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His son shook his head earnestly. “Just because you’re missing half a leg doesn’t make you a bad man, Father. You heard what Miss Gabby said. You don’t even need a fibula.”

Lost for words, Cassian instinctively met Gabby’s midnight eyes.

She was watching him intently, and Cassian suddenly had the thought that his next words would be judged as harshly as he was.

“I ken it doesnae make me a bad man, lad.” His words were for his son, but his attention was on her. “But…sometimes I feel like half a man.”

“You’ve worked hard to be able to walk again,” Gus announced firmly, his brow puckered and his gaze fierce. “And Miss Gabby is an expert, you should trust her. Do you know that when she was a little girl, she had a cat who was run over by a carriage and lost a leg?”

Cassian glanced at his son, but felt his gaze returning to her as his voice dropped low. “I didnae ken that, Gus. Did the cat survive?”

Gabby’s chin dropped and she looked away, her cheeks turning a delicious shade of pink that made him want to taste her again?—

Shite, stop thinking of it. Getting a cockstand at tea is going to be fooking inconvenient.

“Oh yes,” Gus continued, oblivious to the tension between his father and his newest friend.

“She’s ever so good with injuries, she says, and she healed the cat and taught him to walk again, just like you’ve learned to walk without a cane sometimes.

You should have her look at your leg and make sure you’re walking properly. ”

Good with my hands .

That’s what Gabby had said the very first day they’d met, when she’d fallen into his arms.

Now she toasted him with her tea, the slightest tilt of her head telling him she agreed with his son. “Walking, riding, even running?—”

“Riding!” Gus exclaimed, bouncing lightly on the sofa at his side. “I could help you with that, Father!”

He… wanted to spend time with Cassian? Trying not to appear too eager and frighten the lad off, Cassian nodded. “I…I would like that,” he managed roughly. “I can manage a horse, but no’ as well as I once did.”

“Tomorrow morning?” Gus demanded eagerly, and Cassian could only nod mutely, overwhelmed with the offer and his son’s enthusiasm .

“Oh, that is a wonderful idea, lad!” Aunt Zilphia announced, clapping her hands together. “Cassian, do allow Gabby to help you!” So she thinks massaging a man’s naked leg is acceptable for an unmarried woman, but no’ talking about pregnancy? “If she could heal her pussy, she could help you!”

Only fifteen years of undercover work allowed him to keep his expression neutral, although Gabby choked on her tea.

Gus, on the other, was nodding eagerly. “You said your leg was tight, right? Well, I helped her massage Catherine’s leg?—”

“That is Dickie’s favorite armadillo,” supplied Aunt Zilphia helpfully.

“—and Miss Gabby did a brilliant job. She walked so much better after it. Oh, please say she can work on you?”

Helplessly, Cassian glanced between his eager son and the blushing woman staring into her tea. “I…” He cleared his throat. “If Miss Gabby could work her magic on my mangled leg, I would welcome her expertise.”

And her touch .

A flash of dark blue from beneath auburn lashes told him she’d heard the unspoken words too.

Gus, on the other hand, was still bouncing enthusiastically like the child he still was. “And if the massage doesn’t work, you could always just ask her to regrow your foot.”

Vaguely he heard Aunt Zilphia suck in a breath, but Cassian was already rounding, incredulous, on his son.

“What?” He shook his head. “Humans cannae regrow feet, Gus. They’re no’ frogs or something.

Wait, do frogs regrow their legs? Is that why we keep eating them?

Is there a frog-leg-harvesting scheme going on someplace? ”

“Probably France,” Zilphia offered. “That seems like something the French would do.”

“I believe you are thinking of salamanders.” Was Gabby’s hand shaking slightly as she replaced her cup on the saucer? “They can regenerate limbs.”

But Gus was shaking his head seriously. “I meant , Miss Gabby has a piece of magic lace that can heal one person if you burn it and make a wish on it—so if you really, really wanted your foot back, you could burn it and wish real hard and your foot would come back. Then you would feel whole again and you wouldn’t be scared about having to leave me. ”

Cassian stared.

Dimly, he was aware the two women were staring too, but he couldn’t tear his incredulous gaze away from his son to confirm it. Gus’s fingers were entwined tightly in front of him, and there was a desperation on his wee face that Cassian had never seen before.

Is that what his son thought? That he was afraid about leaving him?

Are ye no’?

Nay. Not afraid.

He was terrified of having to leave Gus. Of abandoning him yet again, only this time against his will. Not for the first time—or even the nine hundredth—Cassian cursed Prince Christian Victor. A man is born the grandson of Queen Victoria, and he thinks he owns the world .

“Gus—” he began, his voice a mere rasp.

“It’s true, Father! Miss Gabby told me the whole story!”

There was a delicate clearing of a throat, and Gabby spoke.

“I told Gus a story about a…an inheritance I was surprised to receive shortly before Hunter and I traveled to Inverlochy. The woman who gave it to me was quite eccentric, and she claimed to have been given this piece of lace from a magician in New Orleans.”

“That’s in America!” Gus added helpfully.

“Oh, my cousin married a man from New Orleans,” Aunt Zilphia supplied. “He was an importer. Or perhaps an exporter. He did something with boats, I remember that. Big boats…”

Cassian swallowed, forcing himself to turn and rejoin the conversation, but was unable to stop himself from moving closer to his son, so their shoulders touched. Just to remind himself that Gus was here, with him.

For now.

While he was trying to look interested, Zilphia clapped her hands again in delight. “Oh, tell us everything, my dear! Dickie and I adore a good witchy story!”

Cassian thought he saw apology in Gabby’s dark eyes as she began the fanciful story about the stained bit of lace—apparently kept in her luggage—and the magic it supposedly contained.

She finished with a shrug. “And, as Gus said, burning it and making a wish is said to magically heal one ailment of any kind. ”

“See?” the lad demanded. “We could wish for your foot to grow back!”

“Oh, how fascinating!” Aunt Zilphia announced proudly. “It reminds me of that shaman gentleman we met in Australia. Your uncle danced with him around the fire and had ever so much stamina that evening, if you catch my drift.”

“I do, Aunt Zilphia.” And let us hope Gus doesnae . “But surely magic lace cannae cure me—cannae grow back limbs.”

Gabby winced again and began to shake her head, then glanced to the lad at Cassian’s side. He didn’t have to look down to know his son was beaming hopefully, so he appreciated when she turned her grimace into a non-committal shrug.

“I do not know if it works for certain, only what Lady Mistree told me,” she said diplomatically.

“Oh, Lady Mistree!” burbled Zilphia enthusiastically. “Now there is a wonderfully adventurous soul! She has been to more countries than Dickie and me! Of course, her collections were small, easy-to-transport things, whereas we just had to bring home ostriches. Why, there was one time…”

As the older woman launched into a story, one that had Gus chortling away happily, Cassian exchanged glances with Gabby.

One side of her lips tugged upwards as she saluted him with her cup and saucer, and he recognized it as a peace offering.

Ah, good. She no more believed the fanciful tale about the scrap of magic lace than Cassian did—but she’d kept the mystery alive for his son. He wasn’t sure if that was kinder than telling the lad there was no such thing as magic.

“Am I too late?” boomed Sir Richard from the doorway, startling them all.

His wife, who’d stopped mid-sentence, gave an audible sigh of relief and turned to him with her arms open. “No, but it is about time, my sweet pea! I have had to make small talk!”

Chuckling, their host all-but-bounded across the room to his wife’s side. “But you’re ever so good at it. Budge up there, angel, that’s a good girl,” he commanded, sliding next to her on the chaise.

Aunt Zilphia would have pitched forward to the floor had Sir Richard not caught her and pulled her back…and more or less draped her across his lap. The older woman tittered happily and patted at his chest as her husband beamed at the gathered group.

“Now, what have I missed? Did you start the proceedings?”

Proceedings?

“No, Dickie, sweet pea, I thought you would like to do it.”

“Quite right.” Suddenly, the round man sat forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped, and pierced Cassian with a stern look. “Well lad, you might be wondering why I called you here today.”

Cassian’s gaze darted to Zilphia—who he’d thought had been the one to invite him—then back to her husband. “Is it about my carriage’s extended warranty?”

“It’s about Inverlochy, lad, and what’s going to happen to it after I die. ”

Surprised, Cassian glanced down at Gus, who was looking serious, then Aunt Zilphia. “But sir…that willnae be for a long while yet.”

“Aye, but it’ll happen.” Blowing out a breath, Sir Richard straightened and took his wife’s hand. “As you know, for a long time, Augustus has been my heir. Inverlochy Castle—which I designed myself, because being ridiculously wealthy has its perks—will one day be his.”

Even fifteen years of experience undercover couldn’t keep Cassian from reacting. His jaw dropped and he groped for his son’s knee as an anchor. “Gus?”

Sir Richard frowned. “You didn’t know?”

Mutely, Cassian shook his head, words a struggle. “I dinnae realize…Sir Richard, he is?—”

“Dickie,” the man said sternly. “Everyone else in this damned place calls me Dickie— Uncle Dickie —and you bloody well can as well. Excuse my language, Miss Butcombe.”

“Of course, Uncle Dickie,” said the woman named butt-cum quite pertly, her smirk telling the world she was aware of the humor.

But Cassian was still shaking his head. “Sir Ri—Sir Dickie, ye are really certain?—”

“Zilphia and I never had children?—”

“Never wanted any either,” his wife announced primly. “Although we had a lovely time practicing the mechanics. Do you remember, Dickie, that veranda in Cairo during a lightning storm? Or was it Kuala Lumpur? ”

Dimly, Cassian wondered how anyone could confuse those two places, but the rest of him was focused on the revelation he’d just heard. He squeezed Gus’s knee and turned to meet his son’s gaze.

“I love Inverlochy,” the lad whispered, desperation in his eyes. “This…this is my home.”

And in that moment, Cassian realized two things:

His son had always known this place would one day be his, and

There was no way Cassian could ever consider removing Gus from Inverlochy Castle, even if it was to find a place for them together.

This meant that Cassian was going to have to work out how to have a future here…or risk being separated from his son.

But how could he imagine having a place here, when he was so completely useless?

Clearing his throat however, he nodded, then turned back to Sir Rich— Uncle Dickie and nodded again. “I—thank ye. Kenning Gus has a place?—”

“He’s not my heir any longer,” the older man announced suddenly. “Ye are.”

It wasn’t until Gus whooped and threw his arm around Cassian that Cassian really understood what the man had said.

Nay, wait, that wasn’t true. He didn’t understand what the older man had said. He’d heard the words, but their meaning …

“ What ?” Cassian managed to rasp incredulously.

“We love you too, lad,” announced Zilphia— Aunt Zilphia primly. “We want you to have a place here at Inverlochy.”

“Aye,” her husband agreed gruffly, standing and pulling her with him. “It was Zilly’s idea. We thought, if you know Inverlochy Castle will be yours one day, you’ll take care of it now.”

“And Augustus will still own it one day, since he is your heir,” Zilphia added, beaming. “A brilliant plan, is it not?”

Slowly, both his legs weak and shaking, Cassian pushed himself to his feet, his incredulous gaze darting between the couple. He felt Gus bouncing beside him, and the lad’s small hand slipped into his.

“I…I dinnae understand. Sir Dickie?—”

“ Uncle Dickie,” the other man corrected gruffly. “We’re family. That’s what we’re trying to tell you, lad. You’re family, you and Gus, and you need a place as much as I need to know everything I’ve built will be in good hands, one day.”

“And we need to know that you will be here, Cassian,” said Aunt Zilphia softly. “Not just for Augustus, but for us too. We need to know that you know that you belong here.”

Christ.

Holy fooking Christ.

For the first time in almost twelve years—the first time since he’d held his baby son—Cassian felt tears welling in his eyes. You belong here .

He squeezed Gus’s hand tightly, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat…and wondered how in the hell he was supposed to respond to that.

They wanted him.

They wanted to keep him.

Ye have a place .

Cassian’s knees buckled, his left leg suddenly too weak to support him…

but Uncle Dickie was there, wrapping his arms around him in a hug, holding him up.

Then Aunt Zilphia joined them. Cassian threw his arms around both of them, feeling Gus pressed against their knot, and buried his head in the older man’s shoulder.

The tears seeped from the corners of his tightly squeezed eyes, but he didn’t care. As Aunt Zilphia blathered on about tradition and family and her mother’s heirloom sapphires, Cassian’s rasped, “ Thank ye ,” was almost lost.

But when Uncle Dickie patted his back roughly, Cassian knew he’d been heard.

Thank ye.

Not for the promise of riches down the road, but for acceptance.

Love.

Home.

A family.

In one simple gesture, Uncle Dickie and Aunt Zilphia had given him all that.

A place to belong .

A forever.

Struggling for control, Cassian lifted his head…

And met Gabby’s eyes.

She still sat there, her lips pressed together, a handkerchief pressed against her lips, tears streaming from shining eyes. Celebrating silently with them—not intruding, but reveling with them.

For him.

And suddenly, Cassian realized what this meant.

As Sir Richard Biggenpans’s heir, he had a place. He had a future.

He had something to offer.

And with that possibility, with the knowledge that he was no longer in limbo, he could start building that future.

He could woo another wife. He could find happiness. He could make offers.

And he knew where he wanted to start.