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She waited until Mr. Honeysett looked away again, then she waved Poppy closer. “Come. Let us try it together. All ye have to do is look at a man like this”—she eased a demure smile across her lips and batted her eyes—“and he’ll fall for ye like anythin’. Then ye just comment ’bout his hair or his smile. Anythin’ to make him strut about like a pheasant.”

Poppy laughed behind her fingers.

“Now ye try,” Morvoren said.

Poppy lowered her hand and straightened her back, still on the floor. “All right. ’Ow ’bout…Oh, Lieutenant ’Arris, ye ’ave such fine shoulders. As wide as a bull’s.”

Their laughter joined together again. “Well done, Poppy. Ye be better at this than I be. Per’aps I’ll take that and use it for meself one day.”

“Feel free to use it on me brother, if ye wish.”

Morvoren stilled, the smile slipping from her lips. “Your brother? Why would I use it on him?”

Poppy batted innocent eyes. “’Cause ’e ’as broad shoulders. And well, ye do find ’im attractive, don’t ye?”

Morvoren was suddenly regretting ever getting herself into such a conversation. “Well, I-I s’pose…” She glanced in his direction, and his eyes pulled away again. Heavens above. Had he heard them?

She looked back to Poppy, desperate to change the subject. “But enough about I. Are ye now convinced to say such things to Lieutenant Harris?”

Poppy’s grin returned. “I be gettin’ closer, I think.” She looked away, delivering a heavy sigh. “I just wish all o’ this be easier.”

Morvoren gave a soft smile. “Don’t we all. But anythin’ worth havin’ be worth the struggle to achieve it.”

Poppy seemed deep in thought for a moment, then turned searching eyes on Morvoren. “’Ave ye e’er been in love?”

A sadness twinged Morvoren’s heart. “No, I haven’t. But I know what it be like to not be in love.” She hesitated, unsure of how much to share, but Poppy’s stalwart gaze shook the grounds of her reticence. “I was supposed to, well, I was asked to…” She paused, beginning again. “I was expected by me caretaker to accept the hand of a man I didn’t love.”

Poppy’s eyes widened. “Ye were engaged?”

Morvoren glanced to the kitchen, but Mr. Honeysett’s eyes remained focused on his mother.

“Not officially, no,” she responded. “But there was an understandin’ ’tween our families.”

An understanding forced upon them both by the man’s father and her uncle. Legally, Uncle Truscott couldn’t force Morvoren into anything, but then, he had never been one to behave with absolute morality. Either way, she was fairly certain Mr. Foss didn’t care whether he married her or not. After all, his riotous living would continue either way. She’d said as much to Uncle, but he’d merely shrugged the notion aside.

“What ’appened?” Poppy asked in a whisper.

“Nothin’. Other than the engagement ne’er comin’ to fruition. I realized I couldn’t give up the life I had planned for meself for a man I didn’t love—a man who clearly didn’t love me in return.” She reached for Poppy’s hand, and the girl shuffled closer to accept it, still kneeling on the ground before her. “I hope ye’ll have the courage to do the same, Poppy. To fight for what ye want in life. Ye deserve the world for your generosity. And a generous heart deserves a generous heart in return.”

Poppy stared up at her, moisture glistening in her eyes before she lunged forward, embracing Morvoren around the middle from where she still knelt upon the hard floor. “Thank ye, Morvoren,” she whispered.

Morvoren didn’t know what she’d said to elicit such a reaction, but she returned the embrace in an instant.

Though the feeling was odd, holding a near-stranger, she felt a curious sense of familiarity, of familial love for this girl. But all too swiftly, that love shifted to a heaviness that pressed upon her heart as heavy and thick as saturated sand.

Despite the belief of her being a devious mermaid, despite Mr. Honeysett’s continuous suspicions…she was going to miss Tristwick. The incomparable view, the comfortable home, Mrs. Honeysett’s kindness, Poppy’s goodness. She’d been welcomed by them, treated as an equal, as if she had been wanted. Morvoren had not felt such a way in years, since before Mother died and Father changed.

Would she be welcomed in the same manner by the Prouts? Or would she be a burden on them as she had been to Uncle?

As Poppy’s embrace continued, Morvoren glanced to the kitchen with a heavy heart, feeling Mr. Honeysett’s stare on her before she met his eyes. Instead of looking away, he merely observed her with a steady gaze.

No doubt he disapproved of her embracing his sister, assuming Morvoren was up to no good.

Perhaps she was. Or at least, her heart was. Why else would it play such a cruel trick on her, learning to love a family she was never supposed to, the night before she would leave them forever?

CHAPTER TWENTY

Freedom was within Morvoren’s grasp. She was so close, she could taste it. She was so close, she could feel it.