Page 57

A shrill, excitable cry echoed throughout Penhollow Estate.

It was a regular occurrence for Lowen; his son Benjamin made good use of the space within the manor, happily running the halls like a racehorse.

Much to Lowen’s chagrin, and the staff’s—though none would ever dare speak ill of the little Marquess, indulging him with as much good humor as his father did.

“I’m going to Eton! I’m going to Eton!” Benjamin burst through the doors of the breakfast room, an apologetic governess in tow, and took his seat beside Lowen.

Helena, seated on the other side of Lowen, raised an eyebrow in warning. “Is that any way to enter a room?”

“I’m terribly sorry, Your Grace! We’ve been working on etiquette—” the governess began, but Helena waved her worries away.

“You’ve been wonderful, Miss Sedley. The girls speak nothing but praise for you,” she assured the governess before turning her attention to her son. “Benny, we’ve told you—you’ve two years before you’re off to Eton.”

Benjamin gripped the edge of the table, as if to shake it in emphasis. “Why can’t I go now? Peter’s already starting!”

Peter, the son of a neighboring merchant, was Benjamin’s dearest friend—and two years his senior.

“You’re too young,” Lowen interjected. “Besides, why so eager to leave us?”

“Because Cecilia and Eloise only want to play with dolls, and when I want to play something, they never follow the rules,” Benjamin huffed, fixing his sisters—five years his junior—with a glare.

The twins, oblivious to his frustration, remained engrossed in their dolls, ignoring both their brother and their untouched toast and eggs.

Helena leaned over to push their plates closer in an attempt to draw their attention to their food, but it was to no avail. The girls were always lost in their own world, utterly obsessed with one another.

Lowen had been concerned about their attachment at first, until Helena—herself a twin—reassured him that this was exactly how it had been between her and Felicity growing up.

The girls’ tight bond fostered an impressive level of independence.

If Cecilia learned something new, she would teach it to Eloise, and vice versa.

However, it often left Benjamin feeling left out.

To rectify this, Helena and Lowen made an effort to spend as much time as possible with all three of their children. As a result, Lowen had little time alone with his wife. Not that either of them minded terribly—Lowen hated a quiet house, and Helena had energy to rival the children’s.

“And what do you want to play, Benny?” Helena asked.

“I want to fight like Gentleman John Jackson!” he declared, balling his hands into fists and striking the air.

Helena’s eyes met Lowen’s, her expression subtly displeased—he stifled the urge to sink into his chair.

This was entirely his fault for teaching their son about pugilism.

The consequence wasn’t just his wife’s censure but also Benjamin’s antics—running about the house with his fists up as if battling a phantom.

“You’re not hitting your sisters, are you?” Lowen asked firmly.

“No!”

“And Peter?”

“No! Never.” Benjamin turned his small face toward Lowen, his voice softening. “You said only bad people hurt others. I’m not bad,” he added meekly.

“No, you’re not,” Lowen reassured him gently. “But your mother is afraid you might accidentally hit someone.”

“I won’t! I’m really careful!”

“If you insist on playing the pugilist, then I ask that you do it outside,” said Helena.

“I will. But Mama, you have to watch!”

“I will watch.”

“And you have to cheer!”

“I will cheer,” she promised with a smile.

Benjamin grinned widely, showing off his newly missing canine. He then slid off his chair and approached Lowen, gripping the arms of his father’s chair as he gently swayed. “What are you doing today, Papa?”

Lowen looked down at him. Out of habit, he was tempted to take Benjamin into his lap, but his son had recently insisted he was much too old for that now. “Riding out to a farm today to inspect damage from a recent fire,” he answered. “It shouldn’t take very long.”

“May I come with you?”

“You may, but—” Lowen glanced at the governess, who was assisting Helena in yet another attempt to feed the twins. “What lessons does Benjamin have today?”

“Oh, the children were supposed to have their dance lessons today, but their instructor has taken ill,” she replied.

Benjamin began marching his feet giddily. “No dancing! No dancing!”

“Your lucky day, Benny,” said Lowen. “I had planned to leave within the hour, but you’ve not eaten. You won’t be able to join me if you don’t eat.”

With a frantic gasp, Benjamin ran back to his seat and voraciously attacked the plate of food a servant had laid out for him earlier.

The family then parted ways, with Benjamin insisting that he ride a horse alongside Lowen. However, as he was much too small, a compromise was struck. They would travel to the farm in a gig, with Benjamin holding the reins—under Lowen’s strict supervision, of course.

Benjamin happily chatted the entire journey, occasionally distracting himself from keeping his attention on the road ahead.

His amiable, talkative nature was so much like Helena’s, despite being a little replica of his namesake, and Lowen knew without a doubt that his brother would have adored his nephew and the girls as well.

For the first four years of his life, Benjamin had been greatly attached to Helena, much to Lowen’s embarrassing envy.

Not that Lowen begrudged his wife the attention—his concern was far more personal.

He had worried, deeply and often, that he was failing as a father.

But now, Benjamin was his shadow.

And he was growing much too fast, as were his precious girls.

White petals fluttered overhead as Cecilia and Eloise gleefully hurled handfuls of torn flowers into the air.

They were playing at brides, inspired by a wedding they had witnessed in the village just a few days ago, where the bride had walked under a cascade of flowers.

The sight had utterly enchanted them, and their latest obsession was staging pretend weddings—though they firmly insisted that no grooms were necessary.

Much to Lowen’s relief. He had nearly wept at the mere thought of their future debut, only to be reminded by Helena that he needn’t worry for at least another thirteen years .

Helena smiled at the thought—fatherhood suited him well. The children adored him, perhaps even more so than they did her. She didn’t have the strength he did, to lift them overhead and spin them around endlessly until they squealed in delight, overcome by laughter and exhilaration.

The twins—and Benjamin—also adored their dear Aunt Thomasin, who still lived at Penhollow Park.

Unmarried and content, she spent her days painting.

She had recently completed another family portrait of the Roskelleys, continuing a tradition Lowen had begun before Benjamin’s birth.

It was his way of preserving memories—of their younger faces, and those of their children—before the years carried them into their own lives.

Though that time was still far off, it struck Helena as bittersweet.

She resolved, then, to savor every moment.

And in truth, she suspected she might be increasing again.

She hadn’t said anything yet, she would wait a few more weeks before surprising Lowen.

It wouldn’t come as a shock. Even after ten years, their affection had never waned.

If anything, it had deepened, especially after the somewhat troublesome birth of the twins.

She had labored nearly two days, and Lowen never left her side. He neither ate nor slept, simply wiped her brow and soothed her with quiet words and gentle caresses—until finally, Cecelia, the one they had long awaited, entered the world.

Absentmindedly, Helena rubbed her belly and wondered what the chances were of having another set of twins.

The girls ran a little farther down the meadow, gathering more flowers as Helena watched from her perch beneath the thick shade of a sprawling tree.

It had been a few hours since Lowen and Benjamin had ridden off, and she knew they’d return soon.

Yet even after all this time, the mere thought of Lowen still sent her heart racing with anticipation.

She couldn’t resist sneaking glances over her shoulder, just in case he and their son were already making their way back to her.

To distract herself, Helena nibbled on a piece of cheese.

Cook had been kind enough to pack a veritable feast for the family, but the girls had eaten very little, too distracted by their antics.

Despite being only five and full of boundless energy, their personalities mirrored Lowen’s—they were quiet little things, with observational skills far sharper than Benjamin’s had been at their age.

Once again, Helena turned to glance behind her, and this time, luck was on her side. Benjamin’s small figure raced ahead of Lowen’s, his excitement unmistakable. Spotting her under the tree, he began to holler his arrival.

“Mama!” he called, throwing himself into her arms the moment he was close enough.

Helena strained under the weight of his body, ruefully noting how much heavier he had grown in such a short time. Surely his tenth birthday hadn’t been that long ago.

“My Benny,” she said, adjusting herself so he could settle comfortably in her lap. “How was your outing with Father?”

At the sight of Lowen, the twins shouted in unison and sprinted toward him, distracting Benjamin from his answer.

“Papa! Papa! Papa!” they cried, each vying for a spot on his lap as he took a seat beside Helena.

“Why are you both covered in flowers?” he asked, his expression curious as the girls began plucking petals from their ebony hair—only to gleefully place them in his.

“We’re playing brides!” Eloise announced proudly.

Lowen frowned. “I don’t like that game.”

“You’re a bride now too, Papa!” Cecilia declared, carefully tucking another flower behind his ear with great ceremony.

Benjamin snickered. “A very beautiful bride.”

“Of course I am,” Lowen said with a mock sniff of indignation. Then, his tone softened as he added, “But your mother far surpasses me—I daresay there was no bride more beautiful than her.”

Helena’s cheeks warmed as memories of their wedding day surfaced—so many years ago, when they had been such different people from who they were now. “Do you remember our wedding day?” she asked.

“Of course I do, love. I remember every day with you,” Lowen replied with a smile, the skin around his eyes creased, pairing with the newly sprouted grey at his temples.

“Do you remember every day with me?” Benjamin asked innocently.

“Yes, I remember every day I’ve had with each and every one of you.”

“Hmm... then what was I doing two weeks ago?” He challenged playfully.

Lowen raised a wry eyebrow at their son.

“Two weeks ago, as in when you were stung by bees because you wandered too close to the apiary after we specifically told you not to? Or two weeks ago, when I told you not to run in the gallery because the marble floor had just been polished, but you did it anyway and slipped and fell?”

Embarrassed by the reminders, Benjamin buried his face in Helena’s shoulder. “I don’t like this game,” he mumbled.

“Then maybe you can play bride with us?” Cecilia offered, leaning forward to tuck a flower into Benjamin’s hair.

Benjamin looked up at his sisters, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Very well, but I want to be something else.”

“But the game is called Bride , and you must be a bride if you want to play!” huffed Eloise.

“Only girls are brides!” Benjamin shot back.

“Not in this game!” Cecilia retorted. “You can be a bride too, even though you’re a boy!”

“Then you’re not playing the game right!”

“It’s our game! We can play it however we like!” insisted Eloise.

“Then why can’t I be something else?” Benjamin demanded, irate.

With a sigh, Helena and Lowen watched as their children continued their back-and-forth, skipping down the meadow. In the end, it seemed that Benjamin had reluctantly accepted his role as bride, spinning happily in the field while his sisters pelted him with flowers.

By the time dinner was announced, the children were positively famished and half asleep from their earlier play.

Later, Helena and Lowen lay in each other’s arms. Lovemaking with troublesome children under their roof was a precarious endeavor, but one that could still be approached with care. They were nearly asleep when the creak of their door roused them.

With a lift of her heavy head, Helena blinked against the darkness. “And who’s here this time?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

“Cecilia.”

“Eloise.”

Their little voices echoed softly in the dark, and Helena and Lowen shifted in the bed to make space for them.

As all four began to drift off to sleep, the door creaked once more, signaling another arrival. It could only be Benjamin, unwilling to be left out. He clumsily climbed onto the bed, seemingly bumping into something delicate as Lowen groaned in pain, before settling somewhere between his sisters.

This had become the family’s nightly routine—for now, at least. One day, their children would outgrow their fears, or perhaps their need for comfort from their parents.

But for the moment, Helena didn’t mind their intrusions in the slightest. She knew Lowen didn’t either.

There was nothing better than being together.

And for now, they were—always.