She was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry. Of course it’s nothing to be happy about. Do you think that’s what happened to your friend Mateo? That during the course of a transaction, he found out something he shouldn’t?”
“That’s the core of what I want to know. But that’s not the concern now. You need to leave here, unseen. And definitely we need to establish that we haven’t just spent the last couple of hours together—alone in the dark.”
She almost laughed. “Well, when you say it like that…”
He scanned her again. “Lord, look at you. They’ll put me in chains.”
Poppy looked down at her ensemble. Her shoes were muddy. Her hem was torn, and the ribbon at her waist barely tied. She could only assume her hair and face were as ravaged. “I’m a fright. There’s no other word for it. But none of it was your fault.”
“Are you joking? All of it was my fault. How will I explain what actually happened?”
“You’ll explain nothing,” Poppy said firmly. “We’ll make sure no one knows anything happened.”
“How will you manage that?”
“I’ll go first, and you wait. If anyone sees me, I’ll say I was looking for Miss Mist. She wanders the whole house, so it would be plausible. And the mud and dirt on my dress can be blamed on the cat as well.”
“Who would believe that?”
“Servants are trained to accept the unbelievable, so long as it doesn’t threaten their livelihood. All right, I’m going. I do hope to see you at dinner, Mr. de la Guerra,” she added formally.
He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “Likewise, Miss St George.”
She wished he didn’t make her heart so fluttery. It was very distracting.
By some miracle, Poppy was able to get through the lower part of the house unnoticed, and via the servants’ stairway she got to the upper floor and dashed to the safety of her room.
In the mirror, she contemplated the wreck of yet another gown. Despite being a sturdy wool, there were rips and marks along the hem due to wandering around underground. And her slide down the rocky cliff face hadn’t helped.
Well, this would not be solved without assistance. She rang for the maid.
When Millie arrived, she looked askance at Poppy. “Miss! What have you been doing?”
“While I was out hiking along the headland, some of the ground gave way, and I fell.”
“Heavens, miss! You’re lucky you didn’t get hurt.”
“Well, I may have turned an ankle, and I do ache all over…now that I think about it.”
“You need a hot bath,” Millie declared.
A short while later, with the aid of hot, soapy water and the fussing of the sympathetic housemaid, Poppy felt much better. Her hair had been washed with lavender soap, and she reveled in the delight of being free of dirt.
The dress would require more effort. Millie took it away, saying she’d do her best to clean it, though she looked doubtful. Poppy shared her skepticism. Honestly, if she was going to keep running into Carlos, her wardrobe was in serious danger.
“What will you wear for dinner tonight, miss?” Millie asked, looking over the options. She pulled a dark green gown out of the clothes press. “This one is very pretty. With white gloves and that lace wrap, and your pearls? Yes, and let’s fix your hair up properly.”
“Oh, Millie, you’re not my lady’s maid. I can’t ask you to ignore your other duties to tend to me.”
“Nonsense. Mrs. Towers would want me to. Why did you not bring your own maid, if I may ask?”
“The answer is simple—I haven’t got one. My family’s not wealthy, and anyway, I don’t really need one day-to-day. I’m not calling on friends or attending teas. I work in my stepfather’s business.”
“That accounts for it,” Millie said.
“Accounts for what?”
“Most of the Towers’s guests can’t do a thing for themselves. Especially those Ains—er, never mind me, miss. Shouldn’t be gossiping like that.”
