“Tell me everything,” she said expectantly.
“Well, as you know, the house is enormous,” she said without preamble.
“The house?”
“Yes. I could lose myself in it for days. The staircase alone is larger than our entire hallway.”
“And yet you do not seem overwhelmed.”
“Should I be?”
“I would be.”
“You are overwhelmed by ribbon.”
Poppy threw a cushion at her for that. Margaret set aside her necklace and turned slightly toward her sister, whose cheeks were now pink.
“Mama said you walked beside him so easily,” Poppy continued. “As though you belonged there.”
“It was only dinner.”
“It was not only dinner. Mama said that she saw a Duke who watches you as though you are the only person in the room.”
Margaret stilled.
“She is imagining that,” she said gently. “It is wishful thinking, you know how she can be.”
“I do not think it is that, Maggie.”
“Yes, and you are predisposed to romance.”
“I know when my sister is happy, actually. You are happy, yes?”
Margaret hesitated.
“I am content.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“Happiness is not what matters most to me, Poppy.”
“It should be.”
“Security must come first.”
“For you,” Poppy said. “Perhaps.”
“For all of us.”
Poppy shook her head slightly.
“You always say that.”
“Because it is true.”
“It may be,” Poppy replied, “but that does not mean it is everything.”
Margaret looked at her more closely now. She always saw Poppy as her baby, and she had always protected her fiercely, but she done it so much that she forgot that her sister was of age, and not quite as dim as she thought.
