24. In Which Parents Reach a Decision – Ashbourne House, Grosvenor Square, London
IN WHICH PARENTS REACH A DECISION
JULIET
ASHBOURNE HOUSE, GROSVENOR SQUARE, LONDON
Iwatched my daughter and my brother across the drawing room and tried to remember when I'd stopped being afraid.
They thought they were being discreet. Charlotte sat at the pianoforte, playing something simple, while Edward stood beside her, ostensibly turning pages. But I'd been watching them for twenty minutes now, and they hadn't turned a single page.
Instead, they were talking. Quietly. Intimately. The kind of conversation that didn't require words to be meaningful.
Edward said something. Charlotte laughed—not the polite laugh she used in company, but her real laugh, the one that made her eyes crinkle at the corners. And Edward looked at her like she'd hung the moon.
"They're not even pretending anymore."
I turned. Lucas had entered the drawing room silently, and now he stood beside me, watching the same scene I'd been observing.
"No," I agreed. "They're not."
"Should we be concerned about propriety?"
"Eleanor is in the room. Reading in the corner. That's chaperonage enough." I paused. "Besides, I think we're past the point of worrying about propriety."
Lucas was quiet for a moment. Then: "He loves her."
"Yes."
"And she loves him."
"Yes."
"So what do we do?"
I looked at my husband. At Lucas, who had asked me this same question twelve years ago when we'd been forced to marry. Who had been patient with me when I was terrified. Who had waited for me to choose him instead of demanding I love him on command.
"We trust them," I said. "We trust that they know what they're doing."
"Do you believe that? That they know?"
I watched Charlotte lean slightly toward Edward as she played. Watched Edward's hand come to rest on the back of the bench, not quite touching her but close enough to be possessive. Protective.
"I believe they're figuring it out," I said. "The same way we did."
Lucas took my hand. Laced our fingers together. "I've been thinking about what you said. About how we started. About need and rescue and whether that makes love less real."
"And?"
"And I think you were right to question them. To make them examine what they feel." He paused. "But I also think we've been holding them to an impossible standard. Asking them to prove something we couldn't prove ourselves."
"That they love each other without needing each other."
"Yes. But Juliet—" Lucas turned to face me fully. "I still need you. After twelve years, five children, everything we've been through—I still need you. Does that make what we have less real?"
I thought about it. About the way I still reached for Lucas in the night. About how I consulted him on every major decision. About the way my world felt steadier when he was in it.
"No," I admitted. "It makes it more real. Because I choose to need you. I choose to let you be part of my life in ways that make me vulnerable."
"Exactly. So why are we asking Edward and Charlotte to separate need from love when we never did?"
Across the room, Charlotte finished the piece. Edward said something that made her blush, and she swatted at his arm with playful exasperation.
They looked happy. Not performing for anyone. Not trying to prove anything. Just—happy.
"I'm scared," I said quietly. "I'm scared they're making the same mistakes we made. That they're rushing into something because of crisis and scandal, and they'll spend years wondering if it's real."
"We did wonder. For a while." Lucas squeezed my hand. "But we figured it out. And they will too."
"How do you know?"
"Because I've been watching them. Really watching." Lucas nodded toward Edward and Charlotte. "He doesn't just rescue her anymore. Did you notice? At Lady Montague’s tea the other day, she was the one managing things. Teaching him. And he let her."
I had noticed. I'd been surprised by it, actually. Edward letting someone help him. Edward being vulnerable.
"And Charlotte," Lucas continued, "she's been different too. She handled Dunmore herself at Lady Hartley's musicale. Didn't wait for Edward to swoop in. Didn't need him to fix it."
"You've been paying attention."
"Of course I have. She's my daughter." Lucas smiled slightly.
I leaned against him, feeling the solid warmth of him. "When did you decide? That we should let them court?"
"When Edward came to me asking to borrow that book.
The political essays Charlotte mentioned once in passing.
" Lucas paused. "He remembered, Juliet. Something she said months ago.
Something small. That's not a man who's just using her to feel needed.
That's a man who's paying attention because he cares. "
"And Charlotte?"
"Charlotte wrote an entire plan to prove this is real.
Four steps. Eleanor showed me the notebook—don't look at me like that, our daughter has no sense of privacy.
" Lucas's smile widened. "But the point is, Charlotte is taking this seriously.
She's examining her own motives. She's trying to prove to herself that this is love, not just rescue. "
"Is that enough?"
"It's more than we did. We married first and questioned later." Lucas turned me to face him properly. "Juliet, I know you're worried. I know you see yourself at eighteen in Charlotte. But she's not you. And Edward's not me. They have a choice we didn't have. And they're choosing each other anyway."
I knew he was right. Had known it for days, if I was honest with myself.
But admitting it meant letting go. Letting Charlotte make her own choices. Letting her risk getting hurt.
"I need to talk to him," I said. "To Edward. One more time."
"What will you tell him?"
"The truth. That I was wrong to make him doubt. That I believe him now." I paused. "That I'll support this. If he still wants it after everything we've put him through."
Lucas pressed a kiss to my temple. "He'll want it. Look at him."
I looked. Edward was laughing at something Charlotte had said, his whole face transformed by genuine joy.
I'd seen Edward happy before. But never like this. Never this unguarded.
"All right," I said. "I'll talk to him tonight. After dinner."
"And Charlotte?"
"I'll talk to her too. Tell her—" I stopped. "Tell her I'm sorry for making her doubt herself. For projecting my fears onto her."
"She'll forgive you. She loves you."
"I know. But I still need to say it."
Across the room, Charlotte rose from the pianoforte. She said something to Edward, who nodded, and then she came toward us.
"Mama, Papa." She looked between us, her expression cautious. "Is something wrong?"
"No, darling. Nothing's wrong." I reached out and tucked a curl behind her ear. "I was just thinking how grown up you look."
"I'm seventeen."
"Nearly eighteen. I know." I smiled. "Go. Finish your practice. I'll speak with you after dinner."
Charlotte nodded and returned to Edward and the pianoforte.
Lucas took my hand again. "Come with me."
"Where?"
"Somewhere we can talk privately."
He led me out of the drawing room, down the corridor, to his study. Closed the door behind us.
Locked it.
"Lucas—"
He kissed me.
Not gently. Not the polite kiss of a husband greeting his wife. But the kind of kiss that reminded me we were more than parents, more than Duke and Duchess.
We were Lucas and Juliet. Who had started from scandal and need and built something real.
I kissed him back, my hands coming up to frame his face, pulling him closer.
"What was that for?" I asked when we finally broke apart.
"For being brave enough to question them. For caring enough to make sure they're certain." Lucas pressed his forehead to mine. "For being the kind of mother who protects her daughter even when it's hard. Even when it means making people angry with you."
"I made you angry."
"You made me think. There's a difference.
" He pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me.
"Juliet, I love you. I have loved you for years.
But watching you with Charlotte these past weeks—seeing you be her mother, seeing you worry and question and try to protect her—I've fallen in love with you all over again. "
My throat tightened. "Lucas?—"
"Let me finish." His hands slid up my back, into my hair, loosening pins.
"I married you because I had to. Because honour demanded it.
But I stayed married to you—I chose you every day—because you're extraordinary.
Because you're fierce and protective and you love with your whole heart. Because you make me better."
"You make me better, too."
"Then let's trust that we've raised a daughter who's smart enough to choose well. Who's brave enough to question her own motives. Who's strong enough to build something real, even if it starts from a crisis."
I looked at him. This man, who had been forced to marry me. Who had been patient when I was terrified. Who had loved me long before I could love him back.
"You really think they'll be all right?"
"I think they'll be better than all right." Lucas kissed me again, deeper this time, his hands moving from my hair to my waist. "I think they'll be happy. The way we're happy."
"We are happy, aren't we?"
"Deliriously. Ridiculously. Despite everything." His hands slid lower, to my hips, pulling me flush against him. "Though I could be happier. Right now."
Heat flooded through me. "Lucas, it's the middle of the afternoon."
"The door is locked. The children are occupied." He walked me backwards until my legs hit the edge of his desk. "And I want my wife."
"We're supposed to be discussing Charlotte and Edward."
"We discussed them. We reached a decision. Now I want to celebrate that decision." He lifted me onto the desk, stepping between my legs, his hands on my thighs. "Unless you'd prefer to return to the drawing room?"
I should have said yes. Should have insisted we be proper. Should have reminded him that we were parents now, responsible, respectable.
Instead, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss.
"The door is locked?" I breathed against his mouth.
"Locked and bolted."
"And the children?"