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Alex seemed to accept this.

Edward privately congratulated himself on navigating a tricky conversation so easily. He glanced down at his son, who was sitting like a seasoned, tiny rider in the saddle, his back straight and his eyes fixed on the road ahead. A wave of affection washed over Edward, so intense that he had to close his eyes for a moment.

My son. My little boy. I’m doing my best with our boy, Jane. Maybe my best isn’t good enough, but I’m trying. I swear to you, I’m trying. I wonder what you see from up there, in Heaven? Do you think I’ve tried hard enough? Are there mistakes I’ve made that can’t be undone, or foolish choices the consequences of which will reverberate for years?

Could I have tried harder? Could I have done better?

Is it too late to fix it?

“Papa,” Alex said, sitting up a little straighter, “can we take the path through the forest?”

Blinking, jerked out of his reverie, Edward glanced down the path in question. They’d reached the crossroads, now. The easy path lay ahead, wide and open, the sun streaming down on flat fields and a smooth road. The easy path ended soon, though. He knew that at the top of the hill, the path ended in a circular, flat clearing, where they could admire the view and then head back down the way they’d come.

The forest path, however, was something else entirely. It was narrower and darker, hung with encroaching branches and undergrowth flopping over the ground, which was broken by stones and raised tree roots. It could be tricky.

He glanced down at Alex, who was looking hopefully up at him.

Edward let out a slow sigh. “All right. We can go that way. Just go carefully, won’t you?”

Alex beamed. “I’ll be careful, Papa! It looks like it’s more fun, though, doesn’t it? Mrs. Trench said that the less traveled road was always the best one to take.”

“Mrs. Trench has probably never trekked through a mountain pass, then,” Edward mumbled, but not loud enough for Alex to hear.

They took the forest path. Almost immediately, it became cooler and darker, the air full of birdsong and mysterious rustling in the undergrowth. A smell of petrichor hung in the air, fresh and sweet.

“Are you looking forward to the wedding, then?” Edward asked, after a few moments of silence.

“I don’t know. Are they nice?”

Edward was a little taken aback by this. “Oh. Well, I suppose you haven’t been to a wedding before. I wouldn’t say they arenice. They’re crowded and busy, and the poor newlyweds don’t even have time to smile at each other. I’ve always felt that weddings are for the guestsrather than the couple who are celebrating their wedding. But ours will be different. It will be smaller and quieter, and we can celebrate properly.”

Alex gave him a smile, his face lit up by childish excitement. “Will there be cake?”

Edward bit back a smile.

At last, he looks like a proper eight-year-old, not a serious grown man stuck in a child’s body.

“Of course, there’ll be cake,” he answered. “Lots of it, too. You can eat as much as you want and be sick afterward.”

Alex pulled a face. “I think I will eat a lot, but not enough to be sick. Do you think Miss Belmont likes cake?”

“I would be surprised if she didn’t. Everybody likes cake.”

“Not Grandmother. She hates sweet things. She told me so.”

Edward pursed his lips. “Well, we can’t all be alike, can we?”

Alex considered this. “No, I suppose we can’t.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Edward confirmed that the groom was a good way back, well out of earshot.

Clearing his throat, he urged his horse a little closer to Alex’s. The path was so narrow, so they were forced to ride single file, and Alex had ended up leading the way. At least thisway, Edward could keep an eye on him without having to keep twisting around.

“I had hoped to talk to you about something important, Alex.”

The boy twisted around in the saddle. “Am I in trouble, Papa?”

“Trouble? No. We don’t talk a lot, you and I, do we? That’s a pity.”