Page 82 of The Wallflower Takes All

She looked down at the untouched tray, then toward the salon, where Lady Viva’s laugh rose in answer to something Lord Crampton had said.

“My mother will think this is an excellent idea,” she said.

“That is concerning.”

“She will say drives are useful because fresh air makes men foolish.”

“She may not be wrong.”

Poppy’s gaze returned to his and the air between them shifted again, warm with all the things he had no business wanting.

Gabriel cleared his throat. “I can have a curricle brought round within the hour.”

She studied him, clearly trying to determine what sort of madness had taken possession of him.

He wondered the same.

“I should not,” she said.

“No.”

“It is imprudent.”

“Likely.”

“And not at all useful.”

“I would not go that far.”

“Oh?” Her brows lifted. “Do tell me what is useful about Hyde Park.”

He shrugged. “It may improve your spirits.”

The words came out before he could stop them. They were too honest, too intimate.

Poppy’s expression softened, and Gabriel felt the change in her as a physical pressure.

“That,” she said quietly, “is not the job of a solicitor, to improve my spirits.”

“No,” he admitted. “It is not.”

From the salon, Lord Crampton said something about widowhood being a lonely estate. Lady Viva replied that loneliness depended entirely upon the quality of one’s callers.

Poppy closed her eyes briefly, then opened them. “Very well,” she said.

Gabriel’s heart gave one hard, inexplicable thump. “Yes?”

“Yes, Mr. Ashby. I will drive with you in the park.”

He bowed because it was safer than smiling. “Then I shall return within the hour.”

He turned toward the door before he could do something else reckless, such as look pleased.

“Mr. Ashby?”

He paused.

She stood beside the table with the untouched cakes, the folded newspapers, and the cup of tea intended for another man. Her smile was faint now, but no longer false.