Poppy's mother called, which put her behind, so everyone was already seated when she arrived in the dining room.

"I'm sorry I'm late. My mother called," Poppy excused herself as she sat to Isaac's left with a friendly smile.

No one commented as she got settled. The first course was relatively quiet as they ate. Only the occasional comment was made about the food and weather.

"Poppy Steven's, isn't it?" Chester Glenn asked.

"No, it's Poppy Harrison now," Poppy corrected as she held up her hand and showed off her rings.

Chester's face grew red at her answer.

"How old are you, Poppy," Siobhan asked, covering for her father's sudden anger at what he felt was Poppy's impertinence.

"I'm twenty-seven." Poppy offered freely.

"That's fourteen years between you and Isaac. Aren't you worried about being married to such an older man? Whatever do you have in common?" Siobhan asked, shooting Isaac a look that left no one any doubt that she thought Isaac was in the prime of his life and they had plenty in common.

Poppy opened her mouth to say something inappropriate in true Stevens style, but Isaac cleared his throat, catching her eyes with his, warning her before she could. He didn't know her that well yet, did he?

"Tell us about your family, Poppy," Glynda insisted.

"My mother, father, and sister are in my immediate family." She offered vaguely.

"Siobhan tells us you are very good with accents." Chester tried again.

"Yes. I have an ear for them," Poppy tasted her soup.

"Perhaps you can give us a demonstration? Chester asked.

"All right," Poppy set her spoon down and blotted her mouth. "Would you prefer an English accent?" she asked in a perfect English accent. "I spent a lot of time in England as a child and picked it up there, or perhaps," she offered, slipping into a perfect Scotts cadence, "you would prefer a Scottish accent; it's one of my favorites, and I've had a chance to develop it recently."

"Where in England did you spend your time as a child," Siobhan asked.

"Mostly London, but my family has a home in Kent. I also attended the Royal College of Art and Oxford." Poppy was getting the third degree and looked from Boyd to Isaac to see if they would stop it anytime soon.

"It's best just to get it over with," Isaac said, leaning over and whispering in her ear, disguised it with a kiss to her cheek that could have been given in pride, which gave Poppy goosebumps.

"What do your parents do?" Glynda asked as she looked lovingly at Peter and brushed his hair away from his forehead.

"My father is an actor, my mother is a singer, my sister is a nurse, and I am an artist." This time, she gave more than she needed to, hoping to head off the questions. "What about you, Chester and Glynda? What do you do?"

"I don't work, dear," Glynda said in a tone as she looked down her nose at Poppy. "Chester works at his family's brokerage firm."

"And you, Siobhan? What do you do for a living?" Poppy looked at the woman as she watched Poppy with narrowed eyes. She hadn't liked Isaac's casual kiss.

"I work in the firm with my father." She took a sip of her wine.

This was turning into its own unique form of torture, and Poppy wanted out or at least a save.

"Uncle Isaac said you can sing?" Peter chimed in as he looked adoringly at Poppy.

"No, not compared to my mother or sister. They have beautiful voices. I can only carry a tune." Poppy smiled at him and shook her head.

"Enough about me. How did the tour go today, Boyd?" Poppy asked, and thankfully, that took the direction of the conversation away from her. It did not, however, keep the judgemental gaze of the Glenns off her.

As they finished dinner and moved into the formal parlor, Isaac excused himself, saying he would return shortly.

"Do you ride, Poppy?" Siobhan asked.

"I know a bit about horses," she said, trying to play it low-key.

Poppy had noticed that Siobhan kept giving the caterers instructions during the meal, and now she poured out the coffee as if she were the lady of the house. Poppy couldn't decide if it bothered her or not.

Her grandmother and Aunt Grace wouldn't be caught talking to the caterers during dinner; that was the housekeeper's job, and as for pouring out, whoever was closest to the coffee pot got that honor. It appeared that Poppy knew more about how the landed gentry behaved on social occasions like these than Siobhan did, making her more willing to accept her upper-handedness.

Isaac returned shortly and told the children it was time for bed. They didn't fight him like they normally would, making Poppy smile.

Peter and Mary hugged Uncle Boyd and Issac, and Uncle Boyd said something to them softly before they diligently kissed their grandparents and Siobhan on the cheek. Then they gave a little wave to Poppy, who winked at them to let them know she wasn't upset that she didn't hug her. Boyd must have told them not to for fear of upsetting the Glenns.

After they left, the conversation dragged on about financial and estate matters, and Poppy tried to hang in there. When her eyes started to droop, she stood up, wished everyone goodnight, told Isaac she would see him upstairs, and went to bed with a red-cheek Siobhan shooting her a dissatisfied look.

Poppy looked in on the kids, who were not yet asleep, and gave them their goodnight hugs. Then she moved to her room, where she noticed that Isaac had visited, leaving a few stacks of his clothes and a toiletry bag. She cleared some drawer space for him and then got ready for bed, knowing Isaac would be up for a while. She washed her face and changed into her uninteresting night clothes: sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt from her college days. Then she brewed a cup of tea from the kettle and teabags she had snuck into her room when she had moved in. The house was too large for her to wander downstairs when she wanted tea or a snack, so she kept plenty on hand in her room.

Maybe that's why rich people were always skinny; the kitchen was too far away to snack.

The idea amused her as she looked out the window and sipped her tea.

It was almost an hour later when Isaac joined her. He looked extremely stressed as he entered.

"Did Siobhan corner you and make a move?" Poppy jokingly asked. By the look he gave Poppy, Siobhan had done that very thing. "She didn't!" Poppy said, sitting up and turning to look at him. "Do you want me to defend your honor and scratch her eyes out?" Poppy asked. She would do it!

"No," he shook his head, unimpressed by her offer.

"I emptied the top two drawers for you," she told him. "I took the lower ones because I'm much younger than you. I figure it was easier for me to bend down and get them than for you."

"What were you going to say at dinner about our age difference before I stopped you?" Isaac asked as she started to unpack his clothes.

"Something along the lines of having the best bits in common," Poppy settled back in and sipped her tea. "There's a kettle in the bathroom if you want tea," she offered. Noting that he stilled for a moment after she spoke before he returned to putting his clothes away.

He took his toiletry bag to the bathroom and closed the door, leaving Poppy alone with her thoughts, which were primarily ones of frustration. Her heart was beating rapidly, her palms were sweating, and it was all because he was spending the night in her room, whereas he seemed totally unphased by the entire thing.

After about ten minutes, there was a soft knock on the door, and Poppy jumped up and ran to the bathroom, lightly rapping on the door. "Isaac, someone is at the door!" she hissed.

He threw open the bathroom door and looked at her. He was shirtless and wearing a towel around his waist. Poppy admired the view as she swallowed hard at the man's beauty, her face turning bright red.

The knock came again, and Isaac took a deep breath to calm his impatience. "I'm surprised you didn't tell them just to come in like you did earlier. Who is it?" he called.

"What if it's Siobhan? I can't answer the door like this as a newlywed. She would know something was up!" Poppy brushed by him and started to shuck her sweatpants and shirt as she reached for the silk robe.

When he realized what she was doing, he quickly turned away.

"It's Siobhan," a voice called back. 

"See, I told you! She's checking up on us!" Poppy hissed, letting her hair down and mussing it. "Put some pants on, for goodness sake!" she called a little louder than she needed to as she moved to the door and opened it a crack.

Poppy didn't realize that she had created the look she wanted. Her face was flushed, her hair was mussed, and her eyes were bright as she looked up meekly at Siobhan. "Yes, Siobhan," Poppy asked, a bit breathless. She didn't have to fake that either.

"I needed to ask Isaac a question."

"Oh, sure. Are you decent, love?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at Isaac, whose face was impatient and borderline angry. He was wearing pajama bottoms and nothing else, and Poppy thought he looked perfectly indecent.

She knew he was angry with her for the drama she had created about opening the door, but she could not let Siobhan find a single hole in their story because she would use it to her advantage.

Poppy opened the door wider, never taking her eyes off her handsome and well-built husband.

Siobhan looked from one to the other, picking up on the lustful vibe Poppy was throwing off. She was sure of it.

"I wanted to make sure you wanted to go riding in the morning like we normally do when I'm here," Siobhan let her gaze wander over Isaac's body just as Poppy had.

"Sure. Poppy, do you want to join us?" he offered.

"I would love to!" Poppy smiled lovingly at her husband as she leaned her head against the open door.

Isaac slowly moved his gaze, which had taken its time looking over Poppy, to Siobhan. "We'll see you at seven," he smiled, and then, with nothing more to say, Siobhan turned and left.

"I knew it was her!" Poppy whispered once the door was closed.

"You just flew past me and started removing your clothes!" he accused.

"So, we're married!" Poppy rolled her eyes. "I'm about to do it again," she said as she returned to the bathroom to change.

Isaac turned his back to her until she told him it was safe to look, and his refusal to acknowledge her as a woman depressed Poppy.

"I never took you for a prude," Poppy groused, unable to hide the hurt in her eyes as she looked him up and down again before she moved to the bed and pulled back the covers. "I'm going to bed since we have to be up at seven. What do you bet she has the meanest horse saddled for me to ride when we get there." She burrowed under the thick covers, watching Isaac finish his preparations for bed.

A few minutes later, he turned out the light and joined her, careful to stay on his side of the bed.

They lay in silence for a few moments.

"Thank you again."

"For what this time," Poppy asked in a small, tired voice.

"For not going off on Siobhan when she tried to play hostess this evening and tried to put you in your place. You could have made a scene, and it would have been your right, but it would have made everyone uncomfortable."

"Instead, I was the only one uncomfortable." Poppy closed her eyes, holding back tears. "It's all right. She was doing it all wrong anyway. A lady never corrects a server at dinner. That's the housekeeper's job, whoever is closest may pour out the tea, and a lady never hits on another man's wife." Poppy explained.

"You're a giant mystery, Poppy Harrison."

"Not really; I was raised by talented, smart, and graceful ladies. They taught me all I ever needed to know." Except for how to make your husband fall in love with you, Poppy thought silently.

"Good night, Isaac." Poppy was done talking,, there was nothing else to say.

"Good night, Poppy."