Page 135 of The Wallflower Takes All

Gabriel stepped closer. “Where is Lady Montague’s maid?”

“In the hall, sir.”

They moved together, argument suspended by crisis. Lady Viva’s maid waited near the staircase, twisting her apron between nervous fingers.

“Mary,” Poppy said, “when did you last see Mama?”

“Not quite an hour ago, miss. Her ladyship said she wished to lie down. She dismissed me.”

“And?”

Mary swallowed. “When I went back, she was gone. Her rose traveling cloak is missing. The small valise too.”

Poppy’s face went very still.

Gabriel looked toward Jenkins. “Was a carriage called?”

“Not by me, sir.”

“A hackney from the square, perhaps,” Poppy said. “Or?—”

Freddie leapt up against the hall table, caught the scented letter in his teeth, and tugged.

“Freddie!” Jenkins reached for him.

The spaniel yanked again. A folded sheet slipped from inside and fell to the floor.

Poppy snatched it up. The scent was unmistakably Bellarosa. The hand was not.

“It is from Mama,” she said.

Gabriel watched her read. All the color left her face.

“What does it say?” he asked.

Poppy swallowed and read aloud.

My darling Poppy,

Do not be angry. Or be angry if you must, but only temporarily, as anger is most unbecoming when permitted to settle.

I have gone to solve all our difficulties. You have been so brave, sweetie, and far too burdened by things that ought never to have been yours to carry. You shall not have to marry anyone in haste. I know precisely what I am doing.

With love, Mama.

Silence filled the hall.

Poppy stared at the note, then at the empty staircase above them.

“Gabriel,” she said, her voice terrifyingly calm, “with Mama, ‘I know precisely what I am doing’ may be the most alarming sentence in the English language.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

The note had been written on hotel paper.

Poppy did not notice at first. She saw only Mama’s looping hand and the sentence that made every dreadful possibility rush into her mind at once.

I am on my way to solve all our difficulties.