Page 58 of Miss Hawthorne’s Unlikely Husband (The Troublemakers Trilogy #3)

Lodge Hall, Cumbria,

“T heo, go get jiùfù!”

That sounded like Thomas, Basil and Ada’s eldest son.

“No! You go get him, Ellie.”

“Umm,” the uncertainty in the voice of Basil and Ada’s eldest told Elodia what was coming next. “Gigi, go get your diē.”

“Ok!” Giselle said before the door to the bedroom opened wider.

Elodia turned her face into Richard’s chest, fighting back a smile. Their youngest daughter was a fearless little thing. Half of that was her personality and the other half was how effectively she’d placed her father under her tiny thumb.

She and Richard were hosting a full house this spring.

Regina and Leo were in London, using the season to push more legislative change through parliament along with her father, but their four children and Naomi were staying at Lodge Hall with them.

Basil and Ada were also staying with their two children.

Of course, this meant that there were five adults to manage around ten children, three of which were notorious for showing up in their parents’ bedrooms before dawn. Just like their Aunt Ada.

There was a soft patter of feet before Giselle began tugging on Richard’s arm.

“Diē,” her little voice came. Richard’s body jerked back and forth but he didn’t move. Elodia kept her eyes closed and her face down. If she didn’t move, she could likely get away with not having to leave her warm bed and her soft covers.

Richard grumbled and sighed. Then Elodia heard a muffled squeak and a small body ended up wedged between her and her husband. Giselle squirmed, trying to get her father’s attention.

“Diē,” she whispered.

“What is it, Zhenlin?” he mumbled. He only ever referred to her by her Chinese name, especially at home.

“Come look!” she insisted.

“No.”

“Come!” she whined.

“Where am I going?”

“The garden.”

He groaned. “Absolutely not.”

“Diē, the tree.”

The tree?

“Which tree?”

“The pes-mon tree.”

“What’s wrong with it?” He sounded more awake now.

“It’s spotted.”

Richard untangled his limbs from Elodia and sat up. “What do you mean by that?”

“Flowers, diē, there are hundreds of them,” their eldest, Alexander, spoke up.

Elodia sat up at that, her eyes wide. They had waited years for a sign that the trees would be more than decorative. A failed experiment. Richard shot her a playful glare. “Oh, you’re awake now, are you?”

She rolled her eyes and slid out of the bed in her nightgown. “Go on out, children, we’ll join you in a moment.” She watched the two eldest, Alexander and Emmeline, usher the younger ones out to the hall before closing the door behind them.

“Trust Basil and Ada to leave them all to us,” he grumbled, sliding out of the bed in his loose linen drawers.

“You don’t know that they aren’t awake.”

He gave her a pointed look, “Believe me, if they are, we wouldn’t know it.”

She turned to her husband. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” he replied.

“Do you think they are mistaken?” she asked, pulling on her heavy house robe and sliding her feet into her slippers.

“I don’t think so, flowers are flowers after all.” He pulled on his trousers and a shirt before reaching for his own robe.

He didn’t look at her even when he was finished dressing.

If she knew her husband as well as she believed she did, he was trying desperately to keep his emotions under control.

He paused at the door and held out his hand for her.

She strode forward and took it, meeting his silent request for support.

His hands were cold, which was unusual for him.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, before lifting his head, opening his eyes and leaving their bedroom hand in hand.

They were greeted by a crowd of children, all within the ages of eight and four dressed in their nightwear.

“All right, let’s go,” Richard said. Their youngest, Gigi, held up her hands in the universal request to be picked up and he automatically bent over to scoop her up into his arms.

It was a wonder the girl ever learned to walk at all.

That was when Elodia noticed her dirty feet. Except there wasn’t just dirt there, there were dried leaves as well.

“Miss Gigi, where are your shoes?” she asked. Richard looked down and his hand closed around her tiny, no doubt ice cold foot.

“Did you go outside without your shoes again?” he asked. She blinked up at him with her wide brown eyes, no doubt considering the merits of lying. She wasn’t malicious, but she was proving to be an ‘act first and see if forgiveness is strictly necessary’ sort of person.

“They were leaving me behind,” she whined. Elodia twisted her mouth against a smile. Whenever her little girl knew her answer was not going to do her any favors, she answered with the justification.

“That is not what I asked.”

“They wouldn’t wait for me.”

“Irrelevant. You do not leave your room without your house slippers, let alone the house, am I understood?”

She frowned, her little cupid bow mouth twisting in frustration.

“Dearest, what if you caught a chill?” Elodia asked, stroking her small back. She grumbled and laid her head on Richard’s shoulder.

“What if you were bitten by a snake or a rat?” Richard asked, a scheming glint in his eyes. “What if you stepped on a rusty nail and we had to cut off this adorable little foot?”

Her head came up and her eyes were wide with alarm. “Chop off my foot?” She didn’t like the sound of that at all.

“Oh yes.”

“Then you’d need a peg leg, Gigi,” Alexander joked with a glint in his eye too much like his father.

“You’ll sound like the La diablesse when you walk,” Emmeline added.

She whimpered and buried her face in his shoulder again, and Elodia frowned at her eldest. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but in the end pursed his lips and faced forward as they continued the trek down to the garden.

“I don’t want to be like the la diabesse,” she mumbled, fumbling the name of the mythological creature.

Richard fought back a smile and nodded. “Neither do I, that is why the rule is in place, my love.”

“But…but—”

“Your brother will wait for you from now on, won’t you, Ningkai?” Richard asked.

Elodia saw Alex roll his eyes, “Yes fùqīn,” he replied. “Brat,”

Giselle’s head came up, her eyes flashing with outrage. “Di—”

“You scored your point, Gigi. Let it go now.”

The little girl pouted again, but she pressed her face into her father’s neck while Richard fought valiantly against a laugh.

The children were always either inseparable or at each other’s throats.

Alex had adored his baby sister from the moment she was born, but the little girl was at her core a bossy bit of business who ultimately knew exactly how adorable she was.

“Diē, am I a brat?” her little voice came, clearly attempting a different tactic.

“Yes,” Richard replied flatly.

“Really?”

“Yes. But we still love you. You are our brat.”

That seemed to placate her for the time being. Elodia pulled him towards her and slid her arms around his shoulders as they finally reached the back door to the gardens.

It was cold in the garden. Spring was still lingering in the damp morning air.

Beside the greenhouse, there were a patch of trees.

They started forward, the children close behind, and Elodia saw it.

Hundreds of yellow flowers dotted the branches of two rows of trees, three rows deep.

On the right they were short and close to the branch shaped like stars, but on the left they were forming clusters like upside down pots.

Proof of life. Proof that five years of consistent and deliberate care hadn’t gone to waste. Life had taken root despite all odds and would continue a tradition.

Elodia glanced at Richard and saw the water glistening in the corner of his eyes. She hooked her arms around his and he let out a shuddering breath. “Ellie,” he whispered.

“I see them,” she replied, pressing a kiss to his arm.

“Jiùfù, mǔ qīn says that it takes these trees five years to flower,” Emmeline said.

“That’s true.”

“Does this mean we get persimmons this year?” Theo, Regina and Leo’s first son asked. He and his twin brother Galen were peering up at the trees in fascination.

Richard shook his head, “No, Theo. They have to bloom twice before they give fruit. Five to flower, seven to bear fruit.”

“So we have to wait another seven years?” Theodosia asked.

“No, silly, it’ll be the year after next. Right fùqīn?” Alex asked.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“That’s still a long time to wait,” Galen mumbled.

“Diē, I’m cold,” Gigi whimpered.

“Ningkai, will you take your mèimei inside?”

“Yes fùqīn,” he said, accepting the sleepy bundle into his arms while she curled around him with perfect trust.

“All of you should go in now. Don’t catch a cold.”

“Yes, go wake up your parents, Zhenfu,” Richard called out. Emmeline, as she was otherwise known, grinned and ran back to the house.

“Still a little prankster,” Elodia commented, sliding her arm around his waist.

“Mmmm,”

“Well done.” She gave him a small squeeze. “You waited a long time for this confirmation.”

“We aren’t there yet. As Alex said, it will take two more years before we know for certain.”

“True, but I have yet to see you fail at something you set your mind to,” she replied.

“Likewise,” he replied, giving her a sidelong glance.

“Are you implying something about me?” she asked.

“What’s the use of implying?” he teased. “I got my orchard, I got my family at long last.”

“Mmmm, and I got you.”

“We got each other.” He gestured to the male and female trees, planted side by side to pollinate the other. “Like these, one doesn’t work without the other.”

Et Fin