I end up owning the warehouse while owing Poppy money.
“Is there a step three?” he replied, trying to get his head around her line of thinking.
“Yes. You make me a full partner in a new venture called F. and P. Saunders Shipping. This will be the company which bids for the spice contract. In time, you buy your father out of his share of Saunders Shipping and you fold the two companies in together.”
This all made sense, but marriage would invalidate some of the transactions. Once Poppy was his wife, she would no longer have her own legal identity.
“You do realize that if we marry, the loan to you won’t exist anymore. You and I will be one legal person. I can’t owe myself money.”
All loans would be extinguished, and Francis would be the owner of the warehouse, and he would have the money from the sale of the Empress Catherine at his disposal.
“Yes, and that is where step four comes in. After you give me the money to buy the warehouse, I give it back to you as my dowry, along with the Tarragona. But there is one condition that will come with my marriage settlement; my solicitor will put it in writing. And it will not be negotiable.”
Of course, there was a condition. This was Poppy—she was always one step ahead, trying to find a way to win. This time, Francis sensed he knew what she was going to say. “When everything is finalized and we are married, you want the money from the sale of the Empress Catherine to go toward a house. That’s it, isn’t it?”
Her first real home. A place where Poppy could have a garden. Where she could bake. And where they could raise a family. “Yes. Am I asking too much?”
“No, you are not. I love you. You deserve to have somewhere that you can call home, I couldn’t think of a better use of the money from the sale of the ship. I would be honored to be able to share that home with you . . . as your husband.”
Francis dropped to one knee. It didn’t matter if he didn’t become the most successful businessman in London, although with this woman as his partner he stood a good chance of succeeding.
The things which Francis saw as being important had changed. It wasn’t business, nor was it his misguided need to compete with his relatives. It was the woman standing right here in front of him.
“Poppy Basden, will you marry me?”
Chapter Forty-Five
“What do you think your mother is going to say when she discovers that in the short time since she left town, you have not only gotten yourself a fiancée, but that you have gone ahead and booked the cathedral for the wedding? Won’t she be a little ticked off?” Poppy asked, shifting her pillow.
It was early, and the morning sun had barely touched the window above their bed. Poppy’s usual habit of taking her coffee outside and watching the sun rise had recently changed. The dawn couldn’t compete with the lure of staying in bed with a naked, warm male.
Francis had moved with such uncommon haste to set the wedding date that Poppy’s head was still in a spin.
“Don’t worry. There is another family matter which will have my parents back in London very soon. But you should prepare yourself for a long list of modiste appointments and house inspections as soon as my mother gets home,” replied Francis.
He thinks shopping is a chore. I can’t wait.
They had agreed to divide and conquer over the next month. Francis would work with Captain Lewis to get the warehouses and the Tarragona ready for the newly secured spice contract. Poppy would deal with wedding preparations and finding them a house, as well as handling some of the paperwork in the business.
The future Mrs. Saunders had extracted the price of two new gowns from her fiancé as part of the naked negotiations that they’d conducted over that piece of work.
Once they were married, they would jointly manage F. and P. Saunders Shipping. Francis would concentrate his efforts on securing new contracts while Poppy would run the day-to-day side of the business. All major decisions were to be made between them by agreement.
A still half-awake Poppy rolled over and rested her hand on Francis’s chest. Her fingers toyed idly with the dusting of fine white hair before settling to draw light circles around his left nipple. The bud went pleasingly hard.
“If you keep that up, future Mrs. Saunders, I shall have to take matters firmly in hand.”
She grinned. Poppy liked nothing better than when Francis took matters in hand. Her own hand dipped below the light bed coverings, searching. She found her prize and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You are definitely getting firm, Mister Saunders. Though I suggest you might want to move if you plan on doing something about it.”
“Hmm?”
“We have a long day ahead of us.”
This morning, they were due to sign the agreement for the new spice contract, followed by a trip into central London to finalize the sale of both the warehouse and the Empress Catherine. And then later in the evening, they were hosting Will and Hattie for supper. Poppy had found a new recipe for lamb shanks she was going to try.
“In fact, we really don’t have time for this,” said Poppy, releasing her grip and sitting up.
As she went to swing a leg over the side of the bed, her world suddenly shifted, and she found herself pinned under a large, naked Viking.
