Page 16 of Brewing Up a Bad Boy

In 1790, widow Ann Kitchener took over her husband’s tea and coffeehouse on the Strand. She ran it successfully for twenty years before retiring to allow her son to take over. But it was her granddaughter Viola who first came in contact with the Earl of Winfield and his connection to Lancaster-Spencer.

While on a diplomatic mission to China, Viola’s father had heroically saved the life of a Chinese government official. He was gifted some tea and a recipe to reproduce it, which proved very popular in the family’s tea and coffeehouse. A marriage to the earl would see Viola’s family’s business merged with his. But on the eve of her wedding, she overheard him telling his investors that the long sought-after recipe was soon to be in his hands, and he’d dissolve the tea and coffeehouse her grandparents had started.

Viola confronted him, and he admitted the only reason he’d courted her was the recipe. She refused his hand, vowing that no Earl of Winfield would ever get his hands on it.

The vow had remained unchallenged until Poppy met Alistair. At the time, that first tea recipe seemed so basic and simple. Hadn’t felt flashy enough for her at eighteen. But at twenty-eight, she was starting to see the truth in simplicity when it came to tea blending. If the base was weak, the tea would be too.

Could any words be more true?

It had been almost ten years since that April morning when her dreams came crashing down around her. Confronting Alistair and learning he hadn’t been in love with her and thatI love youwas just something men said to get what they wanted... Well, that had been enough for her.

Leaving him was the best damned decision she’d ever made.

Now she was acting as his wife again to undo some of the mistakes she’d made. Would it be enough? Could she keep her emotions out of it this time?

Liberty had given her a crystal, which she’d charged over night for strength, and Sera, a handmade journal that she’d reinforced with the love and strength of their sisterhood. It meant more than Poppy realized when they’d both surprised her with the gifts at the end of the day after the shop closed.

Poppy needed to change her destiny and her attitude. She could go after any dream if she had a business plan, but her personal dreams—the ones that stemmed from wanting the kind of marriage and family she’d grown up around—seemed out of reach.

But it wasn’t going to happen until she made peace with her past and figured out how to be friends with Alistair.

She lifted a cup of tea she’d just blended for herself. Her magic courage blend. Using green tea as a base, she’d added hints of rose and calendula—a potted-plant type that included marigolds, but she was using a cutting taken from her mum’s greenhouse back in Wye, Kent, where Poppy had grown up. The tea was good, but it was going to take more than a cup to help her move on from the past.

She had to deal with Alistair. Too bad she hadn’t figured out a blend that could heal a broken heart or erase the chemistry between them.

That was asking a lot from one cup of tea. She smiled at Merle as he walked over to her where she stood behind the counter in the tearoom.

“Hey, cuz. Did you let your mom know you’re coming to the wedding?”

“No. Why?”

“My mom let it slip. She also knows that you’re going to be in England with Alistair. Just a heads-up.”

Before Merle was done talking, her phone was buzzing in her pocket. “I’m not even sorry that Liberty volunteered to watch Pickle, and you’re going to have to double up on your allergy meds.”

Merle just laughed as he walked away. Poppy answered the video call. “It’s late at night, Mum. Everything okay?”

“No. Aunt Regina Facebook messaged me that you are going to Gemma’s wedding with Alistair.”

“I was going to tell you. Why are you checking messages in the middle of the night?” she asked, walking through the shop to sit at one of the tables and talk to her mum.

“Dad’s in France on one of his walking trips.”

Mum couldn’t sleep when he was gone. “Okay, so we’re flying tomorrow. I sent you an email with the information in it.” That had been her way of putting off the inevitable.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Alistair thinks he can help me negotiate a better deal with Lancaster-Spencer. They are threatening to sue if I let Willingham distribute our tea blend.”

“Bastards.”

“Agree one hundred percent.”

“But Alistair?”

Poppy didn’t want to defend him only to be wrong again. How stupid would she look? “He offered. I’m cautious, but this time he seems different. And if I’m wrong, it’s just one week. I really don’t have the money to hire the kind of solicitor I’ll need to fight this.”

“Dad and I can help. The business is doing good. We could leverage it—”

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