chair.
“Poppy, look at me.”
She did not.
“Then shout at me… Blame me for my idiocy. Anything.” He cursed and tried to come near, but she hissed between her teeth with such vehemence that he stopped. “I’ve done you a terrible wrong,” he said. “Have a proper go at me. In truth, I would welcome it.”
She made a sound that might have been amusement but had too much anger behind it. “I’m certain you would.” She brushed back a stray wisp of hair with a steady hand, then straightened a pillow, looking anywhere but at him, and he wanted to punch something, wanted her to punch him, as he deserved. But her voice grew composed. “You were tricked by something far more devious than yourself. You hadn’t a chance once Isley got his claws into you. What more is there to say?”
That he was a hypocrite? That he’d put their family in danger because of his selfishness? Winston had a dozen self-recriminations, and it irked him that she wouldn’t address a one. Instead, she retreated behind that shell of hers, where no one could see her pain or rage. Just as she always did. No matter what occurred, Poppy was an entity unto herself, and he was the one on the outside.
Chapter Thirteen
Poppy slipped from the cabin and made her way below decks. Shortly after their argument, Win had left. God, she did not want to think of him now. She refused to think of him, or her child. For if she did, she would be screaming. Her life with Win had been manipulated? Her child’s fate in Isley’s grasp?
Blood filled her mouth from the force of biting her lip. She swallowed the metallic taste down with a curse. How dare Isley? She thought Win an exiled son of a duke. When really he’d given it all up for her. Her? At the cost of his soul, of their child’s. Black hate filled her vision as she made her way to the ship’s rear stairwell. Isley would pay.
She would search the ship, starting from the bottom. The demon had fled there, and Poppy had to believe that he was one of Isley’s minions. The change from first class to second was subtle. The decor, while not as ornate, was still fine, lovely even. There was simply less open space and more people. They moved about, bustling to the large dining hall or to the game rooms, library, or second-class promenade. If anything, the feeling of excitement was somehow amplified here, for these people viewed this short voyage as an event, the holiday of a lifetime.
Unlike the shift from first to second class, descending into third class was like entering another world. Gone were the fine wood paneling, the wide halls, and plush carpeting. Her boot heels clicked against bare wood floors as she moved in and out of shadows, as the lights were spaced farther apart. It was noisier here too. The hum of the engines was more prevalent lower down, and the chatter of passengers echoed off of the bare walls. Someone was singing. An accordion wheezed and spat out a tune, and then a fiddle began to play along.
People moved through the tight spaces in droves, brushing her shoulders as they went about their business. Isley would relish this environment. Like most demons, he loved nothing better than to be around humanity. Their vitality gave him energy. Following the sound of the music, Poppy found herself in the dining hall, a Spartan place with whitewashed walls and wooden chairs pushed against them. Women chatted in groups of two or three, while the men gathered in larger clusters. Laughing children darted like minnows around the adults. Not a surprise to see them up and about. This was a holiday for them as well.
Lively music filled the air, and the floors shook with the beat of dancing feet. The men and women crowding the space had formed a circle around a group of dancers in the center of the room.
One dancer in particular garnered much attention. A spritely woman, no higher than Poppy’s shoulder, twirled and leapt. Kicking up her feet to the fast rhythm, she held the men in thrall and made most women smile. It was hard not to when she carried such joy in her expression, her rounded cheeks pink with exertion and her eyes flashing. She had no partner; she did not need one. There was no question that her skill on the dance floor was unparalleled. Poppy