“Your Grace.” He bowed as best he could with his cane. “I am honored to finally meet you.”
“The honor is mine, Lord Brimsey.” Edward’s voice held none of its usual stiffness. “Your daughter speaks of you often. And with great affection.”
Lord Brimsey’s eyes softened. “She is my pride and joy. Always has been.” His gaze dropped to Oliver. “And who is this fine young gentleman?”
Oliver stepped forward with his practiced bow. “I am Oliver Gray. I am four years old. And I have a horse named Thunder.”
“A horse!” Lord Brimsey’s eyebrows rose. “That is very impressive. I had a horse when I was your age. His name was Biscuit.”
“Biscuit?” Oliver giggled. “That is a funny name for a horse.”
“He was a funny horse.” Lord Brimsey winked. “Would you like to see the garden? There is a pond with fish in it. Very large fish.”
Oliver’s eyes went wide. He looked up at Edward for permission. Edward nodded, and the boy bounded forward to take Lord Brimsey’s free hand.
They walked together toward the garden, the old man leaning on his cane while the child chattered about Thunder and painting and the hedgehogs in the rose bushes. Lord Brimsey listened with patience and genuine interest, his responses drawing more stories from Oliver, more laughter, more trust.
Sophia watched them go; her heart full to bursting.
Edward stood beside her, silent. When she glanced at him, she found his expression strange. Soft and sad and yearning all at once.
“Edward?” She touched his arm. “Is something wrong?”
He shook his head. “I never thought I would see this.” His voice emerged rough. “My father would never…” He stopped. Swallowed. “This is good. This is what Oliver deserves.”
Sophia’s fingers tightened on his arm. He looked down at her hand, then up at her face. For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Oliver called out from the garden, demanding that they come see the enormous fish, and the moment was shattered.
Lady Brimsey arrived in the late afternoon, having traveled from London with her sister.
Edward watched from the drawing room window as Sophia ran to embrace her mother, the two of them laughing and talking over each other. Lady Brimsey cupped her daughter’s face, examining her with a mother’s critical eye, then nodded with apparent satisfaction.
When Lord Brimsey appeared in the doorway, his wife’s face transformed. The years fell away, and for a moment, Edward glimpsed the young woman she must have been when they first fell in love.
“Richard.” Lady Brimsey crossed to her husband and took his hands in hers. “You look well.”
“I feel well.” Lord Brimsey raised her hands to his lips. “Better now that you are here.”
They stood together, speaking in low voices, their bodies angled toward each other with the ease of long intimacy. Lady Brimsey laughed at something her husband said. Lord Brimsey smiled down at her with such open adoration that Edward had to look away.
This was what marriage could be. Not duty. Not obligation. Not the careful distance he and Sophia maintained. This was a partnership. Affection. Love that had weathered decades and emerged stronger.
He glanced at Sophia. She stood watching her parents with a soft smile, her eyes bright. As though sensing his gaze, she turned. Their eyes met.
She looked away first.
Dinner that evening was warm and chaotic in a way Edward had never experienced.
Oliver sat at the table with the adults, a concession Lord Brimsey had insisted upon. The boy behaved better than expected, charming everyone with his stories and his earnest questions. Lady Brimsey doted on him. Lord Brimsey asked his opinions on important matters like the superiority of chocolate pudding over treacle tart.
Edward found himself relaxing in a way he rarely did. The Brimsey family welcomed him without pretense, without the careful maneuvering he was accustomed to in society. They teased each other. They laughed. They spoke of memories and mishaps with the easy affection of people who genuinely enjoyed each other’s company.
After the main course, Lord Brimsey raised his glass.
“A toast.” He looked around the table, his gaze lingering on each face. “To family. The one we are born into, and the one we choose.” His eyes found Edward. “Your Grace, I know the circumstances that brought you to my daughter were not ideal. I know that my failures placed burdens on her that no young woman should bear.”
“Papa.” Sophia’s voice was soft with warning.
