My One and Only Earl (Forever Yours #12) - Stacy Reid Page 0,14
you will truly be happy as a governess.”
“If I had another option, I admit…I admit I…I do not like to dream senselessly nor do I like dashed hopes,” she answered impulsively, stepping away from him. Being this close to James made her feel too warm. It was discomfiting because of how much she liked the sensations.
“Miss Ashford…Poppy.”
She faltered. “Yes.”
“I would like to help you.”
“Help me do what?”
“Attain your dreams.”
Poppy laughed, utterly startled by the man. “And what dreams are those,” she whispered. “I hardly know them, for I cannot afford to allow myself to dream aimlessly. What would you know of them?”
His indigo eyes darkened with unfathomable emotions. “Richard spoke of you to me quite often. Surely you would prefer to be the mistress of your own home instead of working for someone.”
“There is honor in working,” she said tightly. “Do not look down upon me because of it.”
He stepped closer. “I would not dare look down upon you…ever. But I want you to imagine this season…finding a gentleman you admire, one you can see a life of happiness with. Allow me to help.”
Her heart pounded so fiercely she wondered if he could hear her heartbeat. “And how would you do that?”
“I would provide you with a dowry of ten thousand pounds.”
“Have you gone mad?” she demanded faintly, never daring to imagine anyone could be this kind.
“Richard was my best friend, and you are his beloved sister. I daresay that makes you my sister as well.”
I am not your sister, she silently cried, painfully aware of the breadth of his shoulders, how wonderful his clothes fit, the beauty of his eyes, and his carnal handsomeness. “How would I ever repay you?”
“Nonsense. This is not a loan. It is a gift.”
She shook her head, “I…having a dowry will not make me eligible to gentlemen of the haute monde. I…”
“That is why we will work together to make you eligible.”
She choked on an incredulous laugh. “We?”
“Why do you sound so astonished?”
“What can you do to make men notice me? I am passably pretty with little to no connection—”
“You are beyond lovely,” he said with such intensity, he stole the air from her lungs. “One look in your eyes and a man will fall into a space he does not even understand but is fully aware of due to the racing of his heart, and the sensation of tumbling into something greater than himself. Your smile is one of the most radiant I have ever seen, and your hair is like a raven’s feather. Lush, vibrant, and beautiful. I dare not comment on the shape of your body in fear of appearing a scoundrel in your eyes.”
“Do you say this to flatter my vanity or because you have experience of it?” Poppy asked softly, wondering at her boldness in doing so.
He chuckled, yet his eyes were somber. “I dare not speak casually with you; however, I am not ashamed to admit your prettiness makes my heart tremble. Imagine the impact on a gentleman who is seeking a wife.”
Poppy did not miss the implication that he was not in search of a countess. Rebecca’s disappointment would be most profound.
“And if I do not succeed this season? It would be laughable to suggest at my advanced age to make a try for another season.”
“I would gift you the same ten thousand pounds.”
Poppy pressed a hand over her chest. “How would I ever be able to repay you?”
“By living happily.”
Piercingly warm and undefinable emotions swept through Poppy. “Perhaps I should just take the bank draft now.”
“If it pleases you.”
They stared at each other until the yawning emptiness which often haunted Poppy late in the nights expanded through her body. Without a companion, children, laughter, and happiness, living life alone cannot be an agreeable life to anyone. “Do you never plan to marry?” she whispered.
Surprise flickered in his eyes. “Eventually, I will marry. Just not for the foreseeable future.”
And once again, that odd twisting pain went through her. Despite her curiosity about him, she did not have the right to question him. Perhaps should they grow closer, she might ask him about it. “I know nothing about capturing the attention of a gentleman. I do not dance. I do not paint. I have no notions about flirtations.”
“I’ll teach you.”
Poppy couldn’t help smiling at him. “To dance and to flirt?”
His mouth quirked in a sensual smile. “Of course, I am a credible teacher. And we will begin our campaign tonight. We will re-enter the ball, separately, and we