Page 128 of The Wallflower Takes All

Bea’s eyes brightened.

“And,” Poppy continued, “if the conversation goes well, he wishes to speak with Mama formally.”

For once, Bea had no immediate reply.

Then she caught both Poppy’s hands. “Poppy.”

The relief in her face made Poppy’s throat tighten.

“This could solve everything,” Bea said.

“Yes.”

It was true.

Across the room, Gabriel picked up his hat but did not immediately put it on.

Poppy looked toward him. His attention moved from Caldermere to her, and some decision passed across his face too quickly for anyone else to catch.

“Leaving already, darling?” Mama asked.

“In a moment.” His voice was mild. His attention remained on Poppy. “Miss Montfort, may I speak with you?”

Poppy’s breath hitched. Surprise fluttered through her, followed by a quick, secret spark of pleasure. “Of course.”

He crossed to her, drawing her far enough away that Bea could not hear him.

His formality was perfect. The look in his eyes was troubled.

“I would ask you to give Lord Caldermere no answer until tomorrow,” he said.

Poppy’s brows drew together. “Why?”

“Because every gentleman with that much to offer ought to be examined twice.”

Her frown deepened. “You are investigating him?”

“I intend to make inquiries.”

“On my behalf?”

“Yes.”

The word settled between them with inconvenient force.

Poppy searched his face. “Is this professional caution, Mr. Ashby?”

His mouth tightened. “Some of it.”

She watched him closely. For one suspended second, the room seemed to recede: Mama and Bea, the count and his velvet coat, the cottage list, the clock pressing them all forward. There was only Gabriel, standing before her with too much restraint and too much feeling trapped beneath it.

“What is the rest?” she asked softly.

His gaze held hers. “The rest has no right to advise you.”

That answer hurt more than denial would have.

“Then why say anything?”