“I’m afraid your perfect baby, Sterling, is the only one who could pass for a gentleman.”
“One out three is better than zero,” I tease, winking at my mother.
She scoffs, rolls her eyes, and sits in her seat. But Declan and I can both see the tug at her mouth as she tries not to smile. My mother was raised in high society in England, and she raised us with those same refined manners, but she isn’t overly stuffy and controlling like most women of her station. She didn’t want to raise us with an iron fist, and she accepted the fact that a house of boys would be rowdy, chaotic, and messy. We’re less rowdy, chaotic, and messy now, but we’re still her boys, and at home, we don’t pretend to be anything but what we are—unless we have guests. But Ella isn’t some uptight business associate, so propriety will be damned tonight.
“I apologize for my sons,” my mother says to Ella. “I tried. I really did. But they are still a bit feral, even with me, a nanny, and boarding school for their secondary education.”
“I’d take feral over boring any day,” Ella says with a warm smile, looking like she’s growing more comfortable. “And since I know how strong all three of their personalities are, I think it’s a miracle your house didn’t burn down. I already told Asher you deserve a medal for raising the three of them; I’m sure they didn’t make it easy.”
My mother laughs and smiles. “I do, don’t I?” She turns to my father. “I think we both deserve medals for our efforts. Heaven knows how we made it through without one of them dying or destroying the family name. Although, there were some close calls.”
She narrows her eyes at me, while I send her a cheeky smile.
“Indeed. I’m just glad the next set of Langfords will be mygrandchildren,” my dad says, “and I can sit back and let the boys do the work of parenting while I spoil the little ones.”
“Please, no talk of grandchildren,” Declan begs. “We haven’t even started eating.”
Just as he says that, two servers bring the first course: minestrone soup.
“Well, none of us are getting any younger, dear,” my mother says, picking up her spoon. “Your father and I would like grandchildren before we’re too old to enjoy them properly.”
“And don’t forget we have no Langford heir,” my father says, pointedly, at me. “By the Langford family traditions, your first born will be the heir.”
Ella shifts uncomfortably in her seat and takes a long sip of her wine. I place my hand on her knee and give her what I hope is adon’t worry about any of this, look.
“I love being the spare,” Declan says with a wicked smile. “No pressure to produce the heir.”
“You are not the spare. And while we’re at it, stop calling Sterling the double spare,” my mother snaps.
“You know we’re in the works to adjust those traditions with the family trusts,” my father says to Declan. “We want all of our sons and grandchildren to inherit their share of the Langford legacy, not just Asher’s first born.”
“But the first born will get the biggest share,” Declan insists. “Or has that changed?”
“No, Asher and his first born will gain the largest inheritances. But we have already cut down the size and assets of that inheritance and divided the excess between you and Sterling.”
“And if I don’t have children?” Declan asks.
“Then upon your death, your inheritance will be given to Asher’s and Sterling’s children. But I don’t want to hear such things. I want at least two grandchildren from you.”
Declan rolls his eyes, and Ella silently eats her soup,watching the tennis match of my family casually discussing our vast fortune in terms of inheritance.
“Welcome to my family dinner,” I whisper with a chuckle in her ear.
An hour later,Ella and I stand on the third-floor terrace that overlooks the estate.
“The grounds are incredible,” Ella says, taking in the view. “What was it like to grow up here?”
A wave of nostalgia runs through me. “It was the best. We used to imagine all sorts of stories and adventures out in the yard and in all the unused corners of the house. I didn’t realize when I was young just how different my life was from other children because all my friends lived in similar houses. It wasn’t until I was in my tween years that I discovered there was a world outside manors and estates and household staff members.
“But I’m glad I didn’t know any better when I was young. Because what I remember is the magic. I remember playing pirates on a small boat in the pond, running from hissing swans, climbing old trees, begging our cook for sweets, and generally causing chaos throughout the house with Declan and Sterling.”
She smiles. “I love that. It does sound magical. Can I see your old room?”
I sigh. “I suppose so. But my parents haven’t changed it much since I was a teen. All they did was take down the posters, so no judging.”
She smirks. “No promises.”
I lead her across the house to the second level of the west wing. Mine and my brothers’ old rooms sit down a long corridor along with our old nursery that my mother insistedstay intact. And at the end of the wing is a large room that we turned into a game room as teens.
