have you speak ill of him, Kate, no matter how much you might dislike him.”

She added, “And before you go getting ideas about how things really are with us, I have to tell you that the betrothal is just a sham that we concocted on the journey here. He guessed that I would be reluctant to accept his help without giving him something in return, so he suggested that I pretend to be his betrothed this week. It protects him from the lures cast at him from the unmarried ladies at his grandmother’s party, while also lending me the protection of his title while I work to clear Violet’s name.”

“A sham?” Caro asked, her shock evidence on her heart-shaped face. “Are you sure? Because I saw quite clearly how the man looked at you when we first arrived, and that was not the look of a man pretending to be besotted.”

Caro’s words made Poppy’s heart constrict, but she knew her friend had simply seen what she expected to see. “Believe me, I know just how he feels about me. There might be— well, desire between us, but he told me himself just last night that what he feels for me is friendship.”

Poppy felt the full weight of Kate’s gaze as she stared at her. “What did he tell you last night? And your use of the word ‘desire’ seems to indicate that there has been some demonstration of that between the two of you. Am I correct?”

And suddenly Poppy was telling them all about the bond she’d formed with Langham over the few days, from their time on the train up until this morning’s conversation at breakfast before the party from London had arrived.

When she was finished, Caro shook her head. “You’ve managed to live the events of an entire season in the course of a few days, my dear. And that’s just with regard to Langham. Add in your situation with your sister and the rest of the mysterious goings-on here, and I am shocked you’re still able to speak at all.”

“Or,” Kate added with a thoughtful look at Poppy, “that you and Langham are still speaking. But you are. And considering how much the two of you disliked one another before, that is saying something. Like Caro, I’m not sure I believe the man I saw earlier is one who only feels friendship for you. I know we’ve spoken before of how clumsy men can be at times when it comes to showing their affection. Is it possible that his proposal to turn your betrothal from a false one into a genuine one was predicated on more than friendship and a desire to preserve your reputation?”

Thinking back to their conversation last night, Poppy tried to remember exactly what had been said. But she’d been so tired from the day’s events—including the earth-shattering encounter in the folly—that she’d not even heard everything he’d said.

“Perhaps?” she said aloud. “I don’t know. He didn’t say anything about love. I know that much. And I simply knew that if I couldn’t have the sort of happiness that the two of you have in your marriages, it would be better not to marry at all. So, I refused him. Was I wrong?”

“Oh Poppy, dear,” said Kate, taking her hand. “No, not at all. Of course you must wait for love, if that is what you want. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to marry where there is love only on one side. I simply think that you should allow yourself some time to get past the emotional turmoil of your sister’s situation before you make a final decision.”

“I’ve already said no,” Poppy said with a pang of sadness. “I doubt he would be foolish enough to ask again.”

At this both Caro and Kate laughed.

“Darling, he is a duke who is accustomed to getting exactly what he wants in this world,” Caro said with a smile. “If he truly loves you and wishes to marry you, he will ask again.”

Thinking back to the way he’d looked at her that morning, Poppy thought her friends might be right.

“Enough about frustrating gentlemen,” Kate said with a wave of her hand, “let us talk about the murder that brought you to Little Kidding.”

“Yes!” Caro said, her eyes lighting up at the mention of the murdered man. “You must tell us everything. You only revealed a few highlights earlier.”

“Caro,” Kate said in a dampening tone, “a man has been murdered.”

“Yes,” Caro agreed. “A very disagreeable man, whom our friend fled to London to escape. Not to mention that he was then foisted upon her poor sister, who is now accused of killing him. There can be no harm in relishing the details of the search for his killer thus far.”

“I suppose when you put it like that…” Kate said grudgingly.

Poppy was so glad they were here. She’d needed them she realized now. How insightful of Langham to realize it. She’d thought when he first mentioned calling for Eversham—which would mean revealing her deception to Kate and Caro—that she wasn’t ready to face them. But she should have known better than to think the two women would hold her duplicity against her. She should have told them about her sister’s predicament from the first. Their presence here, now, was a balm she hadn’t even known she needed.

“So, tell us everything,” Kate said, echoing Caro’s words.

Quickly, Poppy told them in more detail about what they’d learned of Lovell’s murder, the Lucifer Society, and finally the Amazon railway scheme.

When she was finished, Caro whistled. It was wholly unladylike, and Poppy loved her all the more for it.

“I am now thoroughly cross with you for not telling us before you left London,” she said with mock severity. “This story has everything. From murder to blackmail to scandalous goings-on in caves. The only thing missing is a ghostly monk roaming the halls of the abbey at night.”

“There might be a ghostly monk,” Poppy said thoughtfully, “but Langham hasn’t mentioned one.”

“Oh, it’s no matter,” Caro said with a wink. “The man has already made love to you in a folly. I think that beats out silly old ghost stories, don’t you?”

“You’ll have to forgive her, Poppy,” said Kate with a quelling look in Caro’s direction. “Her marriage has only given Caro license to make even more inappropriate comments than before. One would think that being the next Duchess of Thornfield would give her an incentive for gravitas, but that is not the case, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sitting right here,” Caro said crossly to Kate. Then to Poppy she said, “I am sorry, my dear. I suppose it was poorly done of me to bring up your tryst with Langham, but you know what a romantic I am. I just know that man feels more for you than mere friendship. He was looking at you as if he would like to press you against the nearest wall and—”

“You may stop now, please, Caro,” Poppy said, holding up a staying hand. Her face felt like it was on fire, and she was quite sure it was just as red. “I hope that you and Kate are correct in your assessment of the duke’s feelings, but I am not quite so sanguine. But I will not give up hope. Which is more than I could say before you arrived this morning.”

Caro had the good grace to look abashed. “I did not mean to make you feel bad, my dear.”

“I know you did not,” Poppy said, taking each of her friends by the hand. “And I love you both for your optimism, even when I replace it difficult to replace mine. Now,” she said, straightening her shoulders, “let us turn our attention to the most pressing problem: clearing my sister’s name. Until that happens, I cannot even begin to give my full attention to anything else.”

“Agreed,” Caro said, her expression turning serious. “And we will do what we can to help you.”

“Which,” Poppy said with a grateful smile, “is precisely what I was hoping you’d say.”