“No need to worry about me,” he dismissed. “Please make sure the children eat something.”
“Of course, Your Grace. I shall inform the kitchen staff now.” Rosaria scurried away.
Christopher hesitantly walked to the children’s room, and upon reaching the door, his hand hovered over the handle. The twins had refused to step out of their room all week, demanding that their parents come to collect them before they did so.
With a sharp exhale, he mustered up the courage to go in. He found the pair huddled up on the bed.
“Uncle Collin,” Edwin whispered before nudging his brother, Ernest.
The two stared at their uncle, alert.
“Christopher,” he corrected before taking a seat at the foot of their bed. “Uncle Christopher.”
Christopher had been estranged from Peter for the last several years. He had not even attended his wedding, nor ever met his wife, Lydia. It was no surprise then that his children were not close to him, much less remembered his name correctly.
Ernest and Edwin exchanged a look. “Do you know when our parents will be back?”
The sheer innocence of the question broke Christopher’s heart. The children had already been informed about their parents’ demise, but they took it as if they had gone away someplace and would surely return.
At five years old, death was not a concept that one could easily grasp.
Christopher steeled himself. “It’s going to take them a while, but let’s not spoil our mood until then. You should consider Huntington Estate your new home.”
“We already have a home,” Ernest pointed out. “It has all of our toys.”
Christopher went to pick up a wooden horse that lay on the ground. He had purchased it for his nephews from the town when they had arrived.
Unmarried at the age of thirty-five, Christopher had no children of his own. Still, he considered himself easy to get along with all ages. The grief of his brother’s sudden death had dimmed his natural charisma, but he was not one to give up easily.
“What about this horse that I bought especially for you?” He offered the toy to the pair.
“We don’t like wooden horses,” Edwin stated, turning his face away.
Tough audience.
Christopher scarcely knew anything about their likes and dislikes, much less themselves.
He managed a strained smile, stretching the corners of his lips as he watched the twins’ wary eyes follow every motion. They sat rigidly on the plush mattress, clutching each other’s hands, their small fingers intertwined as a source of mutual comfort. The silence stretched between them.
“Wise choice, both of you. Once in my childhood, I tried to mount a wooden horse, only to fall flat on my face,” Christopher said, attempting to inject a bit of cheer into his voice to lighten the mood. “You can imagine how embarrassing that would have been.”
The twins glanced up, their expressions unmoving, and then looked back at each other, unimpressed. His attempt to lighten the mood had fallen flat, and the room lapsed back into an awkward silence.
Tough crowd, indeed.
“Shall we play a game, then?”
“Your shirt is untidy,” Edwin commented, his gaze trailing down the front of his uncle’s shirt. “Father always chides us whenever he sees us wearing a wrinkled shirt.”
“What—oh.” Christopher looked down. He had not been paying any attention to his appearance for the last several days, and others were beginning to notice. “Would it make you happy if I changed into a fresh one?”
Edwin shrugged. He did not seem to care either way. “Father always said that the mark of a gentleman is how he dresses.”
“Then, my dear Edwin, your father would be correct.” Christopher sighed, getting up. “I shall see you in a bit then, and you can tell me if you approve of my appearance.”
He walked out of the room feeling defeated. He was not equipped for this.
What the children needed was a governess. In time, he hoped that they would get comfortable enough around him, but right now, they required dedicated attention from someone more experienced with children than he was.
