Poppy considered this, unsure what response would please him. She settled for a coy reply. “I am not most women, Captain Montrose.”
He winked. “I can see that.” He drew himself to his full height, pushing his chest out. “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you again, Miss Sutherland. I won’t keep you from the ladies any longer. Have a lovely evening.”
“You as well,” she said, smiling sweetly. As soon as he left the room, she let her face drop into a scowl.Thatcertainly wasn’t the desired outcome. Dinnertime niceties were an obligation, not the sign of an interested gentleman. Poppy would have to orchestrate another encounter with Richard?—and when they met again, she’d ensure he walked away wanting more.
Chapter Six
To Hook a Husband
The morning after the dinner, Poppy set out to visit the one person she had yet to see: Catherine. Despite having once been a Montrose, she’d not been invited to last night’s dinner on account of her husband’s status as one of the Second Families of society. This kind of social demotion was akin to Poppy’s worst nightmare, but Catherine had insisted on Theodore, much to the disapproval of her parents, who had been determined she accept James Alderfort’s suit.
But Catherine loved Theodore, as she’d repeatedly told Poppy in her letters, and he was worth more to her than the rights accorded to a daughter of a First Family. According to her, he worked twice as hard as any heir, even those in the First Families. The Oakburys had made their living as shipbuilders in Welkland, but in Viryana, they’d expanded to logging and lumber, acquiring land and wealth. Allegedly, the Oakbury family was now as wealthy as the Alderforts.
Poppy hadn’t had the chance to form an opinion on Theodore herself, having never met him. Headmistress Thornhaven had refused to grant her leave to attend the wedding. However in the three years since, Catherine had never written anything but the highest praises of her husband in her letters.
As the driver helped Poppy out of the car, the front door flew open, and a blur of blue and blond shot down the driveway. She had barely stepped clear of the car when Catherine engulfed her in a hug.
“You’re here!” she exclaimed. “I can’t believe it.”
Catherine drew back, allowing Poppy a better look at her. She’d changed, albeit so subtly that only someone who had been away for seven years would have noticed. As a girl, she refused to put her hair up, trying to conceal what she called the “obscenely spherical” shape of her head. Now she wore her blond hair in a high bun, unconcerned about anyone noticing how round her head was. Where before she’d avoided bright colors for fear that they would draw attention to her, today she wore a bold cerulean dress that fit her generous curves well.
There were a hundred tiny different changes about her, but they all pointed back to one major difference: For the first time since Poppy had known her, Catherine was truly comfortable in her own skin.
“You’ve blossomed,” Poppy said. “I feel as though I am looking at the woman you were always meant to be.”
Catherine laughed. “I could say the same about you!” she gushed, guiding Poppy inside. Her maid brought over a tea tray, complete with a small tower of sandwiches and savory pastries. Catherine prepared Poppy’s cup for her, adding her preferred amounts of milk and sugar from memory, as though it had only been seven days since her last visit, not seven years.
“I trust that the weather has been pleasant?” Poppy asked as she accepted her teacup.
“Asking about the weather?” Catherine let her jaw drop in mock horror. “I thought Thornhaven was meant to make you an educated lady, not a bore! Did you perhaps forget your personality on the boat?”
The pair burst into laughter at the same time. “Founder above, how I’ve missed you.” Poppy sighed. “You must tell me everything. How have you been? How’s married life?”
“Oh, what kind of hostess would I be if I talked about myself?” Catherine waved her hand. “Tell me about Thornhaven. You must have so many stories. In your letters, it seemed positively picturesque!”
Poppy winced. Her time at Thornhaven had not beenpicturesque, but Catherine had been such a gentle soul at sixteen, and Poppy’s departure had broken her heart. She had been determined to put on a brave face for Catherine, unwilling to taint their limited communications with misery, knowing that she would be positively sick with worry if she’d known how horrid things really were.
But Catherine was no longer the teary, tenderhearted girl she’d once been. Even now, as the silence stretched, realization crept across her face. Slowly, Poppy said, “It was not quite as idyllic as I made it out to be. The headmistress had certain... ideas. About Virians.”
Understanding dawned in Catherine’s eyes. “Oh, Poppy,” she breathed, coming to sit on the settee beside her. “You didn’t have to pretend on my account.”
“I could hardly burden you,” Poppy protested. “I did want to tell you, eventually, but I couldn’t. I’d pretended for years, and I didn’t want you to think I was lying about the truth.”
Catherine wrapped Poppy in a hug, one that was somehow more fierce than the one they’d shared on the driveway. “Never worry about that,” she said. “You are my closest friend. I’ll always believe you. You can tell me anything, no matter how unpleasant.”
Poppy cracked a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, if we’re sharing unpleasantries, Headmistress Thornhaven was atyrant. She had more rules than the Virian criminal code!”
Catherine smirked. “I suspect she was overcompensating for some dark sin of hers. It’s often the prissiest of ladies with the worst habits. Why, I don’t think I told you this, but you know Mrs. Ravenshaw?”
Poppy’s eyebrows knit as she tried to recall. “The one who used to insist that unwed girls should not wear dresses with short sleeves at parties?”
“The very same. She was widowed just a few months ago. Her husband had a fondness for hunting tigers up north close to Jahnapur, a habit that got the best of him. She still wears the mourning black, but it’s no secret that she’s carrying on with her stable master.”
Poppy choked on her tea. “You jest!”
Catherine shook her head. “No, I’m serious!” Her smirk grew more pronounced, and she added, “I heard that he’s taught her to ride more than a horse.”
Poppy’s face burned at the lewd joke. “You’re horrid.” She sniffed, but she couldn’t restrain a snicker, which gave way to an avalanche of giggles.
