Poppy
Maxine glances up. “Ms. Buchanan, hello. Enjoying your first night at sea?”
“Lovely. I have a question. Who arranged to have the gift left in Lillith McGregor’s suite? She’d like to send him a thank-you note.”
Maxine’s brow furrows. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“Roshaan said you asked her to place a small gift box in Lillith’s room.”
“There wasn’t a card with it?”
“Well, it was sort of anonymous.”
Maxine looks more puzzled. “Is everything all right with the gift?”
“Yes, it’s all fine. But we don’t know who sent it. A secret admirer, it seems. Is it common practice to put mysterious packages in guests’ rooms without knowing who they came from? What if there was something malicious in it?”
“Oh, I didn’t think it was a secret or a mystery, Poppy. I apologize for any confusion. Ms. McGregor bought his ticket—she paid for his passage. He’s part of your group. And I checked with her before leaving his gift in her suite.”
Confusion cuts through Poppy. “Part of our group? Who is?”
Maxine’s eyes flicker. Poppy can literally see her calculating whether she’s made a big blunder.
“You’re her personal assistant, right?”
“I am. And her travel companion.”
“Perhaps you should ask Mrs. McGregor directly. Again, apologies.”
Poppy hears the subtext loud and clear: If you don’t know who Lillith invited, it’s probably because she doesn’t want you to know.
Maxine quickly presses her hand to her earpiece. “If you’ll excuse me, urgent matter.” She pivots away, leaving Poppy standing there.
Her mind whirls. She turns, stares in Lillith’s direction. The man is gone. Lillith sits alone in a pool of silver moonlight.
Poppy hurries over.
“Lillith, just checking in—is everything all right?”
“Lovely, thank you.” She doesn’t suggest that Poppy join her.
“I saw you had a companion?”
“He’s gone to the gents’.”
“He—he looks nice.”
Lillith nods.
“I, uh, who is he?”
“Hendrick Lodewijk.”
Not A.G. then.
Poppy waits for more context, but Lillith offers none.
She feels at a loss, and a bit hurt. “I was wondering if you still plan to attend the Midnight Salon later? It’s nearly time. Perhaps you’d like to freshen up?”
“We’ll meet you there. Give us some time alone, will you?”
She regards Lillith in the low, romantic light.
The ocean backdrop. The path of moonlight.
But she can’t read her features. Or her one-eyed gaze.
That’s the thing about an eye patch—it conceals a lot, and Poppy is unable to ascertain whether Lillith is a bit on edge, or content, or even a bit tipsy.
“Are you sure?” Poppy glances toward the exit, hoping the mystery man will return before she leaves.
“I’m sure.” Lillith’s tone is firm.
Poppy suddenly feels put in her place as a servant.
Not a friend. Not a real companion. Not a confidante.
Perhaps Lillith has a secret male companion and is keeping everyone, including Poppy, in the dark.
Deep inside, her belly begins to ache, awakening a yearning for something she can’t even articulate to herself.
She just feels it in her bones, her blood. A longing. A loneliness.
A resentment begins to build. Toward Lillith.
Why would the woman secretly purchase a voyage for a mystery man who signs his name A.G.? And if he’s not this Hendrick Lodewijk person—who is he?
Who, exactly, is Lillith hiding it from? The world? The media? Her family? Poppy?
The resentment deepens. Poppy is supposed to keep Lillith safe. How can she do this if her charge hides things from her?
“Fine,” Poppy says flatly. “I’ll see you at Dr. Marsh’s talk then.”
She returns solo to her cabin. And to her books. Like it’s always been.
Like it always will be.