“Your younger sister is very like you in figure and in temperament.”

“Oh, poor Mary.”

Mama laughed. “You know perfectly well I meant it as a compliment. It is a shame that Louise isn’t with the queen, but I believe she will only have Princess Beatrice with her.”

“Oh, Louise is far too busy for jaunts to Scotland. She is redecorating the private apartment in Kensington Palace she has been granted, and so excited to finally to have space to create a sculpting studio of her own. Her letters are full of her designs and plans. She is absolutely determined to have it reflect her personal taste, which I suppose is no surprise, after having endured the queen’s more sombre preferences for so long.”

“She and Lorne seem to spend an inordinate amount of time apart.” The duchess pursed her lips. “I am assuming that there is no substance to the latest round of speculation in the press, that she will shortly be making an addition to the house of Argyll?”

“Not that I am aware, though she does not confide in me as she once did, and even if she did . . .”

“You would not break her confidence. Quite right. You are a very loyal friend. It is a pity that you have managed to see her only the once since your return.”

“She has a very full calendar, but I am delighted she made the effort to come to Edinburgh especially to see me. It was wonderful to finally meet face-to-face again. It’s been such a long time.”

“How does being married suit her?”

“Louise has never been one to give much away.” Her friend had been vivacious, garrulous almost, over the dinner they had shared in Edinburgh last month, but when Margaret attempted to steer their conversation onto a more personal level, the drawbridge was hoisted up. “It was bound to be a little awkward, given the gap, but by the end, it was just like old times.”

“Did she find you much changed? What does she make of your Sanctuary in Five Points?”

“We didn’t talk much about New York. Louise is involved with so many charitable endeavours herself. . . .”

“And she never could bear to be outshone.”

“Mama!”

“Yes, I know, that is unkind but perfectly true nonetheless. She is one of your oldest friends, and she ought to be proud of you. I know I am.”

“And you tell me so, at every opportunity. There really is no need. . . .”

“There is every need.” Mama took her hand, squeezing it tightly. “I know I also say this every time we meet, but I am so very pleased to have you home.”

“And I am very, very pleased to be here.”

“You don’t regret leaving New York?”