firm. It seems idiotic not to when there is no doubt that he will wed upon his return.’
Poppy’s heart sank. ‘Has he said so in any of his letters?’
‘Not in so many words. But, reading between the lines, I should say he’s anxious to get back. That can only mean he’s missing his fiancée. And why not? She’s such an angel, and they’re such an appropriate match … for both our families.’
Aunt Phoebe flashed a concerned glance at Poppy, trying to read her reaction.
‘In what way is it such a good match?’ asked Poppy, uneasy at this information.
‘Because they are both good and kind people. And for no other reason than because our two families are inextricably linked financially.’
‘Forgive me a moment,’ Aunt Phoebe said, tactfully rising from her seat. ‘I’ll go and see what Esther is up to. I have an awful feeling she will make a dog’s dinner of the roses, unless I show her how it’s done. And Poppy hasn’t seen them yet, have you, my dear?’
‘No, Aunt.’
For a few long seconds after Aunt Phoebe had left the room, Poppy and Bellamy were stuck for words. She smiled at him unsurely, the similarity in his looks poignantly reminding her of Robert. If only it was Robert sitting there looking at her so covetously.
‘It’s a foul night outside,’ he said at last, stymied for more stimulating conversation. ‘Had it been fine and dry, I would have ventured to ask if you’d care to take a walk with me.’
‘I would have to ask Aunt Phoebe’s permission first, Bellamy,’ she responded.
‘Actually, the flowers were intended for you, Poppy, but I could hardly not include Aunt Phoebe.’
‘Oh, it’s good of you to include her. She’s the one who deserves them, not me.’
‘I … enjoyed your company enormously on Saturday night, Poppy. Our dancing together. Our chat.’
‘So did I.’
‘There’s a refreshing frankness, a candour about you that seems to be lacking in other girls I’ve met. You have no airs and graces, yet you are all graciousness. Besides which, you’re such fun and so easy to talk to.’
‘It’s good of you to say so.’
‘Not at all …’ He paused, looking self-consciously at the patterns in the burning coals. ‘I wrote to you, you know …’
‘When? I never got a letter.’
He laughed with self-derision. ‘I know. I threw the damned thing in the fire. I felt it better to come and ask you face to face.’
‘Ask me what?’
‘Oh … Ask if you would care to accompany me on a drive … On Sunday. After dinner, perhaps? Always assuming the weather is not too inclement. It would give me the greatest personal pleasure if you would consent …’
‘That would be very nice, I’m sure, Bellamy. But I must ask Aunt Phoebe first.’
‘No, no, Poppy. If you are agreeable – and it seems you are – then I will ask Aunt Phoebe. It’s my place to ask.’
‘All right,’ she said brightly. ‘But where will we go?’
‘Anywhere you’ve a fancy. Do you have a fancy for anywhere in particular?’
‘From my bedroom window I can see the Clent Hills. They look ever so green and inviting now spring is just around the corner. So different from the filthy drabness of the slag heaps and the sooty sky. I’d love to go there, just to see what it’s like. If it’s not too far.’
Aunt Phoebe returned at that, carrying a cut-glass vase containing the arrangement of roses. ‘There. Aren’t they beautiful, Poppy? Intended primarily for you, I suspect.’ She looked benignly but knowingly at Bellamy.
‘Aunt Phoebe …’
‘Yes, Bellamy?’
‘Aunt Phoebe … Do I have your permission to take Poppy for a drive on Sunday afternoon? She is quite agreeable to the suggestion, so long as you give your permission.’
Aunt Phoebe turned her gaze on Poppy. ‘If Poppy is of a mind to accompany you, then I have no objection.’
‘Thank you, Aunt Phoebe. Thank you. Shall we say two o’clock on Sunday, then, Poppy?’
Poppy grinned, complimented by his attention. ‘Yes. Sunday.’
The following evening, while Aunt Phoebe was instructing Poppy on the lineage of the Stuarts, another admirer paid a visit.
‘My dear Cecil!’ Aunt Phoebe greeted when he was shown into her sitting room. ‘How lovely of you to call and see us, it being only last Saturday that we saw you last.’
Captain Tyler chose to remain indifferent to his cousin’s mild sarcasm, realising what she was implying. ‘Good evening, Phoebe. And good evening to you, Miss Silk. I came to thank you both for the wonderful party the other evening. A splendid do.’
‘So you enjoyed it. Pray, do sit down, Cecil. Let me offer you a drink. Would you like tea?’
‘I’d prefer something stronger if you have it, Phoebe. You know me.’
‘Whisky?’
‘Whisky’s fine. Thank you.’
Aunt Phoebe smiled, glad of the opportunity to get out the whisky bottle a little earlier than she normally would.
‘Poppy, would you be so kind as to pour Captain Tyler a glass of whisky, please? And I’ll have a small one myself.’
‘Of course, Aunt,’ Poppy replied biddably, and stepped over to the drinks cabinet.
‘Poppy and I were just discussing Charles the Second,’ Aunt Phoebe said conversationally.
‘Then no doubt she will be glad of some relief,’ Captain Tyler replied dryly. ‘Shall you partake of a little whisky yourself, Miss Silk?’
Poppy looked up at their guest and smiled politely. ‘I seldom drink spirits, Captain Tyler.’
‘I don’t blame you. Ruins the complexion, drinking spirits. And you, my dear Miss Silk, have a fine complexion that is far too precious to ruin. Has she not, dear Phoebe?’
‘I had such a complexion myself when I was younger.’
‘Would you like water in that, Captain Tyler?’ Poppy asked, holding the glass up to show him.
‘Oh, indeed not, thank you, Miss Silk. I’ll take it as it comes. Neat whisky doesn’t scare me, you know.’ He grinned affably. ‘Comes from years of drinking gallons of dreadfully dubious liquors, veritable firewaters – especially in Ireland.’
Poppy handed him his glass and
