23. Edward
Edward
T he fountain pen felt substantial in my hand as I signed my name to the final page, the scratch of nib against parchment marking the end of one era and the beginning of something entirely unprecedented.
Not an acquisition. Not a hostile takeover. A partnership.
"There," I said, replacing the pen in its stand with deliberate precision. "Lili’s Home Garden is now officially in partnership with Gardens & Home Television, creating the first truly integrated legal-media consultancy in the UK."
Sir Malcolm looked rather like he'd swallowed something unpleasant, his weathered features twisted into what might charitably be called a grimace. "Highly irregular, Edward. The board will have concerns about this unprecedented arrangement."
"Perhaps," I replied, straightening my cufflinks with the sort of casual indifference that had served me well in countless boardrooms. "But also profitable. Exponentially so, if the projections are accurate."
Across the conference table, Lili beamed at me with such radiant pride that I felt something fundamental shift in my chest.
She was wearing a pine green suit that made her eyes sparkle like emeralds, her hair pulled back in a style that was both professional and utterly enchanting.
My girlfriend. My business partner. My future.
"The numbers don't lie," she said, her Texas accent lending warmth to the corporate formality.
"Edward's firm provides legal expertise to media companies throughout Europe, while Gardens & Home has distribution networks in markets his clients have never accessed. Lili’s Home Garden provides the social media exposures which is now a hot topic in both UK and US markets. It's symbiotic, not predatory."
James, seated to my right, cleared his throat diplomatically. "The board is cautiously optimistic about this arrangement."
"The board," I said, allowing a hint of steel to enter my voice, "will find their caution replaced by celebration when they see the quarterly returns."
What I didn't say—what I would never say in this room—was that the merger had been Lili's idea entirely.
She'd presented it to me after we'd returned from Texas, laying out a business plan so elegant and comprehensive that I'd found myself wondering how I'd ever considered anything else.
Not acquisition. Partnership. Equals.
It was, I realized, rather the perfect metaphor for everything else in our lives.
"The integration will take six months," Lili continued, consulting her notes with the sort of focused competence that had first caught my attention during that disastrous charity auction. "We'll start with shared client consultations, then move to cross-platform marketing strategies."
Sir Malcolm's expression remained sour. "One does wonder about the delicate nature of mixing personal and professional relationships. The optics, you understand."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. I leaned back in my chair, employing the sort of predatory stillness that had made opposing counsel question their career choices.
"Malcolm," I said, my voice achieving that particular quality of silk-wrapped steel that had served me so well over the years, "are you suggesting that my personal relationship with Miss Anderton might compromise my professional judgment?"
"I merely observe that mixing business with pleasure has historically proven problematic."
"Has it indeed?" I allowed the question to hang in the air like smoke.
"How fascinating. Because I seem to recall that this firm's most lucrative partnerships have often involved rather close personal relationships.
The Ashworth account, for instance. Weren't you best man at Charles Ashworth's wedding? "
Malcolm's face flushed an unfortunate shade of crimson. "That's entirely different—"
"Is it?" I interrupted, my tone remaining perfectly conversational. "Or is it merely that you find some relationships more palatable than others?"
"Edward," James murmured, a warning in his voice.
But I was far from finished. "Let me be absolutely clear, Malcolm.
Miss Anderton's qualifications are impeccable, her business acumen is exemplary, and her contribution to this firm's future success will be substantial.
If you have concerns about the partnership, I suggest you address them through proper channels.
If, however, your concerns are of a more personal nature, I would recommend you keep them to yourself. "
The silence that followed was thick enough to cut with a blade.
Malcolm's jaw worked soundlessly for several seconds before he managed to regain his composure. "Of course," he said stiffly. "The firm's interests are paramount."
"Indeed they are," I agreed, my smile sharp enough to draw blood. "I'm so pleased we understand each other."
Three hours later, the adrenaline from the morning's corporate warfare had faded, leaving me oddly restless.
The afternoon sun streaming through my office windows should have been soothing, but when Lili knocked on the door, her expression both nervous and excited in a way that made my pulse quicken, I knew something significant was about to shift.
We'd been back in London for two weeks, settling into a routine that felt remarkably natural—shared mornings over coffee and newspapers, evenings discussing merger strategies, nights that reminded me why I'd fallen so completely under her spell.
"Come in, darling," I called, not looking up from the contracts I was reviewing. "How did the Jackson's Garden Centers meeting go?"
"Edward," she said, her voice carrying an odd quality that made me glance up immediately. "We need to talk."
The phrase that had struck fear into the hearts of men throughout history.
I set down my pen with deliberate care, giving her my complete attention.
"That sounds ominous," I observed, attempting levity while my mind raced through possibilities.
Had she changed her mind about the merger? About coming back to London? About us?
She closed the door behind her and crossed to my desk, perching on the edge of the chair across from me.
Her usual confidence was replaced by something fragile and uncertain.
Her hands twisted together in her lap, and I noticed she was wearing the small silver bracelet her Mother had given her—something she only did when she was genuinely nervous.
"It's not ominous. At least, I don't think it is. But it's... significant."
"Lili," I said gently, rising from my chair. "Whatever it is, simply tell me."
She took a deep breath, her hands twisting together in front of her. "I did a home test this morning."
The words hung in the air for a moment before their significance crashed over me like a wave. My heart began hammering against my ribs with such force I was certain she could hear it.
"A home test," I repeated slowly, hardly daring to hope. "Are you saying...?"
"Pregnant," she confirmed, and suddenly her nervous smile transformed into something radiant. "At least, that's what three different tests told me this morning. I bought every brand they had at Boots, just to be sure."
The breath left my lungs in a rush. I crossed the room in two strides, sweeping her into my arms and spinning her around until she was laughing and protesting that I was making her dizzy.
"Pregnant," I said against her neck, the word feeling like a prayer. "Lili, you're pregnant."
"Edward," she laughed, "put me down before we both end up on the floor."
But I couldn't seem to let go of her.
The joy coursing through my veins was unlike anything I'd ever experienced—not the cold satisfaction of winning a case or the measured pleasure of a successful business deal. This was pure, elemental happiness.
"We need to have it confirmed," I said, finally setting her down but keeping my hands on her waist. "Properly confirmed, with the best doctors available."
"I was hoping you'd say that," she admitted. "The tests seem pretty definitive, but..."
"But we want to be absolutely certain," I finished, already reaching for my phone. "Dr. Harrison at the Royal Berkshire Private Hospital. She's been the royal family's obstetrician for decades."
I paused, a memory surfacing with startling clarity.
"Actually, I was there just eighteen months ago when Prince Ethan was born.
Charles called me at two in the morning, completely beside himself because the media had somehow gotten wind of the early labor.
I spent six hours managing legal injunctions to keep the press at bay while poor Catherine was in delivery. "
Lili's eyes widened. "You were there for a royal birth?"
"In the family waiting room, fielding calls from newspaper editors who thought they were clever," I said with a slight smile.
"Charles was pacing like a caged tiger, and his Mother was critiquing the hospital's décor choices.
When Dr. Harrison finally emerged to announce the birth, Charles actually wept.
I'd never seen him show that kind of raw emotion. "
I looked down at Lili, my heart swelling with the realization that soon I would understand exactly how Charles had felt in that moment.
"Dr. Harrison will take excellent care of you," I continued, dialing the familiar number. "She's discreet, brilliant, and has successfully delivered two generations of royalty. If anyone can give us the confirmation we need, it's her."
Within the hour, we were seated in the same examination room where I'd paced eighteen months ago, waiting for news of Prince Ethan.
The irony wasn't lost on me—then I'd been the anxious friend and legal counsel, now I was the expectant Father.
Dr. Harrison, a distinguished woman in her fifties greeted us with the same calm professionalism I remembered from that nerve-wracking night.
"Mr. Grosvenor," she said warmly, "how lovely to see you under much happier circumstances. And this must be the famous Miss Anderton I've been reading about."