Page 83 of The Wallflower Takes All

“Thank you,” she said.

He inclined his head.

It occurred to him, as he left the room, that he had just done precisely what he had warned himself against doing. He had stepped into the vacant place another man had left.

Not as a solicitor, not as a matter of law, but…as himself.

And the worst of it was that he could not bring himself to regret it.

Chapter Thirteen

By the time Gabriel returned to the Montfort town house with a curricle, he had identified no fewer than six reasons why offering to drive Poppy in the park had been unwise.

The first was propriety.

The second was professional judgment.

The remaining four were merely variations upon the first two, but Gabriel considered repetition useful when a man’s common sense had shown signs of desertion.

He still wore the dark coat and gray waistcoat from the office, though he had exchanged his indoor severity for gloves, hat, and an expression grim enough to suggest that proper clothing might somehow make an impulsive offer respectable.

He had acted impulsively. There was no denying it. He had seen Poppy sitting beside a tray of untouched cakes prepared for another man, her disappointment hidden beneath that valiant smile, and had spoken before prudence could intervene.

A drive in the park.

He had offered a client’s daughter a drive in the park because a prospective suitor had disappointed her.

Worse, because Gabriel himself had helped disappoint her.

He could tell himself that the outing was harmless. Hyde Park was public. The curricle was open. He had instructed his groom to attend them. Any number of respectable gentlemen conveyed respectable young ladies through the park without proposing marriage, committing scandal, or making fools of themselves.

There was no reason Gabriel could not do the same.

There was also no reason his thoughts should return, with aggravating persistence, to the open doorway and the ribbon beneath Poppy’s chin.

He drew the curricle to a halt before the Montfort town house and handed the reins to his groom.

The front door opened before he could knock.

Freddie bounded onto the step, his ears flying wide, and a length of blue ribbon trailing from his mouth.

“Freddie,” Poppy called from somewhere behind him. “No.”

The puppy descended the first step with determined enthusiasm that suggested he intended to launch himself directly beneath one of the carriage wheels.

Gabriel caught him beneath the forelegs and lifted him out of danger.

Freddie wriggled furiously, then appeared to reconsider his objections and licked Gabriel’s glove.

“You have poor judgment,” Gabriel informed him.

“Freddie considers judgment a needless impediment to happiness,” Poppy said.

Gabriel looked up.

She stood in the doorway wearing a pale blue pelisse over a white muslin gown, her bonnet ribbons tied beneath her chin and her red curls already threatening rebellion at her temples. The blue brought out her eyes so vividly that for one inconvenient moment Gabriel forgot the careful speech he had prepared about the outing being nothing more than an attempt to improve her spirits.

She looked hopeful…and cautious…as if some part of her had expected him to stay away. As if she’d expected another rejection.