Princess of Glass by Jessica Day George

do you know this?" Christian stirred his tea but didn't drink, too engrossed--almost sickened--by the story.
    "An herbalist from the Silk Road region of the East was with the ambassador for a time, just before I came home. His Lordship suffers terribly from the headache," Roger explained. He added sugar to his tea and sipped it in his elegant way. Really, he was one of the most self-contained, even graceful, men that Christian had ever seen. "Lon Qui knew the white magicians who aided this Galen Werner."
    "What did you say about Galen?"
    The parlor door had just opened, and Poppy and Marianne stood there. Marianne's mouth was open in surprise, but Poppy
    92
    looked murderous. She clutched at her reticule as though it contained a weapon. Realizing that it probably held some very sharp knitting needles, Christian reflected that it did.
    "Ah, Your Highness!" Roger actually seemed nonplussed. He got to his feet hastily, his napkin falling from his knee to the floor. Christian and Dickon rose as well, but all they could do was stand there looking guilty.
    "What did you just say about Galen?" Poppy demanded an answer when none of the gentlemen would offer one.
    "We were merely, ah, talking," Roger said evasively.
    "I am well aware of that, and you seem to be talking about my family." Poppy's voice was icy.
    "Roger was just telling us that there was magic involved, when your brother-in-law ... the slippers ... and all that," Christian babbled. There was something in Poppy's face. She wasn't angry... she looked hurt. There was a great deal of gossip about her family, and he imagined that it never got any easier to walk into a room and find that you were the topic of discussion.
    "And what does Roger know about it?"
    "I am acquainted with an Eastern herbalist, Your Highness, who knew the magicians who assisted your brother-in-law." It didn't take long for Roger to regain his composure; Christian had to give him that.
    "How nice for you," Poppy snapped. "Marianne? I'm leaving; do you wish to stay?"
    "No," Marianne said. She flashed a confused look at
    93
    Dickon, who could only open and close his mouth like a fish. "Good day, gentlemen."
    Before Christian or his companions could react, Poppy and Marianne were gone again, a footman trailing in their wake and looking as embarrassed as Christian and the Thwaite brothers.
    94
    ***
    Gown
    I've changed my mind," Poppy said.
    "What, again?" Lady Margaret's voice was amused and calm.
    She was always calm. Poppy had to admit that she found herself behaving better in the face of Her Ladyship's sublime tranquility. Even now, refusing to go to the ball she had tentatively agreed to attend, Poppy was trying for serenity rather than fleeing the room and hiding.
    "Just wait a moment before you decide," Lady Margaret said. "Wait until you see your new gown."
    Taking Poppy by the hand, Lady Margaret led her over to the windows, where a dress form had been draped with a thin sheet of muslin. Letting go of Poppy's hand, Lady Margaret took hold of the sheet and drew it aside with a grand flourish.
    Much to her embarrassment, Poppy had a completely
    95
    girlish reaction: she gasped, and even clapped her hands. Then she blushed and would have fled, but the dress was too magnificent and she had to inspect it from every angle.
    The dressmaker had agreed that white would be too plain for the pale-skinned princess. So the gown of heavy white silk was trimmed with poppy red, and her namesake flower was embroidered randomly across the skirt. It was gorgeous and daring and everything Poppy could want in a ball gown.
    The only drawback was that if she wanted anyone to see her in it, she would have to attend a ball. Imagining Christians face when she walked into Tuckington Palace in that gown would be worth it, however.
    "Christian has to see you in this," Marianne said breathily, echoing Poppy's thought.
    Ducking her head so they couldn't see her face, Poppy fingered the neckline of the dress. It was low, and the