Atticus sighed. Of course she’d taken his words in a way he hadn’t meant, and now both of them had their tempers flaring. He leaned back against his chair and frowned at her, wishing he could take back the words he’d said. He couldn’t backtrack (again), because he’d certainly just tried that and look where he got him. Poppy was not only shocked by his words, he’d upset her even further - he was here to make her feel better, soothe over the emotions that troubled her and instead he’d gone and made them worse.
Atticus hated it when women cried.
Poppy shifted and he picked up his cup to take a sip from it. He didn’t have anything else to say on the matter, not until she’d finally picked her words. If there was one thing Atticus was good at, it was picking his words carefully. (Even if Basil would disagree with him, sometimes his brother was too far under his skin for him to care how much his words hurt.) Tears welled in her eyes but her words came out sharp, and true.
Atticus Foxwood was picky about his future bride, but only because he’d found the perfect one, gotten down on one knee to beg her to marry him, and through some miracle she’d agreed. She wasn’t anything special: lower class, poor enough that her dowry was downright laughable, and average looking enough that she would never catch the eye of someone looking for beauty. But he’d loved her with every fiber of his being. And look where that had gotten him. But she was a well-kept secret.
He pursed his lips together, unamused. “I’m sorry.” The words almost killed him. He settled the teacup back onto the table. “You have definitely paid attention, and I can’t say I am able to argue with any of the points you just made, even if I disagree Merlin is the better judge of character. If a woman gave him food and a pat on the head, why, he would marry me off to her in an instance.” He’d ignore her calling his friends boors, because one day she’d probably wind up marrying one - Atticus would keep that nugget in the back of his mind to bring up when Poppy wasn’t about ready to tear his head off.
“Mama tricked me into tea with a woman a few weeks ago.” She was a fine young lady, but… “It is you, Tillie and Basil I worry about.” More so the latter of the two, especially Basil. He could only hope Tillie would conform within a few years once she’d gotten the rebellious nature out of her system. He wasn't sure Basil would ever let go of his academics long enough to marry someone, let alone bear any children. Atticus’ lips twitched into a smile. “I promise, Poppy. I will be fine. I appreciate your…efforts. Please think I do not.”
Atticus hated it when women cried.
Poppy shifted and he picked up his cup to take a sip from it. He didn’t have anything else to say on the matter, not until she’d finally picked her words. If there was one thing Atticus was good at, it was picking his words carefully. (Even if Basil would disagree with him, sometimes his brother was too far under his skin for him to care how much his words hurt.) Tears welled in her eyes but her words came out sharp, and true.
Atticus Foxwood was picky about his future bride, but only because he’d found the perfect one, gotten down on one knee to beg her to marry him, and through some miracle she’d agreed. She wasn’t anything special: lower class, poor enough that her dowry was downright laughable, and average looking enough that she would never catch the eye of someone looking for beauty. But he’d loved her with every fiber of his being. And look where that had gotten him. But she was a well-kept secret.
He pursed his lips together, unamused. “I’m sorry.” The words almost killed him. He settled the teacup back onto the table. “You have definitely paid attention, and I can’t say I am able to argue with any of the points you just made, even if I disagree Merlin is the better judge of character. If a woman gave him food and a pat on the head, why, he would marry me off to her in an instance.” He’d ignore her calling his friends boors, because one day she’d probably wind up marrying one - Atticus would keep that nugget in the back of his mind to bring up when Poppy wasn’t about ready to tear his head off.
“Mama tricked me into tea with a woman a few weeks ago.” She was a fine young lady, but… “It is you, Tillie and Basil I worry about.” More so the latter of the two, especially Basil. He could only hope Tillie would conform within a few years once she’d gotten the rebellious nature out of her system. He wasn't sure Basil would ever let go of his academics long enough to marry someone, let alone bear any children. Atticus’ lips twitched into a smile. “I promise, Poppy. I will be fine. I appreciate your…efforts. Please think I do not.”
![[Image: cBAJGlb.png]](https://i.imgur.com/cBAJGlb.png)