Poppy | Colin Bridgerton

One

According to the much heralded poet, Lord Byron: Of all bitches, dead or alive, a scribbling woman is the most canine.

Poppy sat next to her younger sister Penelope and let out a sigh. The two watched as their sisters got ready for the debutante presentations. Neither Penelope or Poppy wanted to join in on the social season.

If that should be true, then this author would like to show you her teeth...

At the age of twenty Poppy was going into her second turn in the market, while poor Penelope at just seventeen was being thrust into her first.

Poppy was the second oldest of the Featherington girls and stood at the same height as Prudence with gleaming eyes the same shade of blue as Penelope's and brown hair that curled wildly on its own.

My name is Lady Whistledown. You do not know me, and you never shall. But if you are currently reading these papers of record, then rest assured: I certainly know you...

The Featherington girl loved to read and simply wished to spend her days studying books, learning about histories and cultures, immersing herself into stories of love and fantasy.

Oftentimes, she would beg Penelope, who had a way with words, to write stories. So that they could both be immersed in a world of imagination. They often spent time fighting off villains with swords and planning flower heists, they would be stealing most beautiful ones from the most extensive gardens.

Perhaps one resides within the household of a certain Baron Featherington. Should one have a bracket for a face?

Philipa walked over to who she considered her rather odd sisters and along with them stared. Horrified, as they watched the eldest of the four, Prudence, have the air quite literally squeezed out of her lungs as the maids yanked her corset strings closer and closer together.

Four misses. Foisted upon the marriage market this season like sorrowful sows by their tasteless, tactless dear mama – the luckless souls...

The mother of the four women, Portia Featherington, watched on disappointed, glaring at the maids who were only doing their best.

"Tighter. Tighter." She growled out.

The maids had somehow found more muscles in order to pull the strings farther and caused Prudence to gasp out for air. Penelope stared on in terror while Poppy's face morphed into one of frightened concern.

Eventually she took pity on her sister and faced their mother,

"Is she to breathe, mama?"

"I was able to squeeze my waist into the size of an orange and a half when I was Prudence's age. Your sister shall do the same if she's to finally impress the Queen."

Poppy and Penelope exchanged a look of exasperation, and with a kindness that quite frankly Prudence had never deserved, Penelope approached her.

"Do not worry, Prudence. It will all be over in a matter of," she paused realising that her words may not be as encouraging as she thought and quietly mumbled, "hours."

Prudence bitingly responded,

"The only thing I shall worry about, Penelope, is if I am to go before Her Majesty looking anything like you in that ill-fitting frock." She turned her glare towards the maids, "Tighter!"

Penelope dejectedly walked over to Poppy who placed an arm around her shoulders.

"You have nothing to think about Penelope, your wits and beauty outshine hers on any given day."