Page 35 of A Lady, Her Lord, & Their Duke

“The Carlisles are very, very smart,” Edmund replied, before awkwardly holding out his arms. “If you want to…”

In seconds Edmund was jabbed in five different places as his lanky lad scrambled onto his lap and wound his arms tightly around Edmund’s shoulders. And it was marvelous.

“We could play toy soldiers,” mumbled Harry. “Before I go back to Eton.”

“Yes, we could. Perhaps with someone who fought at Waterloo.”

Harry gasped. “Who?”

Edmund grinned. “When your sister returns home, I’ll let her explain.”

Indeed, today had been a very, very good day.

Neville sat back in his chair and dabbed his lips with a linen napkin after consuming perhaps the most delectable berry tarts known to man.

A half hour ago, Edmund’s valet, Rivers, a man who seemed to be everywhere, all at once, had directed him, Arabella and Toby to the amusingly-labeled small dining room—a cavernous space—where they had then been presented with a buffet of bite-sized treats and freshly-made tea. The strikingly warm welcome had made him hesitate, until a maid whispered that all the servants were very, very grateful for their support in the dismissal of Lady Lovell before she could sink her claws into His Grace.

Poor Edmund. Something else that had clearly been weighing heavily on his shoulders.

Toby cleared his throat. “Do you think Harry is well? He’s never said anything about his father using his fists or a birch or anything, but…it has been a while.”

Neville exchanged a glance with Arabella, who nodded ever so slightly. “Why don’t you eat another of those pastries,” he said. “I’ll go and peek into the room.”

His nephew nodded eagerly, but in truth Neville was equally eager to reassure himself. Obviously a deep hurt had provoked young Harry to have such an opinion, but it was impossible to believe that Edmund hated his own child.

After rising to his feet and smoothing his jacket, Neville departed the dining room and casually sauntered back to the parlor. Comparing this place to the Golden Square townhouse was like comparing a tea shop to the British Museum. Everything was priceless. The carpets, the drapes, the chandeliers, the furniture, the paintings, hell, even the trinkets. Yet it was missing a certain warmth, a certain coziness. Really, it was missing any personal stamp of Edmund and his children.

As he approached the parlor door, Neville began tiptoeing so his shoe heels didn’t echo. Then he glanced in.

Oh.

Edmund had Harry on his lap and the lad was curled against him, clinging on even as he dozed. And Edmund…Edmund just looked at peace.

Neville grinned, about to turn away, when Edmund unexpectedly looked over and met his gaze. They stared at each other for a long moment, when impulsively, Neville touched two fingers to his lips and lowered them, blowing a kiss.

Then Edmund smiled and returned the gesture.

It was like being struck by lightning.

Oh God. Edmund felt the same?

Neville had always known he fell fast and hard and forever. His love for Arabella was intense and all-consuming and he would never be silent about it, but to fall equally hard for Edmund had been the first shock. Could Edmund love him in return so soon? Arabella’s love was a brick-by-brick build that grew into a palace. She did not trust easily but loved fiercely and deeply. He’d been more than prepared to wait for Edmund’s feelings to match his own.

But the duke was there now? They could be a trio?

Neville shifted from one foot to the other, desperate to walk into the parlor and kiss Edmund properly. But no. Everything was more difficult when children were involved. Instead, he blew another kiss, then practically flew back to the small dining room, only to find Arabella and Toby sitting in awkward silence, something they never did.

“Here now,” he said carefully. “Who are these two quiet mice pretending to be my wife and nephew?”

Arabella smiled tightly as she stirred a sugar cube into her tea. “We were waiting to hear news. Also…I told Toby I wished to discuss something very important once you returned.”

A little confused, Neville sank back onto his seat. Thankfully, they had complete privacy in the room. “Everything is excellent in the parlor. The Carlisle Mission of Father and Son Reunite and Reconcile may be considered a resounding success. Now, what did you have to discuss with Toby?”

Arabella set down her teaspoon. “Toby, my dear, I need to know how you feel about being your uncle’s heir. How you truly feel. Not what your mother or grandmother or friends or anyone else thinks…just you.”

Toby looked briefly startled, then his expression turned thoughtful as he set down the pastry he’d been eating. “Grandmother was mean, wasn’t she? About you and Uncle Nev not having any babies.”

For perhaps the first time ever, his wife’s jaw dropped. “Er…why do you say that?”