Page 38 of All is Fair in Love
Perhaps firing a pistol might have been a little rash on my part.
And there must surely be a rule or two about the use of weapons around the dock area.
“Good morning.”
Poppy turned. A few feet away stood a well-dressed gentleman. He slipped his hat from his head and gave her a bow. “Charles Saunders, at your service,” he announced.
She swallowed a lump of dread. Was last night’s little misadventure about to come back to haunt her? And if so, where was his son?
Don’t tell me the Viking can’t even fight his own battles? He has to send his papa.
Her hopeful opinion of Francis faltered. Anger stirred.
Mister Saunders righted himself. “Welcome to the North Quay warehouses. I have seen you around the area over the past few days, so I am assuming you work for the Basden Line. Would you know if Mister Basden is about this morning? I would like to make my introductions.”
A cautious Poppy wiped her fingers on her apron, then offered him her hand. “I am Captain Poppy Basden, part owner of the Basden Line.” She nodded in the direction of the Empress Catherine. “My crew and I arrived from Ceylon earlier in the week.”
To his credit, Mister Saunders did a solid job of hiding his surprise. He accepted Poppy’s hand and shook it firmly. “I haven’t ever met a female captain before; this is quite an honor.” He glanced at Poppy’s boat. “That is a fine ship you have there, Captain Basden—very unique in its design. The lion figurehead is magnificent. Ceylon, you say. Which means you went around Cape Horn. How did the Empress Catherine handle the weather?”
“She did well, though the wind and seas on this trip were a lot calmer than usual. I am afraid I cannot take too much praise for our safe passage; I merely guided her.”
Charles’s eyebrows raised at her words. “How many times have you been ’round the Cape?”
There was a spark of genuine interest in his voice, unlike with most men who discovered she was a sailor; Mister Saunders wasn’t just patronizing her.
Let’s not rush to conclusions about the father or the son. Maybe there is hope.
Poppy couldn’t hold back her grin. “Thirteen times all told, but only six as the captain. The trick to ensure you make it safely ’round is to stay away from the reefs near Cape Agulhas. That’s the point where the Atlantic and the Indian Oceans meet. Cold and warm currents crashing together make for turbulent and unpredictable waters.”
“I would love to sit and hear your stories of life on the sea, Captain Basden. You must have had many interesting journeys. So, what brings you to the London Docks?”
Jonathan’s words of caution rang quietly in her mind. Not everyone who wished to spy on their competition did so by banging on the door in the middle of the night. There were other more subtle ways to gain vital information. A polite question here or there asked under the guise of making friends.
Mark your words carefully.
“We have brought a shipment of cinnamon up from Ceylon on this trip. There are a number of buyers already lined up to take the bales.”
“So, you won’t be staying long?” he asked.
His smile was easy, alluring. She had to hand it to Mister Saunders; he was good. If she didn’t already suspect he was fishing for information, Poppy could have let slip more than was wise.
It was time to turn the tables. Give him and his impetuous son something to think about.
“Oh, no, we are staying here permanently. The company owns the warehouse. And I am waiting for another ship to arrive. Once that comes into port, I will be working out of the docks.”
Her gaze tracked his face, searching for any sign of annoyance but to her surprise, he simply kept smiling. “Well, it will be nice to have someone living next door. The warehouse was empty for too long,” said Charles.
He pointed at the barrels and ropes which sat out the front of number twelve. Someone had moved them so that they no longer blocked the door.
“I must apologize for us leaving our bits and bobs cluttered about the place. We got so used to your warehouse being vacant that I think we came to see this area as ours. I know my son, Francis, certainly did.”
It was Poppy’s time to gather intelligence. To gauge just how in step father and son were when it came to opposing her occupancy of number fourteen.
“Yes, I spoke briefly to Francis yesterday, and we cleared up our little misunderstanding,” she replied.
Charles frowned. “You mean the day before yesterday? Francis and I were at a family wedding and celebration all day yesterday. Neither of us made it to the shipping office.”
Poppy let her gaze drift away from Charles and out over the water. For a moment, she let it linger on the morning light which danced over the bobbing waves.
