Chapter Six To Hook a Husband #2
“Catherine, it must be Richard.” Poppy drew her hand back to count on her fingers. “He’s the heir of a First Family, which means that he will come into the title. He’s well regarded in society. And he has the skills and experience necessary to assist Father.”
“He’s a beast of a man,” Theodore said, his contempt surprising Poppy. “Oh, he’s charming when he needs to be, but a bully to those he deems beneath him. Prideful and arrogant, utterly backward. You could not do any worse than that preening peacock, I assure you.”
“Theo is right, Poppy,” Catherine said. “You deserve a man who will cherish you, and I am not confident that my brother is that man.”
Poppy shook her head. “I am not like you, Catherine, and you know it. I cannot afford to marry a man for love. I have no title, no male next of kin beyond my ailing father. My husband’s name will become my sole power in this society that barely tolerates me.
You did not see, last night, how they hardly spoke to me, except to cross-question me and ply me with backhanded compliments.
There are many who would be pleased if, when my father passes away, I fade away for good.
Only the best match will keep me anchored here beyond a doubt. ”
“I would keep you,” Catherine said. “I will not let them discard you.”
“Without a title, I will only be fit to be kept as a maid.” Poppy spread her arms, gesturing at her skin.
“Look at me, Catherine. It is no secret why the Imperial Family has denied me a courtesy title, even though my father is the emperor’s cousin.
The Colwick girls used to remind me every time I went to their house.
My place is at the bottom of the social hierarchy—unless I can climb to the top of the highest possible family tree. ”
Catherine’s mouth thinned.
Poppy saw the opening and pressed harder. “Please, won’t you support me?”
“He’s not a good man, Poppy.” Catherine put her face in her hands. “How can you ask me to send you in harm’s way?”
“He will not harm me.” Poppy pulled her friend’s wrist down into her lap, forcing the other woman to look at her. “If I ever feel unsafe with him, even for a second, I will drop this pursuit. I swear it.”
Theodore and Catherine exchanged a long, loaded look. Theodore’s face was hard and unrelenting, but Catherine’s shoulders softened, her resolve crumbling.
Finally, she said, “I won’t be the one to introduce you, but . . . Richard always attends the dawn service at the Marnapur Cathedral at the beginning of every month.”
“Why, that’s tomorrow.” Poppy clapped her hands together. “Excellent.”
Catherine pursed her lips. “I know I can’t change your mind, Poppy, but be careful.” She hesitated, then added, “Richard and I aren’t close for a reason. Every rose has thorns, no matter how soft its petals.”
· · ·
“Miss Sutherland? Is that you?”
Poppy swallowed her smug grin and donned a look of surprise before turning around.
Richard Montrose stood at the top of the stairs leading to the Marnapur Cathedral.
She’d made sure to sit in the first row during the service, giving him ample time to notice her.
Now, she studied him back, taking in his perfectly coiffed gold locks and neatly pressed suit.
“Why, it is you,” Richard said. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s the first of the month,” she replied, as though it were obvious. “I wanted to attend the service.”
He lifted a brow. “At dawn?”
Poppy brushed a lock of hair over her ear. “The purpose of the service is to focus our intentions for the month. I find that coming first thing in the morning is most effective. Start as you mean to go on, as they say.”
“That’s a personal philosophy of mine.” Richard’s eyes widened in approval. He came down to stand on the steps beside her. “What did you think of Founderson Harold’s reading?”
Founderson Harold had been a dead bore. Between the dawn hour and his droning, Poppy’s jaw ached from the yawn she’d repressed the entire service.
Today’s reading, a transcript of the Founder’s diary detailing his reflections on his voyage to discover new nations, had been particularly dull.
The founderson then proceeded to opine for thirty minutes straight on how each person could go on a voyage inside their own souls, and search for the spirit of giving to donate to the work that the fellowship was doing.
By the time the founderson had recited the dismissal—Go and make civilized men of all nations, just as I have made of you—she was nearly weeping for joy.
Still, Poppy enthused, “It was quite poignant. He has a certain gravitas that gives life to the Founder’s writings, wouldn’t you say?”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Richard gave Poppy a slow once-over, taking in the slim fit of her pastel-yellow dress, the shadow-spill of her long, shiny tresses over her shoulders and back.
“Forgive me for being so forward, but would you be available for dinner? Perhaps tomorrow evening? I will secure the consent of His Grace, naturally.”
Poppy dipped her head, satisfaction hidden under her show of shyness. “Of course,” she murmured. “I’d be honored.”
“Excellent.” He straightened up, swelling with gratification. “I will have an invitation sent to your house. I look forward to it, Miss Sutherland.”
“As do I, Captain,” Poppy replied, her first truth in this conversation. “Until then.”
· · ·
The following evening, Richard picked Poppy up in a silver Peregrine sedan.
He took her for a drive around the scenic parts of the city, going up into the hills.
The purple peak of the volcano, Mount Rukmini, shimmered through the haze, visible even all the way on the opposite side of the island.
Below, the cars moved like ants in the downtown core.
Even more gorgeous was the ocean, shimmering like a jewel.
From this vantage point, the boats looked like toys floating in a bath.
Richard had made reservations at Willington’s, a high-end restaurant that offered seating only to the city’s elite.
He spared no expense, ordering a tray full of tiny cheese and spinach quiches to start, followed by an entrée of tender steak, buttery green beans, and fragrant mashed potatoes that melted on the tongue.
While they dined, Richard told stories of the city from when Poppy had been absent.
Occasionally, he’d ask her a question or two, but she kept the conversation on him, digging for details that she could use in her pursuit.
Despite his earlier hesitation to speak about his work, she quickly found that it was one of his biggest sources of pride, just as much as his heritage.
He spoke at length about different raids and investigations he had led, emphasizing his refusal to take bribes the way many of his colleagues did.
“They disgust me,” he said, leaning forward. “To prioritize personal gain over one’s duty to the state? It’s corruption of the soul. There’s a reason I’m the best at what I do: Once I set my sights on something, I never compromise.”
“Never?”
“Never,” he affirmed. He let his eyes linger on her face, his gaze dropping to her mouth. In a low voice, he added, “I always get what I want.”
Poppy didn’t have to feign the goose bumps that rose on her arms.
When the main course concluded, Richard turned the conversation to her. “More wine?” he asked, extending the bottle toward her.
She shook her head, drawing her glass back an inch. If she wanted to catch a man as sharp as this one, she would need all her wits about her. “No, I’m quite all right, thank you, Captain.”
He didn’t withdraw his arm. “You don’t enjoy wine?”
“I find I enjoy the company of others more.”
Richard laughed, setting the bottle down. “You’re refreshing, Miss Sutherland. Most women would have seized the chance to drink their fill on another man’s tab.”
“Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t like most women?” Poppy lifted a brow flirtatiously.
“You didn’t have to tell me for me to know that,” Richard said.
“Not many women have studied the Founder the way you have. Oh, they all attend the monthly services, but your comprehension of his texts is far more advanced. Tell me, Miss Sutherland, what is it about the Founder’s texts that fascinates you? ”
Fascination was an apt descriptor for Poppy’s feelings about the texts, though likely not for the reason Richard thought.
Her dilemma was this: If they were a guide to replicating the Welkish utopia in Welkland’s colonies, why was Viryana suffering?
If every man had an equal right to a role in society, why had her people been forgotten in the slums—or, worse, the morgues?
Where was their place? Where were their rights?
But she couldn’t criticize her father or his ancestors on the first date, so instead, she chose a half truth: “I find myself drawn to the Founder’s conviction that all other nations of men can become equal to Welkland,” she hedged.
“I am, of course, an example of this. But so many of my brethren resist the teachings of the Founder. I took it upon myself to learn his works better so that I could enlighten other Virians, just as the Founder commanded.”
“A noble cause,” Richard said, “especially given the example you’ll set once you’re wife to the viceroy. Do you see yourself ruling by the side of your husband, then?”
It didn’t escape Poppy that this was the second time he’d asked how she intended to work with her husband. Hopefully, he was envisioning himself in the role.
She tilted her chin down, glancing up at Richard demurely. “Well, it would depend on whether he wanted me there. But I wish to be more involved than previous wives.”
Richard winked. “I don’t think there’s any man on the island who wouldn’t want you beside him, Miss Sutherland.”
Though Poppy assured him she was full, Richard insisted on ordering a three-tier stand of pastries. They couldn’t bring themselves to finish even two tiers and had to send the rest back to the kitchen. Richard handed the waiter a wad of bills without counting them and rose to his feet.
As promised, he returned Poppy to the Sutherland estate by sunset. As he helped her out of the car, she gazed up at him through her lashes. “I had a lovely time, Captain Montrose.”
He flashed her a charming grin. “It was my pleasure, truly.” He offered her his arm, and she threaded her own through his, resting her hand against his bicep. Interlocked, they made their way up the staircase. Just as Poppy was about to knock, Richard laid his hand over the knocker, stopping her.
His blue eyes met hers. “Forgive me if my directness offends you, but would you be agreeable to meeting again, sometime soon? Perhaps in two days, for luncheon?”
Poppy had to bite the insides of her cheeks to keep the satisfied smirk from blooming across her face. “The idea would be most welcome. I look forward to it.”