Diamond in the Rough Read online

  The gleam in Viola’s eyes turned to wariness. “What type of counsel could this small-town reverend lend you?”

  “Well, as you must know, Mother was adamant that I refuse your offer of a Season, but Reverend Cameron thought I should accept, convincing me that time away from the farm would be a wonderful way for me to broaden my horizons and see more of what the world has to offer.”

  Viola’s brows knit together. “Your mother told me that I was ruining your life by taking you away from your beloved farm, and also that I was certain to cause you irreparable harm by bringing you out in high society.” She caught Poppy’s eye. “Why would Elizabeth have told me that if you’d willingly decided, after seeking the counsel of this Reverend Cameron, to travel to New York?”

  “Surely you haven’t forgotten how Mother seems to extract a great deal of enjoyment out of annoying you.”

  Viola’s lips thinned. “There is that, but tell me this. Did your Reverend Cameron not mention anything about looking for a suitable husband while you’re in New York? I would think that even a rural man of the cloth would want to encourage a lady who is rapidly approaching spinsterhood to take advantage of such a wonderful opportunity to become acquainted with so many eligible gentlemen.”

  “We never discussed that particular subject because, if you’ll recall, the main reason I agreed to this Season in New York was because that was your condition before you would agree to assist my parents out of their unexpected financial difficulties.”

  Viola lifted her chin. “I don’t know how their financial difficulties could have been unexpected when they were foolish enough to take out a large loan to expand the Garrison enterprise.”

  Poppy shifted on the seat, stilling when Alice suddenly came closer to her with the hot curling tong. “My parents had no way of knowing that the bank would suffer a financial setback and call in the loan a good two years before it was supposed to be due.”

  “They shouldn’t have taken out a loan in the first place. Elizabeth could have simply contacted me and asked for the money needed for the expansion of the stables into Kentucky.”

  “You and Mother have been mostly estranged from each other ever since she ran off with my father twenty-four years ago.”

  “Elizabeth and I still have a small amount of contact.”

  “You speak once a year when my mother travels to New York in December to bid you a Merry Christmas and do a bit of shopping.”

  “That’s still contact.”

  “Barely, and it’s not as if either of you enjoy an emotional reunion.”

  “The Van Rensselaers are not known to be overly emotional.”

  “Mother is a Van Rensselaer and she can be downright sentimental at times.”

  “There’s always an odd duck in every family.”

  “I’ve been known to become quite emotional, especially if I’m reading a novel that has a less-than-happy ending,” Poppy said as Alice abandoned the curling tong and began gathering the newly created curls onto the top of Poppy’s head. “I have fond memories of Mother stealing into my room to spirit away books she was convinced would cause me to become morose for days.”

  Clear horror flashed through Viola’s eyes. “I’ve always been of the firm belief that novels were to blame for Elizabeth’s disgraceful abandonment of New York. I highly doubt she’d have thought about running away with your father if she hadn’t been privy to tales of forbidden love.”

  “Perhaps if you hadn’t been so determined to see her married to a man of your choosing, you would have seen that my father was perfect for her.”

  “Mr. William Daft, the man I’d selected for Elizabeth, was a charming young gentleman. He would have most assuredly provided your mother with a fine home and whatever else she may have desired.”

  “Mother once told me Mr. Daft was like Mr. Collins from Pride and Prejudice.”

  “Which proves my point about her being overly influenced through novels, although I’ve never read Pride and Prejudice so I’m not at liberty to comment on whether Mr. Daft shared characteristics with a certain Mr. Collins.”

  “How is it possible you’ve never read Pride and Prejudice?”

  “I don’t read novels, nor can I be persuaded to change my mind about that after I experienced Elizabeth running off with Harold.” Viola pursed her lips. “Your father, if you didn’t know, was only in New York all those years ago to deliver horses that your grandfather bought from Garrison Farms. The next thing I know, your mother was inviting him into our house for tea, and then, after I insisted she discontinue her budding friendship with Harold, she ran off with him. I’m convinced that Jane Austen’s insipid novels were directly responsible for leaving Elizabeth with an unrealistic view of the world, one where romance ruled the day and everyone got their own happily-ever-after.”

  “But Mother did get her very own happily-ever-after. She’s still wildly in love with my father.”

  “Wildly in love is most unseemly.” Viola’s eyes turned chilly. “I do not intend to go through such nonsense again with you, which is why I’m going to expect you to discontinue with your novel reading and pursue something more practical, such as painting. I’m also going to demand that you discontinue associations with questionable sorts, and—”

  “I’m not particularly fond of demands.”

  Viola ignored her, although she seemed to begin counting under her breath, quite like Mr. McAllister had done earlier. After a good twenty seconds passed, Viola cleared her throat. “As I was saying, I will not tolerate you surrounding yourself with misfits or questionable sorts. The dowry I’ve settled on you is quite sizable and might even have to be increased after tonight’s debacle. But because of the fortune I’m prepared to give away to the suitable gentleman I know is out there for you somewhere, I won’t stand back and watch you squander what should be a brilliant opportunity simply because you seem to possess the same willful and stubborn attitude as—”

  “You’ve settled a dowry on me?” Poppy interrupted, leaning forward on the stool, even though doing so left her head stinging because Alice had been trying to press the tiara back into her curls.

  Viola waved that aside with a flick of a diamond-encrusted wrist. “I’ve no idea why you would be surprised to learn that. Surely you didn’t think I would bring you out for a New York Season without taking proper steps to assure you’d enjoy some type of success, did you?”

  “You never mentioned anything about a dowry.”

  “Well, now you know, although I’m surprised you never considered the matter before since it’s a common practice for young ladies of good standing to have their families settle a dowry on them to guarantee a most splendid match.”

  Poppy tilted her head. “Father has every intention of giving me a large portion of the land that surrounds Garrison Farms in Pennsylvania, now that he’s moving the bulk of our business to Kentucky. We own thousands of acres in Pennsylvania, and those acres can certainly be considered a dowry of sorts. That means I have no need of the dowry you’re evidently keen to settle on me—one that will assuredly have all the fortune hunters pursuing me in earnest.”

  Viola brushed that aside. “An aging horse farm or the land that encompasses that farm is not a proper dowry, and I wouldn’t worry about fortune hunters, Poppy. The type of wealth I’m willing to give to a future husband of yours is enough to intimidate men incapable of earning their own fortunes, although . . .” Her gaze turned rather distant. “I do have high hopes that your dowry might entice a few gentlemen in possession of aristocratic titles. I’ve always longed to enjoy a Season in London, and if you were to capture the attention of an aristocrat, that would be quite the feather in both of our caps.”

  Poppy resisted the urge to rub her suddenly aching forehead. “How is an aristocrat intent on procuring himself a fortune to shore up his estates any different than an American fortune hunter?”

  “He’s in possession of a title, of course, and then, well, British aristocrats do have that most delicious m
anner of speaking.”

  “You have a proclivity for British accents?”

  “I must admit that I do.” Viola’s gaze sharpened on Poppy’s face. “You seem surprised by that, dear.”

  Knowing better than to admit to a determined grandmother that she too enjoyed British accents, Poppy shrugged. “I suppose there is something charming about the manner in which Englishmen speak, although I have no desire to set my sights on an aristocrat.” She shuddered. “I hate to think about all the rules that I would be expected to obey if I married one of those. You must have realized by now that I’m not always keen to follow rules.”

  Viola’s lips pursed. “That hasn’t slipped my notice. But returning to what we were discussing before—that being getting you firmly ensconced within the fashionable set.”

  “Was that what we were discussing before?”

  “You’ll need to form proper friendships with the right members of the New York Four Hundred,” Viola continued as if Poppy hadn’t spoken. “To assist you with that, I’ve already arranged a lovely tea for you. You’ll be joined with ladies I feel are above reproach: Miss Adele Tooker, Miss Edith Iselin, and Miss Cynthia Roche.”

  “Miss Roche barely spoke to me the other day while we were practicing the Gypsy Quadrille, and Miss Tooker was rude to Mr. Middleton when he merely inquired if her family had any special plans for the holiday season.”

  Viola opened her mouth but was interrupted from replying when a brisk knock sounded on the retiring room door. A second later, the door opened and Miss Beatrix Waterbury stepped into the room, looking lovely in an ivory gown, her vivid red hair arranged in a most charming fashion, although the tiara she was wearing was half the size of the one Viola had insisted Poppy wear.

  Beatrix Waterbury was considered one of the great American heiresses of the day, but she was not a lady who put on airs. She was also fast friends with Miss Isadora Delafield, or rather Mrs. Ian MacKenzie since she’d recently married. That was a mark in her favor since Poppy was acquainted with Isadora as well. That acquaintance was what had led Beatrix to immediately seek out Poppy after she’d learned Poppy was residing in New York, and her warm air and genuine offer of friendship had been greatly appreciated.

  “Do forgive me for interrupting,” Beatrix began, nodding in Viola’s direction. “Mrs. Kruger asked me to seek you out because the Earl of Lonsdale is eager to become introduced to Poppy.”

  Viola’s eyes immediately began to sparkle. “How encouraging. He’s eager to meet my Poppy, is he?”

  Beatrix smiled. “He didn’t state that to me when I was introduced to him, but I don’t imagine Mrs. Kruger would have told me that if it weren’t true.”

  “You’ve already been introduced to Lord Lonsdale?” Viola asked, the sparkle in her eyes dimming ever so slightly.

  “I have, although there’s no reason for you to look disgruntled about that, Mrs. Van Rensselaer.” Beatrix’s smile turned into a grin. “Once the earl discovered I’m somewhat spoken for, he wasn’t as keen to pursue a conversation with me, evidently determining that would be a clear waste of his time in New York.”

  Viola frowned. “Did I miss a formal announcement regarding you being spoken for, Miss Waterbury?”

  Beatrix gave an airy wave of her hand. “It’s no secret that Mr. Thomas Hamersley and I have been friends since he was in short pants and I was in short dresses. And while there’s not been a formal announcement, nor will there be for the foreseeable future, I find it prudent to allow gentlemen to know that I’m not actively seeking a husband. It tends to help negate any troublesome misunderstandings with gentlemen who are searching for brides.”

  Poppy rose to her feet, thanked Alice for setting her hair to rights, then turned to Beatrix. “May I assume Lord Lonsdale has come to America in order to secure himself a wife?”

  “Of course he has—or rather to secure himself an heiress,” Beatrix amended. “But don’t let that discourage you from becoming acquainted with him. He seems to be a charming man.”

  “Then we mustn’t keep him waiting,” Viola said firmly, rising from her chair to take Poppy’s arm. “Remember to smile, dear, and for goodness’ sake, don’t tell him the story about the duck.”

  In a blink of an eye, Poppy was steered rather forcefully out the door, Beatrix following behind. Viola paused for the briefest second after they entered the ballroom, but then she pulled Poppy forward, muttering instructions out of the side of her mouth that Poppy couldn’t understand.

  Bringing her to a stop next to a gathering of young ladies, Viola gave Poppy’s arm a squeeze right as Mrs. Kruger stepped in front of them, a gentleman on either side of her.

  To Poppy’s concern, one of the gentlemen turned out to be Mr. Blackburn. He was once again watching her closely, the intensity of his gaze leaving her flustered and causing her to miss half of the introduction Mrs. Kruger was already performing.

  Not appreciating the subtle shove her grandmother suddenly gave her, Poppy took two steps forward but found herself stumbling over something that felt remarkably like a stick. With a bit of a shriek, she went plummeting toward the floor again, saved from yet another nasty tumble by none other than the rather brooding Mr. Blackburn.

  Chapter 3

  “I don’t expect you were anticipating a lady stumbling into your arms twice in one evening, but I do appreciate your quick reflexes, sir.”

  As Mr. Reginald Blackburn set the seemingly mishap-prone Miss Poppy Garrison away from him, then helped her find her balance when she immediately began to wobble, he struggled for some manner of polite response, although what type of response he could possibly give was quite beyond him at the moment.

  He thought he’d been prepared to deal with American ladies, whom Bertie, the Prince of Wales, had told him were overly exuberant at times, but nothing could have prepared him for the unusual experience of dealing with a young lady like Miss Garrison.

  To his relief, Miss Garrison did not seem to expect a response from him because she suddenly seemed to realize her bustle was askew. Reaching behind her, she began trying to tug the bustle back into place, evidently unconcerned that trying to set herself to rights in the middle of a society event was not something guests were accustomed to seeing.

  Poor Mrs. Kruger, the sponsor of the Family Circle Dancing Class, seemed to have been rendered speechless as she gaped at Miss Garrison, a concerning circumstance since Reginald had been hoping that lady would step forward and break the uncomfortable silence that had settled around them.

  Glancing to his cousin, Charles Wynn, the Ninth Earl of Lonsdale, who could normally be counted on to save a situation when it turned uncomfortable, Reginald noticed that Charles was currently gazing at Miss Garrison with a dazed expression in his eyes. That expression suggested it was highly unlikely his cousin would be the one to break the awkward silence.

  It wasn’t that Reginald could say he blamed Charles for sporting a dazed expression because Miss Garrison, even with her propensity for unusual mishaps, was a lady who drew a man’s notice.

  She was above average height, but instead of being overly thin and willowy, she possessed a most impressive figure—something he could personally attest to since that figure had been pressed up against him twice in the past hour. Her delightful curves were displayed to perfection in the brightly colored gypsy costume she was wearing, the unusual colors of her costume complementing skin that was not the pale white he was accustomed to seeing. Instead, her skin appeared to be sun-kissed, lending one the impression that Miss Garrison was a lady who spent more than the average time outdoors. Her hair was a rich shade of gold, mixed with lighter strands that suggested she often went without a hat, but it was her face that held a person’s attention.

  She wasn’t what one would consider a classic beauty since she did not possess the delicate features that were currently in fashion, but there was something almost mesmerizing about the way the features she did possess were arranged on her face.

  Her eyes, a peculiar sha
de of cobalt blue, were unusually large and rimmed with dark lashes that were at distinct odds with her golden hair. Her brows were finely sculpted, as were her cheekbones, and her nose was slim and had just a hint of a tilt to it. Her lips were a perfectly normal shade of pink, but there was something about the fullness of her lips that lent her an air of mystery, while the creases at the very corner of those lips gave one the impression she smiled often and enjoyed life to the fullest.

  “It looks to me, Miss Garrison, as if you could use some assistance, which I am only too happy to provide. May I suggest we repair to the retiring room in order to afford you the privacy I’m sure you’ve simply neglected to realize you need?”

  Pulling his attention from Miss Garrison, who was now emitting what sounded like grunts as she struggled to beat her bustle back into place, Reginald settled his gaze on the young lady who’d just stepped up to join them, Miss Adele Tooker.

  Miss Tooker had been one of the first ladies presented to his cousin, an introduction Charles had certainly enjoyed because Miss Tooker, from what Mr. McAllister had whispered to Reginald as Charles had been kissing the lady’s hand, was most sought after this season. She was a lovely lady, possessed a classically beautiful face, and, more importantly, possessed a sizable fortune. She was also, according to Mr. McAllister, enthralled with the aristocracy, and given the way she’d fluttered her lashes at Charles, it had been clear that Miss Tooker would not be opposed to becoming better acquainted with an honest-to-goodness earl.

  Ladies such as Miss Tooker, those overly anxious to acquire titles in exchange for the large dowries their fathers settled on them, were exactly why Reginald’s father had insisted Reginald accompany his cousin to America.

  Charles, although a jovial and charming gentleman, was not what one would consider an overly intellectual sort. He’d only recently inherited his title, along with numerous estates from his father, who, sadly enough, had not been an intellectual either and had woefully neglected the family finances and estates. Because of that neglect, Charles was in desperate need of funds and had decided that to save his family from certain ruin, he’d have to marry extremely well.