Read Online Dukes to the Left of Me, Princes to the Right by Kieran Kramer - Free Book Online Page B

at all times, unless we’re with Drummond, of course.”
    “That’s not the worst of it.” Poppy sank onto a chair by her aunt. “Drummond says if I run and he catches me, we’ll marry that day—or live in sin until the special license comes through.”
    “Did he now?” Aunt Charlotte drawled. And then gave a little laugh. A wicked little laugh.
    “Aunt,” Poppy remonstrated with her.
    The Spinsters’ mentor sat up. “Oh, yes, that would be dreadful .”
    Poppy shook her head. “Something’s wrong. Something’s come over each one of you—”
    “I assure you, niece,” Aunt Charlotte said in her haughtiest tones. “I’ve not forgotten Sergei’s the only man who comes even close to fulfilling the requirements for you to receive dispensation from the Spinsters Club rules.” She blinked. “It’s just that Drummond falls into the category that should make every Spinster wary: he’s dangerous. A dangerous man can make a Spinster forget like that”—she snapped her fingers—“every tenet of the Spinster way of life.”
    God, she was right. Poppy simply had to think about the duke kissing her, and her Spinster knees almost buckled. Not that she would admit it out loud.
    Eleanor raised her teacup. “Never fear, Lady Charlotte. We can recite those tenets backward and forward.”
    “Our standards are so high, we’re bound to be Spinsters forever.” Beatrice clashed cups merrily with Eleanor.
    Poppy felt guilty, terribly guilty. If they only knew the truth, she thought. Dangerous men were—
    Well, they were dangerous.
    Aunt Charlotte chuckled. “I’m proud to say I had the devil of a time drawing up the latest edition of the Spinster bylaws. Lord Bimmington was blowing in my ear the whole time. And Sam-the-footman was quite leering at me. No wonder—I was wearing my teeth, of course. And that recklessly red silk gown from Milan.”
    Poppy knew the very one. It really was reckless.
    She gave her aunt a hug. “You’re the best chaperone a girl could ever wish for,” she whispered in her ear.
    And it was true, but part of Poppy felt rather wistful for a shrew of a chaperone, one who might tell her all the naughty things she’d done with the Duke of Drummond the night before would come back to haunt her—and put her plan to win Sergei in jeopardy.
    She needed reminding, and an embittered battle-ax might restore her to the lofty daydreams she’d harbored for six years about Sergei.
    “Do you think the duke really did have his uncle murdered?” Beatrice asked her in hopeful tones—and no wonder, she wrote shocking novels with an occasional dead body in them.
    “Whether he did or not,” said Eleanor, “there’s absolutely no chance he’s ever fought an octopus as large as a Royal Mail coach.” She was the artist, so her sense of proportion was impeccable.
    “Heavens, of course not, on both counts.” Although a perfectly silly part of Poppy still wondered.
    But thankfully for her fanciful imagination, not for long.
    There was a loud commotion outside and a forceful knock on the front door, followed by a demanding exotic voice and much yapping.
    Kettle came into the drawing room. “Princess Natasha and her dogs to see you, Lady Poppy,” he announced.
    She shared a surprised look with her aunt and Spinsters Club sisters. “Show them in, Kettle,” she said, not sure what to think.
    Natasha strode in, strikingly elegant in a pale green morning dress with a sheer overlay and a high, frothy collar framing her long, slender neck. Her only accessories were the two panting corgis she carried, one of whom was missing an eye.
    Poppy stood, her knees a bit wobbly. “This is indeed, um, an honor, Princess.”
    “Yes, an honor,” Eleanor echoed.
    Beatrice surreptitiously hit Eleanor’s thigh.
    Poppy moved in front of the two of them while Natasha looked about the room as if no one else were in it, even though Aunt Charlotte was staring goggle-eyed at her.
    “I had hoped for a private audience,”