“My dear,” her mother said, taking her hands. “This house is magnificent.”
Poppy leaned close with a grin.
“And you are hosting half of London in it!”
“That part still feels slightly unbelievable.”
Her mother studied her face carefully.
“But you look happy.”
Margaret hesitated only briefly. The truth was that she was, indeed, very happy, but there was a part of her that could not yet trust it entirely.
“I am well.”
Emily tilted her head. Margaret never knew what she thought, for it changed so often, but she could hardly blame her sister for that. Margaret hardly knew what to think herself, after all.
“That is not the same thing,” Emily pointed out.
Margaret glanced toward the ballroom again. Nathaniel was now speaking quietly with Eliza. The protective ease in his posture made something in Margaret soften. Poppy followed her gaze instantly.
“Oh,” she said, drawing the word out with clear amusement. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
Emily folded her arms, smiling knowingly.
“You were looking at him.”
Margaret felt a faint warmth rise to her cheeks. Her mother noticed at once.
“Margaret,” she said gently, “are you content here?”
The question was quiet but sincere. Margaret considered it carefully.
“When I first came to Ravensmere,” she said slowly, “everything felt uncertain. The marriage, the future, all of it.”
“That is understandable,” her mother said softly.
“But now?” Emily asked.
Margaret’s gaze drifted again across the room. Nathaniel had just looked up. As though sensing it, his eyes found hers across the crowd. The connection lasted only a second, yet it felt steady, intentional. Margaret turned back to her family with a small smile.
“Now,” she said quietly, “I think there may be something good waiting for us here.”
Poppy’s grin widened immediately.
“That sounds suspiciously like hope.”
“Yes,” she admitted. “It does.”
Her mother squeezed her hand gently.
“Hope,” she said, “is an excellent beginning.”
Across the room Nathaniel was still watching her. And for the first time since becoming Duchess of Ravensmere, Margaretallowed herself to believe that perhaps this house, and the man she resided with, might truly become home.
Margaret moved easily among her guests.
