The happy expression on Poppy’s face evaporated in an instant. Her hand slipped down, and she touched Francis’s palm. Their fingers softly entwined. “Francis and I have no secrets. Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of him.” She drew in an audible breath. “Papa isn’t coming, is he?”
Her voice broke on that last word, as did Francis’s heart. Hadn’t her selfish father made Poppy suffer enough?
“No, he is not. He is chasing a new contract in Singapore, after which I understand he will be remaining in Ceylon. He sailed just before we left. I asked him to at least write a letter for you, one I could personally deliver, but he said no. I must confess, I do not understand the man,” replied the captain.
Francis gave Poppy’s fingers a reassuring squeeze. Neither do I. But I am here for you.
She released her hand. “No, but I for one do understand my father—only too well. Thank you, Captain Lewis. Please excuse me; I have to finalize an urgent contract proposal. It was good to see you safely arrived. You should come to supper with us tomorrow night.”
A confused Francis followed Poppy back to number twelve. Once inside, he braced himself, unsure of what was to come next. Tears. Rage. Or the silence of desperation. Poppy had seemed so utterly resigned to yet again being failed by her father.
Whatever she needed, he was determined to be there for her.
“We should get this proposal delivered to the superintendent’s office.” She picked up the papers and gathered them into a pile.
“Poppy?”
Her hands stilled. “I should have told you about the Tarragona. I didn’t because I had to be absolutely sure about you before I did. It’s not good business to go telling your competition that you own a large ship.”
She had retreated to the safety of another subject. Anything to avoid talking about her father.
Francis went along with it. “Can I assume that the Tarragona is the ship we are putting up for the spice contract? It makes more sense if it is. I couldn’t work out your numbers, but that’s because I thought you were talking about the other boat. The Empress Catherine.”
“The Empress is a pretty boat, but no, she was never going to be used for the bid. I won’t have her for much longer. She is moored downriver while a potential new owner takes a good look at her.”
Poppy was selling the lion ship.
“You would really sell her? I can’t believe it.”
“She will always be the boat of my heart, and I shall miss her. But she will fetch a good price. One which will give me the capital to set up properly in London.”
The proposal papers dropped to the desk and Poppy screwed her eyes shut. How many times had this happened in her life? She had made plans based on her father’s promises, and he had let her down.
“Though if we are to marry, the money, along with everything else, won’t be mine. It will be yours.”
With slow, measured steps Francis came to Poppy. He bent and kissed her softly on the lips. “My love. I know you are hurting. Your father has betrayed you yet again.”
Her glassy eyes met his. “George Basden has failed me for the last time, but oddly, I feel relieved. He can’t disappoint me anymore. Why? Because this time, it’s different. I have you. I am not alone. And I never will be again. Oh, Francis, promise me that you won’t ever leave.”
“I swear I will be by your side until the day I draw my last breath. I love you. My word is my bond.”
She was pinning her whole future on the promises of a man. Not her father, but still, another male who could fail her. Francis was determined that with him it would be different.
“Francis, would you be open to a proposal?”
His brows lifted. He was the man; men were the ones who proposed. Poppy sniffed back her tears. “Not that sort of proposal. Though I am open to such an offer, if you are inclined to make one. I mean a business proposal.”
Francis was more than ready to make her an offer of marriage, but from the expression on Poppy’s face, this proposal of hers meant a great deal. His could wait for a little while longer.
We have the rest of our lives.
“Go on,” he replied.
“The money from the sale of our house in Ceylon was meant to go toward buying a house here in London. He swore on my mother’s memory that he would finally give me a proper home. Well, I am going to hold him to that promise. As an unmarried woman, and a director of the company, I still have full legal power over the ownership of the warehouse. I can sell it if I wish.”
“Right.”
“This is what I want to do. Step one: I go through with the sale of the Empress Catherine. I then lend you the money I receive. Step two: You use it to buy the warehouse from me.”
