“No. I was born in Santo Domingo, on Hispaniola. That’s in the Caribbean,” he added.
“I know where it is,” Poppy returned tartly. “I can read a map.”
“So you’re a lady of some learning,” he said with what sounded like heavy sarcasm to her ears.
Oh, this was not going well, Poppy thought. She set her jaw and reminded herself that Rose would appreciate a few more minutes with Norbury.
De la Guerra asked what she and Rose did to amuse themselves, and Poppy mentioned that they had a number of pursuits, from music to museums, not to mention the occasional excursion, such a planned visit to Vauxhall Gardens the next evening.
“Never been,” he said to that.
So much for a polite discussion of Vauxhall’s charms. She tried again. “He called you Captain. Why?”
“Because I have a ship, of which I am captain.” The shortness of the answer made Poppy think that she wasn’t the only person annoyed by this conversation.
“Here in London? What’s its name?”
“Her name is Agustina,” he said, suddenly warming up to the subject. “Ships are female, you know. Which only makes sense. They’re temperamental, demanding, and can lead a man to his doom. But treated well, they can offer the whole world. A fair exchange.”
“Why Agustina?” Poppy asked, ignoring a tiny thrill in her stomach when he spoke. It was probably just more irritation. He seemed like a very irritating man. “Is it a family name?”
“No, I chose it to honor Agustina of Aragón, a brave patriot who defended the city walls in battle.”
“Oh, I like that.” Poppy envisioned a woman dumping pitch on armies below, her hair gleaming in the sun.
“I thought you might, Miss St. George.”
“Did you? You just met me. How could you guess anything about what I might like or dislike?”
He shot her a sidelong glance, then said, with no trace of humor, “I hope you like protecting those who need it.”
Chapter 10
“Where is Poppy?” Rose asked Lord Norbury as they stepped past a cloud of lilac aroma on the way out of the cut flower garden.
“She’s near those tall trees on the north side of the yard, walking with Mr. de la Guerra. They do not appear to be at odds, and no one has drawn a weapon yet.”
“Well, that’s something,” Rose said. “Poppy does tend to scare off gentlemen.”
“She may find him more difficult to intimidate than most. Here’s that bench under the chestnut tree. Have a seat, Miss Blake.”
So they sat in the back garden of the house, under the dappled, light shade of a tree just leafing out, and Rose could feel the sun’s warmth seeping through the branches. She knew the servants were no doubt keeping a very close watch on the garden from a window of the house, but she didn’t mind, because it was a small victory just be able to spend a little time without a chaperone hovering.
Then again, Lord Norbury was being extremely careful, even bringing along another person to help populate the area. Aloud she said, “People call you a rake, but it’s not quite accurate, is it?”
“You wound me, Miss Blake. Next you’ll be saying I’m a pillar of society.”
“Never that,” Rose promised. “I just meant that your reputation is, well, a little simplified.”
“Go on. This conversation is taking a fascinating turn.”
“You’ve had…affairs,” she said, the very term feeling transgressive to speak out loud.
“Dozens,” he admitted, sounding quite complacent about it.
“But an affair…well, it’s a matter between you and the lady.”
“You’d be surprised at how often the husband has an opinion,” he corrected.
