Dukes to the Left of Me, Princes to the Right (37 page)

She was going to
do
something.

Something that even the wicked Duke of Drummond of Cook’s tales might do. Something that the real Duke of Drummond thought he was going to do (but wasn’t because
she
was).

She was going to retrieve the painting for her family.

All by herself.

Hiding out in the open. Isn’t that what Lady Derby had done by commissioning that portrait and by being in the Service in the first place?

Poppy was going to hide out in the open, too. She’d be brazen like her mother and Clarissa and hope for the best. She’d retrieve the portrait, and if she got caught, she’d show the world her mother’s receipt signed by Revnik and dare anyone to deny its veracity.

It was a gamble. But she was sure the Service wouldn’t step forward and make a claim. Hadn’t Nicholas told her that the clandestine agency would no more acknowledge its role in anything than a small child would admit to stealing a sweet from his nurse’s apron?

And what need would the Service have of the painting, anyway—after they’d seen it and uncovered their precious mole? Which she’d let them do while she was holding on to it—and only in the sanctuary of her own home.

But she needed the Spinsters to help her.

She called on Eleanor and Beatrice at one of their favorite emergency meeting places, the Ribbon Emporium, where no one would ever guess they were talking about anything more substantial than ribbons.

They all shared one big hug.

“We’re so glad you’re back in Town,” said Eleanor.

“And so sorry about Drummond,” Beatrice murmured.

“I don’t believe the princess’s story,” said Eleanor.

“Neither do I.” Beatrice’s eyes were lit with speculation. “She’s after Drummond, and she’ll get him any way she can.”

Poppy gripped both their hands. “The irony is, these last few weeks I’ve been tasked to keep her happy.”

Beatrice drew in her chin. “By whom?”

Poppy bit her lip. “I can’t say. But it’s possibly a matter of”—she looked around to make sure no one was listening—“
national security,
” she whispered.

Eleanor gave a nervous giggle. “You sound as if you’re working for the government on a secret mission.”

Poppy let her eyes go very wide and said nothing.

Beatrice let out a little squeak. “You are, aren’t you?”

“I can’t say.”

“Pick a pink ribbon if
yes,
and a green ribbon if
no,
” Eleanor urged her.

Poppy picked up a pink ribbon.

“I can’t believe it,” cried Beatrice.

“This is amazing!” Eleanor clapped her hands.

“I’ve been dying to tell you about this latest … pink ribbon,” Poppy said with a grin, “but you really didn’t have a need to know. That’s some kind of rule the duke must abide by, the need-to-know principle.”

“Drummond?”
Eleanor hastily picked up a yellow ribbon and pretended to examine it. “Is he working on this with you?”

“Oh, dear,” said Poppy, totally flustered. “I really can’t say, but—”

She held up a pink ribbon.

“He’s in on it, too!” Beatrice crowed.

Eleanor’s brows flew up. “Goodness, Poppy, what’s going on?”

She flushed. “All I can tell you, girls, is that—much as I was dying to tell you before and couldn’t—you
do
need to know what I’m up to now. Because this is much more than a simple matter of national security. This has become a Spinsters problem—and we must solve it together.”

All three of them exchanged grave looks.

“Tell us what we have to do,” Eleanor said.

Beatrice had a noble look in her eye. “We’re up to the task.”

So Poppy told them about the painting and her plans for it. It would mean Nicholas wouldn’t get his M.R. But he was a duke and an intelligent man, she reminded herself, and there were always opportunities for other M.R.’s in the Service.

He’d land on his feet, she had no doubt.

“I have no solid proof Mama commissioned it,” she said, “except the receipt Nicholas and I managed to get our hands on—which he says may be fake.”

“Why would it be fake?” Eleanor asked.

Poppy drew in a deep breath. “Because my mother…” She held up another pink ribbon. “Can you guess?”

Beatrice put her hand to her throat. “Your mother worked for the government? This is getting to be a bit overwhelming.”

“Isn’t it shocking?” Poppy agreed. “But I know Mama, and I trust my own intuition. She and Revnik both might have colluded to put a message in the painting, but if she’s the mother I know, she got that idea after she’d already asked Revnik to paint the portrait as a gift for Papa.”

“We believe you,” Eleanor said.

“And we’re going to help you get it back,” said Beatrice.

Poppy was so pleased. “Here’s the other part of what I wanted to tell you. I found the man who seems perfect for me.”

Eleanor’s mouth split into a wide grin. “You have?”

“Who?” Beatrice’s eyes widened.

Poppy tried to say who it was, but his name got stuck in her throat. She was angry. And hurt. She felt the veriest stooge.

“Oh, dear.” Beatrice sighed. “It’s the Duke of Drummond, isn’t it?”

Poppy nodded. “You know he’s marrying Natasha. And even if he weren’t, I wouldn’t want him. He—he’s not to be trusted.”

“He’s an Impossible Bachelor,” Eleanor said. “You knew that from the start.”

“I never meant to fall for him,” Poppy said. “In fact, Sergei proposed.”

Both her best friends were in a tizzy.

“It’s what you wanted,” Beatrice said.

“This is—
was
—your dream come true.” Eleanor giggled.

“Yes, it used to be.” Poppy gave a quick shrug. “But then Eversly proposed.” She paused. “And I might accept him.”

Beatrice squeezed her arm. “But you don’t
love
him. A true Spinster would never marry a man she doesn’t love.”

“I know.” Poppy couldn’t help it. She felt a lump in her throat. “Remember I said this isn’t just a national security problem but a Spinsters problem?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” said Eleanor in a soothing voice. “And we never really went over that.”

“I simply assumed you meant that Spinsters stick together, even when one of us is stealing—I mean,
retrieving
—a painting,” Beatrice clarified.

“I did mean that,” said Poppy. “But I also meant that I’m afraid I’m calling into question our basic bylaws. I’ve informed Aunt Charlotte of my concerns.”

“Exactly what are these concerns?” Eleanor asked.

Beatrice led them to a park bench not far from their waiting carriages, and they all sat.

Poppy smoothed out her skirts. “I fell in love with the wrong person. Yet he fits every single requirement for giving up my membership. My situation reveals a basic flaw in our bylaws.”

Beatrice and Eleanor stared at her.

Beatrice bit her lip. “So you’re saying, according to our bylaws, Drummond’s your perfect match—but he’s not.”

“Exactly,” said Poppy. “How could he be, when he’s … already broken my heart?” Her voice cracked a little. “A man like Eversly wouldn’t do that. He’s too kind. And thoughtful. I’d be much better off renouncing my Spinsterhood for
him
.”

“I see what you mean,” said Eleanor. “If
much better off
means your heart is never at risk.”

Beatrice sighed. “That’s what it comes down to. You’d be safe with Eversly. But with Drummond, there’s the chance you’d be hurt.”

They sat for a moment in silence.

“Spinsters are brave,” said Eleanor eventually. “We’re not supposed to give in to fear.”

Beatrice smoothed Poppy’s hair. “If we love someone, we have to be willing to put ourselves at risk.”

“I think the bylaws stand,” Eleanor insisted. “You shouldn’t marry anyone who doesn’t meet the requirements. Drummond does, and you have to be willing to risk everything for him.”

Poppy closed her eyes. “It’s too late.”

“Has he been to the altar yet with Natasha?” Beatrice raised a brow.

“No,” Poppy said, “but he fathered her baby.”

She couldn’t bear to think of their intimacies in her father’s library and on Nicholas’s sailboat and then imagine that he’d done all that and more with that scheming witch!

Eleanor scoffed. “And you believe Natasha?”

“Over the man you love?” Beatrice eyed her disbelievingly.

“He never denied it,” Poppy said, a little embarrassed. “But he never admitted it, either. In fact, he was acting quite unlike his usual self.”

“He’s a man with secrets, isn’t he?” Eleanor waggled her brows.

“Yes,” whispered Poppy.

He was a man with secrets. And she suddenly remembered that moment when he’d said
thrilled
. He hadn’t looked drunk then. Perhaps he’d been trying to tell her something—and couldn’t.

Thrilled
was their special word.

One might even say it was their code word.

A small flame of hope surged in her breast. She reached out and grabbed both her friends’ hands. “I knew I loved you for a reason.”

Beatrice grinned. “And we love you, too.”

“We no longer have a crisis with the Spinsters Club,” Eleanor declared. “You’re going to be shrewd about it, but you’re not going to give up on Drummond just yet. Of course, we still have that matter of the portrait to deal with.”

“We’ve no time to waste.” Beatrice stood and popped up her parasol. “Ladies?”

Poppy pulled Eleanor up by the hand.

And they formed a small huddle, their hands resting over each other’s.

“Hell will freeze over,” they recited in whispers, “before we—”

“Give up our passions,” said Beatrice.

“And give in to our parents,” murmured Poppy.

“To marry men we don’t love,” added Eleanor.

They released their hands and said as one, “The Spinsters Club? Never heard of it.” Then Beatrice twirled her parasol, Eleanor adjusted her bonnet, and Poppy yawned to cover a happy grin.

She said her good-byes and walked to her carriage, feeling so much better now that she’d spoken to her friends.

But her grin faded when she opened the door and saw a strange elderly man with a pale face and high shirtpoints waiting for her inside.

“Hello, Lady Poppy,” he said in a thin, grim voice. “Do get in. I am Mr. Groop, and I have something very important to tell you about the Duke of Drummond.”

CHAPTER 43

Nicholas stood next to a table laden with bowls of caviar at the Lievens’ ball, Natasha hanging on his elbow. Finally, it was time to retrieve the painting. He’d endured several days of misery being cast into the role of Natasha’s beloved. He’d also spent several frustrating days of speculation, wondering about Groop and his odd behavior. He dared not ask the spymaster what he’d been up to, following his brother like that. He needed time to gather more information, and he must be subtle about it.

One way he’d tried was by casually mentioning Frank’s name to Groop. Just once. Interesting how the old man never acknowledged they’d met.

But why? What had Groop to hide?

“I’m so hungry,” Natasha whispered up to him with an alluring smile that did nothing but aggravate him. “Would you fix me a plate as I’m eating for two?”

Nicholas really hadn’t wanted to hear that at the moment. But what could he do other than endure? So he gritted his teeth and handed her a plate of caviar and toast points.

“Here you are”—he inhaled a deep breath—“my dearest darling.”

Natasha jerked her gaze back to his, her eyes alight with something fervent. “So,” she said breathlessly, “you
do
love me.”

He put on his best besotted look. “I worship the ground you walk on. And I look forward to all the children you’ll bear me. I want to have ten.”

“Ten?” Natasha made a face.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “Let me show you where we’ll live with our happy brood.”

And he pulled out the map of Lumley’s new estate. “The Orkney Islands, above Scotland. We shall be on the northernmost isle. I’ve already dubbed the house ‘Castle Natasha.’ It’s not a castle, really, more a humble abode, but we don’t need anything but love to survive, do we, my dear?”

Natasha sucked in a breath. “Over my dead body shall I move there.”

Nicholas chuckled. “Of course you shall.” He folded the map and put it back in his pocket. “It’s heaven on earth, even if it is a bit cold.”

He sniffed and looked about the room.

Natasha was staring at him as if she’d seen a ghost. “What about Seaward Hall?”

“I sold it,” he said. “I want to carry you even farther away, where I can have you all to myself. Oh, and did I tell you about the sheep? The corgis will herd them every day.”