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.”
