him hers in return. He’d spoken of choices, and how hers had been taken from her, not understanding that there was a difference between choosing what was best and wanting something with one’s entire soul. She’d always wanted Win. Had she the ability to slap a sign upon him proclaiming “mine!” she would have done so.
With that firmly in mind, she maintained a neutral deportment as Mrs. Noble’s sweet voice addressed her. “What say you, Mrs. Snow? Is his tale worth it?”
“It depends,” Poppy said. “How good a trade do you offer?”
Mrs. Noble threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, I do like you two.” With a languid lift of her hand, another footman came over. “Our guests require refreshment,” she said to him, then turned her eyes back on Winston. “There are stories to be told.”
Win planted his feet and rested an elbow on his thigh, moving in that way of his that was at once precise and yet languid. A trick of movement that made one feel comfortable, beguiled into spilling secrets to a man who they were certain would not let them down. She hadn’t fully appreciated it until now. Pride shot through her, and with it, the nearly overwhelming desire to touch him, caress the silky locks of his hair, anything that would proclaim him hers.
Mrs. Noble was no less affected. Her eyes tracked Win’s movement as her bosom swelled on an indrawn breath. As if drawn by a string, she leaned into him, her lips parting in anticipation. His blue-grey eyes twinkled, a shared amusement, another ruse. Win’s smoky voice lowered intimately, and he spoke as if they were the only two in the room. “But you see, madam, I am quite… shall we say, shy about revealing this story to just anyone.” The widow’s lids fluttered at the near purr of Win’s voice. “I would much rather discuss such things in private.”
Their eyes held a beat, and then hers reluctantly slid over to Poppy. About bloody time, too. Poppy returned her look with what she hoped was a secretive smile. Win caught her eye, and he smiled too. “My wife prefers these little intimacies as well.” A cloying shade of wickedness tinted his words, and Mrs. Noble licked her lips.
Poppy valiantly held back from rolling her eyes. Really, who was this man? What had he done with her proper husband?
“Well then,” Mrs. Noble said, “shall we?” However, she paused and affected a moue of disappointment. “But I almost forgot, there is someone I believe would love to hear your tale. I’m sure you will not mind. He is most discreet.” She raised a hand, and a man moved away from his place by the mantel at the far side of the room and headed their way. The handsome younger man stopped by her side and took her hand, placing a light kiss on it.
“You summoned, my dear?” His voice was deep and smooth with the ease of a lover’s.
Mrs. Noble smiled a Cheshire cat’s smile, all teeth and malicious intent. “I did indeed.” She gave the man’s hand a squeeze. “Mr. Snow here claims to have the most interesting story to tell.”
All eyes fell on Win, and a twinge of alarm hit Poppy, for her husband had gone completely white. A fine sweat peppered his brow, and his throat worked as if he’d soon be ill. His gaze was not upon Mrs. Noble but on her companion.
Chapter Twenty-one
Poppy did not know what it was about the man that upset Winston so, but she was going to find out. She turned to Win, and his glazed eyes locked onto hers, wild and confused, as if he could not focus. “Darling,” she said, “come with me to retrieve my shawl? I find myself chilled.” It was hot as Hades.
With a little flicker of her power, an icy draft swirled through the room, causing more than one woman to shiver.
She did not wait for Win to answer but rather tugged him out of the room, down the hall, and onto the terrace where he could get some much needed air. He was shaking, his breath coming out in raw pants. The dark thing had him. She’d seen it before in others. Strong men and women who had faced death and terror and come away with a bit of it still clinging to their minds. Sometimes it never left them, that ugly residue of death. It would catch them unawares and torment them. And each and every one