Lord Valorous by Wendy Vella

Author:Wendy Vella
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Vella Ink
Published: 2017-03-19T18:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Poppy had risen early, bathed, and pulled on her best dress. She was pleased to be going to work at such a hospitable hour. Pleased that she would no longer have to fend off men with lecherous intentions, especially that horrid Lord Kinsale. But she was nervous about what was expected of her, and if she could fulfil those expectations. There was also the matter of Lord Hatherton. Lady Needly had told Poppy his name, and she could no longer deny he intrigued her. He had taken up residence inside her head and now seemed lodged there. She’d even dreamed of him last night.

Men did not intrigue Poppy. In fact, most often she thought them fools, but Lord Hatherton made her heart thud hard in her chest—which was why she was rude to him. Poppy didn’t know how to cope with this attraction, so she did so by being awkward. But last night she’d realized that had to stop. After all, because of him, she was about to go to work in an office that in all likelihood would be warm. He had also agreed to investigate this business with Lady Revel, and then there were the carriage rides and tea.

“You, Poppy March, are ungrateful,” she muttered, turning into Night Street. Her parents would be ashamed of her behavior.

He'd taken her home after Lord and Lady Needly had left, and dropped her on her doorstep. This time he had not attempted to kiss her, and for that she was thankful... no, really, Poppy, you were. She now wore a bandage on her fingers, and her arm was in a sling, which was extremely annoying, but she could hardly quibble with his direction that she do so, considering they had stopped aching.

Reaching the building Lord Hatherton had given her directions to, Poppy opened the door and entered. From the outside it did not look like the place several affluent lords would frequent, as it was actually rather bland and unappealing. But perhaps that was why. Hadn't Lord Hatherton told her that anonymity was important to them?

Inside was no less inviting, and actually quite plain. Perhaps she could bring some flowers tomorrow? Surely they would not upset anyone. She found a desk with a man who was scratching away over a ledger. He looked up as she approached. Tall and thin, he wore small round spectacles and had a head of gray hair ruthlessly cropped short.

“Good morning, Miss March. My name is Mr. Perkins.”

“Good morning to you, Mr. Perkins.” Poppy smiled.

“I am unsure how much use you will be to me with your arm in that sling, but please place your belongings over there,” he waved to a small cupboard, “then take a seat here beside me, and I shall attempt to teach you what the Lords believe you need to assist me with.”

Poppy's smile fell at the man's words. “It is not my writing hand, and I assure you it will not hinder me at all. I'm sorry if you did not want me here, Mr.

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