Courting Claudia by Robyn DeHart Page B

wouldn’t let you kiss him. Except pure meanness.”
    â€œI don’t think that’s it, Poppy. I think he was affronted that I even attempted it. I think the thought of kissing me repulses him.”
    Poppy smacked her hands onto her lap. “Well, that’s simply ridiculous. And even if it were true, then it’s a testament to how wrong Richard is for you.”
    The carriage rocked to a stop, which was perfect timing because there was no reason to discuss Richard with Poppy. Her friend would never approve of the match.
    â€œI suppose that means we’re here,” Claudia said, eyeing the carriage door.
    â€œYes, I suppose it does. Are we going to get out?”
    Claudia put her hand on the door, then stopped. “If my father knew about this, he would kill me.”
    â€œIf you always did as your father instructed, your life would be dreadful. I’m here with you. I realize that doesn’t offer you much of a buffer, considering he doesn’t exactly approve of me, but it’s only an art exhibit.”
    â€œI don’t know, Poppy.”
    â€œCome on, it will be fun.” Poppy stepped down from the carriage and began climbing the steps to the town home.
    Claudia quickly followed Poppy up the stairs,then handed their invitation to the butler who opened the door.
    â€œThe ballroom is on the second floor,” he said in a severely nasal tone. “That is where the majority of the paintings are hung.” He took their cloaks. “You will also find some hanging in the drawing room, the study, the library, and the billiard room.”
    Claudia shivered from the lack of her cloak; the cap sleeves of her pale pink dress barely covered her shoulders. She and Poppy climbed the wide staircase. Poppy stopped in front of the marble statue on the landing. It was a man. A naked man—holding a lute or some sort of string instrument. Claudia felt her cheeks warm, so she quickly averted her eyes, only to find Derrick standing behind them.
    â€œLadies, I’m glad you could come,” he said.
    Poppy turned and greeted him.
    He kissed both their hands, lingering a little longer on Claudia’s—which pleased her.
    â€œTell me, Mr. Middleton, who are these artists?” Poppy asked. “Claudia couldn’t remember.”
    â€œThey call themselves the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. I’ve known one of them since he was a scrap of a kid. I went to school with his older brother.”
    â€œPre-Raphaelite Brotherhood,” Poppy repeated. “That’s quite a name.”
    â€œYes, well, they fancy themselves as anarchists against the Royal Academy. They’ve only just formed their group, and this is their first showing.”
    He led them to the ballroom where they began their tour. A variety of paintings hung from the walls and sat upon easels for display. There were only a handful of people in the room. Claudia recognized a few, but wasn’t certain of their names. A young man with wavy blond hair waved at Derrick, then walked toward them.
    â€œDerrick, who are these two lovely ladies?” he asked.
    â€œAlistair Lambeth, may I present to you Miss Claudia Prattley and Lady Penelope Livingston.”
    â€œWhat a pleasure.” Alistair kindly bent over each of their hands, but his hazel eyes remained fixed on Poppy.
    â€œAlistair here is one of the painters in the brotherhood,” Derrick said.
    â€œYes, well, we must do what we must for our art,” the young man replied. “Lady Penelope, might you allow me to escort you around the ballroom? I could give you some background details on the paintings.”
    It was rare for a man, no matter how charming and attractive, to make Poppy blush. But there it was, just a hint of color blooming in her cheeks.
    â€œI would like that very much,” she said.
    â€œIt is a pleasure meeting you, Miss Prattley.”
    Claudia nodded and smiled at him as he led Poppy away. “He