“I’m so glad Poppy could lure you away from campus,” Aunt Martha said. “I know you don’t care for the city.”

“I couldn’t resist the chance to see Poppy’s nursery,” Gwen said, feeling only a twinge of jealousy. She’d always wanted children, but Jasper’s disinterest in her made it almost impossible to conceive. Maybe she would soon have children of her own. Patrick would be a wonderful father. Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself, but the longing to have Patrick’s dependable strength and humor in her world was becoming increasingly hard to deny.

Oscar’s home was made of white marble, gilt furniture, and had murals painted on every soaring ceiling. To her surprise, Natalia waited for them in the hallway. It was a Monday, and Natalia had dressed for work in a tailored indigo suit with a nipped-in jacket and wore her dark hair coiled into a sleek chignon.

Gwen kissed Natalia’s cheek in greeting. “I gather I have you to thank for your father’s decision to extend funding on the college for another year.”

“My father’s heart is deeply buried, but I know where to find it.”

Aunt Helen moved in, her pin curls bobbing as she scrutinized Natalia. “I didn’t think you’d want to attend Poppy’s little tea party.”

Natalia smiled tightly. “Father has asked me to make an effort to appease Poppy. I’ll have a little tea, then go to the bank. I’m excited about a new proposal to develop the Russian turpentine industry.”

Was there anything duller than the turpentine industry? It was hard to know if Natalia was genuinely excited about the topic or merely wanted to escape Poppy’s tea party. A little of both, probably.

Natalia led them into the breakfast room, where Poppy was already entertaining the other elderly aunts. Aunt Helen leaned heavily on her cane as she limped toward the tea table, but Poppy interrupted before she could sit.

“No, no, don’t sit,” Poppy said. “We can’t have tea until you’ve seen the nursery. I know you’ve all been bursting with curiosity.”

Aunt Helen exchanged an annoyed glance with her sisters, but they dutifully followed Poppy down the hallways of white marble and gilded mirrors. Gwen expected the baby’s room to have similar princely grandeur, so she was stunned when she stepped inside the nursery. Everything was black, bronze, and scarlet.

The aunts looked baffled, but Poppy brimmed with pride. “It’s Japanese,” she said, running her hands along the black lacquered crib. “This sort of décor is all the rage in Europe. I’ve heard that the Prince of Wales is redesigning his own rooms in the Japanese style.”