Dukes to the Left of Me, Princes to the Right

CHAPTER 38

A strong sensation of shock and fury coursed through Poppy’s frame even though she’d insisted from the very first time she’d met the duke that she wouldn’t marry him. In fact, she’d planned to end the betrothal in less than a week. Nevertheless, in the eyes of the world, they were betrothed, and from the looks of it, she’d just been royally cast off.

“What could you possibly mean, Drummond?” she demanded. “We’re engaged.”

“Yes, what’s this about, Your Grace?” Lord Derby, his face reddening, was on his feet again.

“I regret to inform you my first obligation is to the princess,” the duke said coolly. “She’s with child, and her guardian, Lord Howell, has made the claim”—he took another swig from his flask—“that I am the father.”

“You are the father, and you will pay.” Sergei jumped up again, his eyes flashing fire.

Poppy’s heart fell to her feet.

Lord Derby’s face was like granite. “I’d call you out, Drummond, if I thought I could kill you.” Poppy had never heard him so menacing.

“Don’t, Papa.” She put a hand on his arm. “Please.”

He took her hand and squeezed it. “I won’t, daughter. But it’s only because I know what he can do with a pistol. I don’t want you an orphan so young.”

Poppy’s thoughts were jumbled, and she felt hot and cold at the same time. She wished she could faint, but apparently she was too stoic to faint.

She’d been a fool. A complete and utter fool. But she wouldn’t dare show the world she was—

Brokenhearted.

Oh, God.

Was she really? Was this what a broken heart felt like? She’d trusted Nicholas with her body and allowed him to see into her soul and—

Become friends with him. More than friends.

She released Papa’s hand, stood, walked to the pianoforte, and slapped the Duke of Drummond across the cheek.

“Ouch,” he muttered, rubbing his jaw.

“I despise you, Nicholas Staunton,” she said between gritted teeth. “And I never want to see you again.”

Natasha said nothing, but Poppy saw her eyes light with amusement.

Nicholas shrugged and looked around the company. “What’s done is done.” He returned his gaze to Poppy. “I’ll go now. It’s obvious you’re not terribly … thrilled to have me here.”

She felt a stillness inside. For a split second, the veil lifted from his gaze. It became clear. Steady. She imagined she could see the old Nicholas. The true Nicholas. The one she’d come to care for.

“Demmed right we’re not thrilled!” Lord Derby pointed to the door. “Out with you, Drummond. I believe everyone should go, as a matter of fact.” He looked pointedly at Natasha and Sergei.

Natasha threw a smug look at Poppy, then went to Nicholas and tried to cling to his arm. But he dodged the maneuver by pushing off the pianoforte and taking another swig from his flask.

“Come, sister,” Sergei said. “And you, Drummond, if you know what’s good for you.”

Poppy blinked back tears. But before anyone could leave ahead of her, she turned on her heel and marched out.

Departing the drawing room before her uninvited guests seemed a paltry statement to make.

Tomorrow morning, she would leave Town instead.