Page 46 of Courting Claudia
“Alistair sent me a poem,” Poppy said as soon as they were out of earshot from her mother.
“An original?”
“I believe so. It’s not one I’ve heard before.”
“Was it any good?”
Poppy’s smile lit her face. “It was wonderfully romantic, with clever rhymes.”
“Has he been to see your father, to make his intentions known?”
“No, but I suspect he will soon.”
“I’m really happy for you,” Claudia said, then gave Poppy a brief hug before they sat at their table.
They hadn’t so much as taken their seats when Derrick walked into the room. Claudia’s heart fell to her toes. She was certain her mouth dropped open, so she brought her hand to her lips to hold it shut just in case. What could he possibly be doing here? Tea and a card party, in the middle of the afternoon? It hardly seemed the kind of thing a man would enjoy. Especially a man who took great pleasure in living the life of a rogue.
He met her eyes across the room and smiled. The connection between them sizzled. She looked over at Poppy to see if she’d noticed, but she was busy shuffling the cards.
“Poppy,” Claudia whispered.
“What?”
“Look over there.” She motioned with her head, trying not to look again in his direction.
“What’s he doing here?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
“Well, you are the most intimate with him.”
Claudia smacked her in the arm. “Not so loud. And we’re not…intimate.”
“You don’t have to say it like a curse. There’s nothing wrong with intimacy.”
Derrick leaned over an older woman and kissed her on the cheek. She said something, and he laughed heartily. The rich rumble sent gooseflesh dancing across Claudia’s arms. He asked Lady Oliver a question, and she pointed to their table.
“Goodness, why is she pointing at us?” Claudia asked.
“We shall find out soon enough; here he comes. Oh, and he’s not alone, looks like Morris Brimley will be joining us. What a positively splendid afternoon. Perhaps I can marry him.”
Claudia couldn’t help herself and giggled at the thought of beautiful Poppy shackled to a fop like Morris Brimley. “At least he’s not old,” Claudia offered.
Poppy poked her in the arm.
“Having fun without me.” Derrick clicked his tongue. “You should be ashamed.” Derrick took the seat opposite her and smiled broadly. It was a wolfish grin, as if he planned to eat her up, then lick his chops.
Ordinarily a feeling that a man wanted to devour her might not sit so well, but with Derrick Middleton, it was a nice, although inappropriate, thought.
Morris took the seat opposite Poppy. He smoothed his hair before offering a smile. “Good afternoon, ladies.” Claudia hadn’t remembered him having a lisp. “I don’t believe I’ve made your acquaintance, sir. I am Morris Brimley, Viscount Felmworth.” His face pinched as he looked at Derrick.
“Derrick Middleton, lowly son of a working man,” he said dryly.
Claudia suppressed a laugh. “He owns London’s Illustrated Times.”
Derrick shrugged in confirmation.
Morris seemed unimpressed. More than likely he had a lack of knowledge regarding London’s Illustrated Times; he didn’t seem like much of a reader.