In other words, the evening was perfect. The seven years of education in Welkland had paid off. Not a single person in the room could deny it.
The party was in full swing, having started with the Montrose majordomo announcing Poppy’s parents, Richard’s parents, and then, finally, Poppy and Richard. She had glided down the staircase, nose held high, gloating at the dismay and envy on the faces of the ladies.
Poppy and Richard stood side by side at the front of the room, greeting every guest, fielding their well-wishes, and occasionally posing for a photograph with them.
After what seemed like an eternity, Richard released her arm. “I need to freshen up, but please, stay here and enjoy yourself. I’ll return as soon as I can.”
After he left, Poppy went to check the dining hall. Once she’d ensured that the placeholders had been laid out exactly per the seating schematic she’d created, she made her way back to the ballroom. As she passed a gaggle of Welkish women, her name caught her ear. She paused, pretending to flag down one of the caterers as she eavesdropped.
“The Sutherland girl. He’s only marrying her because her father is the viceroy,” one of them said, derision dripping from her voice.
Poppy frowned. She’d known that her engagement would provoke envious slander, but she’d assumed that the jealousy would stem from the fact that Richard had chosen her over one of them. This rumor, however, seemed to imply that the person she was, the person she had become, was unworthy of his choice. Nothing could be attractive or desirable abouther, because she was Virian.
One of the Virian caterers had seen her raise her hand and had swiftly reacted. She wanted to wave him off, but it was too late?—he’d already reached her.
“She obviously doesn’t realize it,” another woman tittered. “Did you see how she was holding herself? Like she’s someladyjust because she got exiled to Welkland for a few years.”
Poppy cringed at the derision toward her lack of a title.
A third voice piped up. “I heard His Grace thinks she’s changed. That she’s civilized now.”
“Of course he thinks that,” the second woman said. “He’s too proud to admit that he made an error by adopting her, so he insists on carrying on this charade. Personally, I’m shocked that Captain Montrose is willing to play along with it. I always thought the Montroses to be honorable.”
“Captain Montrose is a man of solid judgment,” the third woman said. “Perhaps she truly has changed, if he’s chosen her to be his wife when he could have had his pick of any other woman.”
Her statement was met by a round of snickering. “I hardly believe it,” the second woman said. “You can put a saddle on a camel, but you can’t make it a thoroughbred.”
Poppy found herself paralyzed. Her hand, half outstretched to take the drink from the caterer’s tray, refused to obey her. Her gaze flickered up to his face. She hoped he hadn’t heard?—or at least had the tact to pretend he hadn’t?—but instead, he looked disgusted. When his eyes met Poppy’s, his expression shifted, but it wasn’t pity on his face. It was disdain, as though he couldn’t believe she was willingly subjecting herself to this.
Her face burned?—who was this man to judge her?
“Never mind,” she said. “I’m fine.”
He hesitated. “Are you sure?” he pressed. He picked up one of the drinks from the tray and offered it to her. “You might feel better?—”
Poppy pushed his hand away. “Thank you, but I shouldn’t be drinking right now. What I need is to find my fiancé.”
As soon as she said it, she knew it was true. Yes, she had to find Richard. She needed to hear him say that he was marrying her because he dreamed of changing Viryana together, because he wanted her by his side as he ruled the island, because she was dignified and ladylike and deserving of a place in the nobility. Not because her father was viceroy.
Poppy spun on her heel and left the ballroom, holding back tears.
• • •
Richard wasn’t in the restroom. Poppy pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to bury her face in her hands. The least he could do was be present when she needed him. She caught the arm of a serving girl. “Excuse me, do you know where Captain Montrose has gone?”
“I saw him in the west wing, Miss Sutherland,” the girl answered.
“Thank you,” she said, but the information did nothing to alleviate her agitation. The west wing didn’t have a bathroom?—only the Montrose library, and the personal offices of the men.
She released the girl and headed past the ballroom, cutting through the center of the house, past the twin staircases, until she reached the west wing.Perhaps there’s some work that Richard had to attend to,she theorized.He must have met a colleague and gotten distracted.
She entered the library, heading for Richard’s office at the back, weaving through the shelves until she reached her destination. The study door was closed, but an outline of light around the edges indicated that it was occupied. She lifted her knuckles to knock, but as she drew closer, a snippet of conversation hooked her.
“Sutherland woman?”
She froze. The voice was male, though she didn’t recognize the speaker. But when the second voice spoke, she recognized it immediately.
“It was obvious,” Richard said. “I first got the idea when the old man had his stroke. The viceroy has no male heir, see. But as his son-in-law...”
