Page 26

Jacob had dreamed of plenty of things in his life—family, success, and purpose, among others.

Today, as he watched his handpicked workers unveil the Hawthorne sign above the new tea shop, on Strand itself, no less, his chest almost grew two whole sizes.

Father remained a key character in the running of the Hawthorne Enterprise empire.

But, somehow, between Jacob’s marriage and one episode of near apoplexy, Alastor Hawthorne had begun to cede more control to his capable son.

As a result, Hawthorne’s had prospered in the past few years not just in terms of pure financial gain, but in the form of an improved reputation as well.

No longer was the tea dull and watered-down; no longer did underpaid workers grumble about their day.

Now, Hawthorne’s new location sparkled across the street from the famous Twinings itself, undaunted by the competition and optimistic of a bright future for all London tea houses.

“All you’re missing is a proper queue of black hair down the back.

” His wife sidled up next to him, enchanting eyes alight.

Five years of marriage, and two pregnancies, had softened her, in both nature and physique.

And while his other colleagues often teased him for being overly attached to his exotic wife, Jacob truly believed there was no one more perfect than his darling Amelia.

He chuckled at her comment before pressing a kiss to her brow. “Do you think it suits me?”

She leaned back slightly to examine the hint of a Manchurian collar he’d had his tailor add to his waistcoat.

Somehow, after a season of grieving the lost legacy that she’d never had, Amelia had decided to embrace her heritage in full instead.

And now, everything in Hawthorne’s bore the gentlest touch of chinoiserie—from the teacups to the decor to the attire of the young new master.

It had utterly delighted Jacob’s father-in-law, and earned them a valuable patron in Sir George.

“I think everything suits you.” Amelia smiled before propping herself up for an impulsive kiss. He indulged her, given their relative privacy to the side of the counter. And soon enough, he was indulging himself instead.

“Papa! Papa!” A set of pudgy feet approached with footsteps as loud as his voice. The elder of their twin boys appeared, his usual pout in fine form. “Gavin pushed me!”

“Harvey pushed me first!” Gavin arrived right after, slighter of frame yet equally fierce, a tiny Amelia in male form. “And Annie tripped because of it.”

“Annie!” Amelia cried, quickly rushing off to find their one-year-old daughter, a brown-eyed beauty destined to break hearts one day.

How a sweet-natured child could have been born of his and Amelia’s excitable natures was a mystery, but there was no denying the origin of her bewitching, almond-shaped eyes.

Jacob crouched down to look his sons in the eye. “Gavin, Harvey—I take it both of you have been doing more pushing than you should have?”

Grim faces and guilty eyes abounded.

“Now,” said Jacob, “do you know how many brothers and sisters I have?”

“None,” said Gavin.

“And you always wanted one,” said Harvey.

“Yes, more than one.” Jacob smiled. “And is it a good thing to have a brother?”

“Very good,” both boys recited from memory, begrudgingly.

Jacob grinned. “And if God gives us a brother, or a sister, what does that mean we have to be?”

“A good brother.” Again, came the answer in unison.

“Does a good brother push or shove?”

“No.”

“Does a good brother apologize when he hurts someone else?”

The twins glanced each other’s way for a good two seconds, and then they embraced.

Jacob stood up, unfolding his long limbs. One day, those boys might tower over him. But he was happy to do all the towering over his growing brood for now.

“Did she fall?” Amelia rushed towards the back room for her daughter, relieved to find the babe smiling cherubically, in the arms of Amelia’s own cousin. “Oh, Jem, you’ve arrived! Where is the nursemaid?”

“I can never stay away from this darling.” Her dear cousin, smile almost as bright as on her wedding day, beamed at little Annie.

Behind her, Jem’s little boy, not much older than Annie himself, toddled in, arrayed in his handsome morning suit.

Lady or otherwise, a mother was a mother first. Amelia smiled and stooped down to greet little Dorian.

“Rebekah!” Outside the open door, quarrel forgotten, Harvey and Gavin ran for their favorite female cousin. The ladies inside laughed.

“If those two ever gain a modicum of Rebekah’s decorum, I would be ever so grateful.” Amelia grinned as she stood up once more. “Where is Graham?”

“He shall arrive shortly. He is meeting with a new client today.”

“Another titled client, I presume?”

Jem beamed with pride. “Only a viscount.”

“ Only a viscount?” Amelia laughed. Childhood dreams and female fancies were one thing—living them out was far more challenging and far more rewarding than one could ever imagine. “Oh, Jem, what a joy it is to revel in our husbands’ achievements.”

“Indeed it is.” Jem smiled warmly.

The commotion outside the back room grew, and Amelia, after assuring herself that Annie was indeed unharmed and as angelic as ever, stepped back out into the fray.

The number of guests, as well as the number of reporters, seemed to have doubled during the course of their short tete-a-tete.

A quick survey of the main room reassured her that everything was in order for the day—with servers at the ready and all the china sparkling.

To the left of the entrance, on the largest blank wall of the tea house, sat a large painting of four Chinese ladies, a faithful replica of the image on Amelia’s beloved jewelry box.

It had taken some time for her to readjust to the idea of embracing her mother’s heritage.

But she was ever so glad that she now did.

“Mr. and Mrs. Martin Fitzwater,” the butler announced, his formal manners making Amelia laugh for their having decided to bring him along.

She’d thought it wise to bring along almost all their household servants to help with what one hoped would be a busy day for Hawthorne’s and for the family at large, but she hadn’t expected him to start announcing their guests.

She rushed over to greet her parents. There would never be any warm affection on her part for Mother, but the years had taught her to stop begrudging the older woman’s former desire to see Amelia settled.

If parenting came with its challenges, then surely step-parenting could only be more difficult, not less.

“Mr. Pope and Lady Dorothea Pope,” came the next announcement.

“Thea!” Amelia flew to her cousin’s side, glad to see her happy as ever on her husband’s arm, her wide girth a visible reminder of an impending new arrival. Three-year-old Arthur held tight to his mother’s hand, the spitting image of his father, with a patterned waistcoat as bold as his.

“Still running about, Amy?” Thea scolded with a twinkle in her eye. “I thought you would've grown out of that by now.”

Amelia laughed. She had grown up plenty, but she would forever be the youngest and most exuberant amongst their little trio of cousins, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Thank you for joining us today.” She smiled. “I’d worried you might not have been able to, given your condition.”

“All is well.” Thea’s returning smile was as dear as ever. Arthur tugged at his mother’s hand, his eyes already straying to his second cousins. Thea reminded the child to take his bow before permitting him to go play with the rest.

“Is my wife being a good hostess?” Jacob appeared behind Amelia then, a warm hand on the small of her back.

Amelia smiled back at her husband. “I am never a bad hostess.”

“Oh? I seem to recall the one time that you thought you’d called for tea and yet?—”

Amelia shoved him playfully on the side, earning her the smile she loved so much from him. “I will acknowledge that I am sometimes a distracted hostess, but never a bad one!”

Their party chuckled together, conversing blithely and politely, their circle widening naturally when Graham and Jem came to join them.

The children squealed in the background, their energy heightened by each other’s presence.

The nursemaids chased after their wards, and Amelia figured the servants would need an extra half-day after this entire ordeal.

“The Earl and Countess of Aldbury!” Their over-eager butler announced, and all the guests and journalists shuffled eagerly for a glimpse of such honorable guests.

Thea, Jem, and their husbands turned to pay their respects, and Amelia lingered slightly as she waited for the earl to inch his way successfully into the crowd.

She felt Jacob’s kiss on the side of her brow. “You do have a thing or two for connections, my dear.”

Amelia laughed. “The only reason you married me, wasn’t it?”

“Not at all, there was also the dowry.”

“And the ties to royalty, I’ve heard.”

“Oh, yes, highly important.”

“Especially for a man trading tea.”

“Practically non-negotiable.”

“Of course.”

They grinned at each other, warmth and joy and love pulsing between them. He leaned closer, taking full advantage of the momentary privacy before they had to take their turn greeting the earl.

“I would have taken you, my darling Amelia, rich or poor, princess or pauper,” he whispered softly.

Amelia smiled, her heart bursting. “And I would have gladly married you, highwaymen or otherwise.”

“I think Betsy made you so jealous you found me irresistible.”

Amelia laughed. “Of course, no wonder you had Mrs. Wilmark send her along.”

“I’m nothing if not strategic.”

“And charming. ”

“And handsome. Don’t forget handsome.”

She smiled as she pecked him on the cheek. “All that and so much more.”