Diamond in the Rough Read online

  “I’m not the type of lady who flees from unpleasantness, Mr. Middleton,” Poppy said. “Besides, my grandmother went on and on about the importance of this particular event, and I know she’d be more than displeased if I made what would surely be seen by society as a dramatic exit.” She stumbled over Mr. Middleton’s foot and sent him a smile when he helped her regain her balance. “I am curious, though, about what sets this Family Circle Dancing Class apart from all the other frivolities offered this week.”

  A hefty dose of horror flickered through Mr. Middleton’s eyes. “Have a care, Miss Garrison. Society takes their frivolities very seriously and expects its members to understand the importance of every event.” He leaned closer to her. “I trust you’ve heard of the Patriarch Balls?”

  “My grandmother has assured me I’ll be attending every one of those this Season, beginning with the first Patriarch Ball held in January, sponsored by none other than the Mrs. Astor.”

  “I would expect nothing less, given that your grandfather is well acquainted with the original patriarchs who have the honor of choosing the guests for each of those balls.” He nodded to the crowd surrounding them. “Invitations to the Patriarch Balls are most sought after, but what society leaders began to realize was this: Those balls draw attention, not to the many eligible young ladies within society, but to the established society matrons, whom everyone fawns over to shore up their own society positions. Because of that, it was decided that a venue to draw notice to the young ladies was needed, hence the creation of the Family Circle Dancing Class, and hence the reason behind it being one of the first important events of the social season.”

  Moving with Mr. Middleton to join the line of dancers in what would be their final promenade of the Gypsy Quadrille, Poppy ignored the many whispers of the guests lining the ballroom floor as she and Mr. Middleton swept past them. “So there is a waiting list to be invited to this ball?”

  “There is, as well as waiting lists to join many other societal functions this season.”

  “I imagine I’ll now find my name on the very bottom of all those lists.”

  Mr. Middleton shook his head. “Your grandmother wields considerable power within the New York Four Hundred, as does your grandfather, even though he’s rarely in town. Mr. McAllister may bluster and threaten banishment, but I doubt he’ll dare follow through with those threats. He might, however, make it next to impossible for you to become a diamond of the first water, so you will need to tread carefully with your behavior from this point forward.”

  As they reached the edge of the dance floor, Mr. Middleton whispered a reminder that she would be expected to curtsy before the grand society dame who was their sponsor that evening, a formidable woman by the name of Mrs. Eugene Kruger.

  Hoping she wouldn’t fall over while curtsying, since she was unaccustomed to wearing the large bustles that were all the fashion this season, Poppy sank into a curtsy after Mr. Middleton brought her to a stop in front of Mrs. Kruger, relief slipping over her when she managed to rise with ease, even though she thought her bustle might have shifted to the right.

  Stepping out of the way to allow the couple behind them to be acknowledged, Poppy exchanged a smile with Mr. Middleton.

  “I imagine you’re glad that’s over,” she said.

  “I must admit you’re right about that, although I’ll be even more relieved after I’ve delivered you back to your grandmother.” He gave a bit of a shudder. “She is certain to be put out over our performance.”

  “She won’t be put out with us,” Poppy countered. “We did, after all, manage to make it through to the end, and what grandmother wouldn’t be pleased about that?”

  “While completing the quadrille was an impressive feat if there ever was one, I don’t believe your grandmother is going to see that in the same light we do.”

  Poppy swallowed the argument that was on the tip of her tongue because Mr. Middleton had just made an excellent point.

  Her grandmother, who insisted Poppy address her as Viola, was a difficult woman to say the least, and over the two months Poppy had been living under her roof, she’d come to realize that Viola was nothing like the other grandmothers Poppy had encountered over the years.

  Being in her early sixties, although she could easily pass for fifty, Viola was a lady who only dressed in the first state of fashion. She never stepped foot out of her dressing room without every blond hair in place, her nails buffed, and her face looking radiant, which was a direct result of the numerous creams she bought from Paris. Her posture was always perfect, her bearing regal, and she wrapped the extreme wealth she’d been born into around her like a cloak, one that brought to mind images of snobbery at its finest.

  “Shall we get this over with?” Mr. Middleton asked as he gave her a tug in Viola’s direction.

  She fought a grin when Mr. Middleton began dragging his feet the closer they got to her grandmother. Her urge to grin disappeared when they stopped in front of Viola, who, even though she was smiling, had temper flashing out of her blue eyes.

  “I do hope, Poppy,” Viola began in a voice that was downright frigid, “that the debacle I just watched you participate in was not some curious ruse on your part to get released from the agreement you and I have. If it was, I assure you, it was all for naught because I have no intention of releasing you from your promise that easily.”

  Chapter 2

  “Who in their right mind would come up with a ruse that would see a person’s tiara stuck to a gentleman’s jacket?” Poppy asked.

  Viola’s nostrils flared. “You’ve not made it a secret that you find New York society vexing. Frankly, I’ve been expecting you to devise a plan to get released from our agreement, no matter if the means to achieve that may have you resorting to unlikely scenarios.”

  “You’re giving me far too much credit for creativity,” Poppy returned. “If you neglected to notice, I was having difficulty simply remembering all the steps to the quadrille. I certainly didn’t have time to compose some elaborate ruse, even though that might not have been a bad idea if I had any intention of trying to get released from our agreement, which I don’t.”

  Viola glanced around, narrowed her eyes on a gathering of young ladies standing near them, all of whom immediately dashed away in a rustle of silk, then returned her attention to Poppy. “We’ll continue this discussion later when we have more privacy.” She turned her attention to Mr. Middleton, who immediately seemed to shrink in size. “How was it, Mr. Middleton, that you allowed my granddaughter to become such fodder for the gossips? Did it not occur to you to step in and accept full blame for the disaster everyone observed?”

  “Ah . . . well . . .” Mr. Middleton began as he turned concerningly pale and simply stopped speaking.

  Poppy released a breath and caught her grandmother’s eye. “It is not well done of you, Grandmother—”

  “Viola,” her grandmother interrupted.

  “It is not well done of you, Viola,” Poppy amended, “to take Mr. Middleton to task for a situation that was not of his making. Not that you could be aware of this, what with our limited contact over the years, but I’m occasionally prone to clumsiness, which was directly responsible for the mayhem Mr. Middleton and I recently experienced.”

  Viola held up a pair of opera glasses she always kept at the ready. “I was watching your progress during the quadrille, and from what I observed, Mr. Middleton was at fault, but . . .” Her eyes flashed. “You didn’t admit to Mr. McAllister that you have a propensity for clumsiness, did you?”

  “He seems to be a rather astute gentleman, so he probably came to that conclusion on his own.”

  Viola settled a glare on Mr. Middleton. “And you didn’t feel the need to step in and disabuse Mr. McAllister of the notion my granddaughter is a clumsy sort?”

  “Do you know that I once got knocked straight off a horse because a duck flew into me?” Poppy asked when Mr. Middleton seemed at a complete loss for words.

  Viola pulled
her glare from Mr. Middleton and settled it on Poppy. “Why would you take this particular moment to share such an outlandish tale?”

  “Because that tale lends credence to the idea that I often find myself in the most ridiculous situations. I mean, it’s not a frequent occurrence for people to lose their seat on a horse because of a duck, even if the stallion I’d taken out that day was possessed of a questionable temperament.”

  “You willingly chose to ride a stallion with a questionable temperament?”

  “I grew up on a horse farm. I rode horses all the time with questionable temperaments, especially the ones that were unaccustomed to wearing a saddle.”

  “You’ve taken part in breaking horses?” Mr. Middleton asked, his voice rising a good octave as his eyes turned wide as dinner plates.

  “I have, although—”

  “This is hardly the place to discuss such matters,” Viola interrupted. “We’re at Delmonico’s, for goodness’ sake. Talk of breaking horses is not proper fodder for polite conversation.”

  “Too right you are, Mrs. Van Rensselaer,” Mr. Middleton hurried to agree. “And because it’s almost time to repair to the first floor for dinner, if you’ll excuse me, I need to retrieve the name of the lady I’m to escort in to dine.”

  “I thought you’d be escorting me to dinner,” Poppy said.

  “While that would be . . . delightful to be sure, Miss Garrison, I normally find myself relegated to escorting society matrons into dinner over the younger set.” He shook his head. “My mother has made it known that I’m a gentleman always available to step in when men are scarce, but I’m not warmly embraced by the fashionable set. That’s why it’s highly doubtful I’ll find your name on the card I’m off to retrieve from Mr. McAllister.”

  “I find you to be most fashionable, Mr. Middleton,” Poppy argued. “And that right there is exactly why you won’t find my name on your card, not with how annoyed Mr. McAllister seems to be with me.”

  Mr. Middleton’s cheeks turned pink. “No one has ever called me fashionable.”

  “Then you’re not associating with the right people,” Poppy returned before she frowned. “I thought seating assignments for society dinners were given out at the beginning of an event.”

  Mr. Middleton nodded. “They usually are, but because the Earl of Lonsdale is in attendance this evening, Mr. McAllister has decided to add a bit of suspense to tonight’s event, leaving everyone on tenterhooks as to whom they’ll be dining with this evening.” He leaned closer to her. “Perhaps you’ll be fortunate enough to find the earl as your dinner partner.”

  Viola leveled a cool look on Mr. Middleton. “The Earl of Lonsdale is the honored guest this evening, which means he’ll be escorting Mrs. Kruger into dinner because she is the sponsor of this event, a rule of etiquette I would have thought you’d remember, Mr. Middleton.”

  Mr. Middleton gave a bob of his head. “Quite right, Mrs. Van Rensselaer. I seem to have lost my head there for a moment. And on that note, I believe I’ll take my leave and seek out my dinner partner.”

  Poppy smiled. “I hope that partner will be someone possessed of a charming nature. That might go far in turning your evening from a horrifying experience to something more along the lines of pleasant.”

  Mr. Middleton bowed over Poppy’s hand. “Taking the floor with you was not a horrifying experience—or at least not a completely horrifying experience.” He raised her hand to his lips, pressed a kiss on it, then smiled. “You’re a most unconventional lady, Miss Garrison, refreshingly so, and I hope you won’t be opposed to me paying you a call later this week. You might enjoy a brisk buggy ride in Central Park. I have access to a smashing set of bays I believe you’ll find most impressive.”

  “That sounds lovely, Mr. Middleton. I’ll look forward to it.”

  Mr. Middleton smiled and released her hand. He turned to Viola and began to bow but stopped mid-bow when Viola quirked a brow in return. Straightening, and without speaking another word, he bolted away.

  Waiting until he disappeared into the crowd, Poppy turned to her grandmother. “You really shouldn’t glower so at poor Mr. Middleton. You just scared the stuffing out of him.”

  “I’m not above using intimidation to dissuade a most unsuitable gentleman from pursuing you.”

  “I don’t believe Mr. Middleton is intent on pursuing me, merely accompanying me around Central Park for an excursion. Still, if he did have an interest, why would you take issue with that? He comes from a reputable family, and he’s a lovely dancer.”

  Viola took hold of Poppy’s arm. “He lacks ambition. But further talk of his other deficiencies will need to wait. You’re looking frightful, which means we need to make haste to the retiring room and get you and your hair set to rights before we go down to dinner.”

  “You’re going to restyle my hair?” Poppy asked as they began moving through the crowd.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll have the woman attending the retiring room fix your hair. Delmonico’s always keeps such women available to assist the guests, but there’s no telling how competent this woman will be. Don’t expect your hair to look as lovely as it did when you started out this evening.”

  “I’ll be satisfied simply to have it out of my face so I won’t risk dipping it into whatever soups may be served this evening.”

  “A charming thought to be sure,” Viola muttered as they reached the retiring room.

  Stepping into the room behind her grandmother, Poppy discovered three young ladies standing before the mirror, two of whom were pinching their cheeks, while the other was accepting a hand towel from a woman dressed in a severe black outfit, with the only relief being the starched white apron she was wearing.

  “Ladies, we need the room,” Viola said, and just like that, the ladies abandoned their cheek pinching and hand drying and all but raced out the door.

  “Did you notice the looks of terror that immediately crossed their faces when they caught sight of you?” Poppy asked, walking over to a stool that was in front of the mirror and taking a seat. “It’s an unusual talent you possess, and I can’t help wondering if being able to terrify young ladies with a single glance is an accomplishment you intentionally perfected over the years.”

  “I don’t purposely set out to terrify the young ladies of society.” Viola nodded to the woman left in the room with them, one who also seemed to have a trace of terror on her face. “Miss Garrison needs her hair restyled, but we don’t have much time, so do hurry.”

  Eyeing the curling tong that was resting on the counter, Poppy frowned. “I’m not certain it’s wise to demand haste of a woman who is soon to apply a hot tong to my head.” She smiled at the woman. “Take whatever time you need, Miss . . . ?”

  “I’m Alice, miss. Alice Burns,” the woman mumbled as Viola let out a huff.

  “This is not the time to exchange pleasantries with the help, Poppy. We have pressing matters to discuss, and now that we’re alone, I’m free to broach topics that are somewhat delicate without anyone overhearing me.”

  Knowing there was little benefit in pointing out that they weren’t alone since Alice was standing directly beside them, Poppy folded her hands in her lap while Alice began untangling the tiara from her hair.

  “Returning to the problem of Mr. Middleton,” Viola said a moment later. “As I mentioned earlier, he lacks ambition, but worse than that, he’s completely under his mother’s thumb.”

  “Mr. Middleton is very young, and from what I understand, he’s the baby of the Middleton family,” Poppy countered. “It’s little wonder his mother still has sway over him.”

  Viola caught Poppy’s eye in the reflection of the mirror. “While I understand that your upbringing has been unconventional to say the least, what you need to grasp more than anything is this: Your acceptance into high society all comes down to the connections you form. An association with Mr. Middleton will do nothing to elevate your status. And given what just transpired with Mr. McAllister, you’re in a tenuou
s position as it is.”

  “Mr. Middleton is of the belief that your influence will spare me from whatever repercussions Mr. McAllister may wish to level against me.”

  “My influence will guarantee invitations to future events, but it will not guarantee you acceptance into the fashionable set. That means you do not have the luxury of forming friendships with people I can only describe as misfits.”

  “I’ve always felt that misfits are far more interesting than normal folks.”

  “Folks is not a word I ever want to hear out of your mouth again, not if you don’t want to see your time in New York ending in failure and without securing the affections of a suitable gentleman.”

  Waiting until Alice had secured her hair with a few strategically placed hairpins, Poppy turned to her grandmother. “I did not come to New York for the explicit purpose of finding a husband.”

  “There’s absolutely no reason for you to not make the most of this Season and look for a prospective groom. You’ll need one eventually, especially if, heaven forbid, you decide to return to your father’s horse farm and take up with the work you evidently do there.”

  “While it does appear that everyone assumes my lifelong ambition is to continue with the work I’ve always done at Garrison Farms, that’s not written in stone. If you’ve forgotten, I have two younger brothers, both of whom will be more than capable of taking over for my father in what I hope is the very distant future.”

  Viola’s eyes began to gleam. “Does that mean you might entertain the thought of enjoying the summer Season with me in Newport?”

  “I might, although it’s far too soon to say for certain, what with how daunting this New York Season is shaping up to be.” She smiled. “Newport does sound inviting, though, and before I left Pennsylvania, I had a lovely talk with Reverend Thomas Cameron, who lent me some invaluable advice about how I should view my time away from Garrison Farms.”

  “Who, pray tell, is Reverend Thomas Cameron?”

  “He’s been the minister at the church I’ve attended for years, and he’s a man whose counsel I respect.”