by Merry Farmer
“Have you thought of names yet?” Arabella asked, carrying a small tray of tea to the small table that sat between Flossie’s and Alex’s beds.
Jason forgot about Armstrong’s annoying presence as he smiled down at his son. “Sebastian,” he said, then met Flossie’s smiling eyes. “Sebastian James Throckmorton.”
“Good Lord.” Armstrong snorted a laugh. “That’s a mouthful. Why, the poor lad’s hand will cramp up every time he goes to write it out.”
Jason scowled at the man. “Would you have preferred we name him Colin?”
As if realizing his faux pas, Armstrong blushed and stammered, “Oh…that is…I mean…good Lord.”
“And you?” Arabella asked Alex and Marshall with a gently admonishing look for Armstrong.
“We haven’t decided yet,” Alex said.
“Alexander,” Marshall spoke over her. “Alexander Pycroft, after his mother.”
Jason grinned, but Alex protested. “No, Marshall, no. I am not letting you inflict the poor boy with his mother’s name.”
“And why not?” Marshall asked, his eyes sparkling with fondness. “He could do much worse than to live up to the example his namesake has set for him.”
“He would be teased,” Alex insisted.
“He most certainly would not,” Marshall said. He stroked his baby’s head, then said, “Alex Pycroft, Jr.”
“No,” Alex laughed. “Don’t be cruel.” She paused to smile down at her son, then said, “All right, but only if we call him Xander. Two Alex’s would confuse everyone.”
“I am willing to make that compromise,” Marshall said with a laugh, leaning close to kiss Alex with entirely too much ardor for a public room.
“Sebastian and Xander,” Jason said, marveling at his son once more. “They are destined to get into far too much trouble.”
Flossie laughed at his assessment, which was all that mattered to him.
He leaned into to kiss her as Marshall had kissed Alex, but was interrupted as Nurse Nyman wheeled an agitated Lord Gerald into the room. E followed behind, looking miserable and anxious.
“He insisted on seeing the baby, sir,” Nurse Nyman told Jason as she wheeled Lord Gerald to the other side of Flossie’s bed.
“Ah, Emily,” Lord Gerald smiled and extended his shaking arms to Flossie. “Our son.”
“I’m Flossie Stowe, my lord,” Flossie told the old man in a tender voice.
“No, you’re not,” Jason said. When Flossie glanced sideways at him, he went on with, “You’re Mrs. Flossie Throckmorton now, and don’t you forget it.”
Jason still wasn’t entirely certain what knots he would need to untie to ensure that their wedding was legal and binding, considering they hadn’t followed proper procedure. He’d obtained a special license to marry E, and as far as he was concerned, it should be simple to strike her name out and add Flossie’s. And even if they needed to do the whole thing over again to make sure it was all above board, according to Rev. Charles, they were married in the eyes of God. As far as Jason was concerned, they’d been married from the moment she accepted him into her bed.
Flossie twisted to the side, handing Sebastian into Lord Gerald’s eager arms with Nurse Nyman’s help. A rush of protective instinct that Jason hadn’t been sure he possessed filled him, but he held his tongue and stopped himself from insisting Lord Gerald was too old and feeble to properly hold a baby.
Lord Gerald beamed down at Sebastian, but within moments, his smile faltered, then vanished. “You’re not Emily,” he said sadly, glancing up to Flossie.
“No, my lord, I’m not,” Flossie said.
Even deeper sadness filled Lord Gerald’s eyes. “I loved her so,” he said, barely above a whisper. “My parents didn’t approve, though. She was merely the daughter of a baronet. They had much loftier ambitions for me. But Emily and I were clever. We wheedled our way into forcing my parents to consent to the marriage. Emily was already with child, you see.”
Jason blinked, studying the old man as an eerie feeling slid down his back. “You were married to my mother?”
Lord Gerald dragged his eyes up from Sebastian—who Nurse Nyman took from his arms and handed back to Flossie when it was apparent his attention had moved elsewhere. “Jason,” he said with a weary smile. “Yes, you are Jason. I’ve known that all along, I’m sure.”
Jason doubted he had, but at least Lord Gerald’s mind seemed clear at the moment. “I was married to your mother, yes,” he said. “But only for five months. My poor Emily died giving birth to you. I was bereft,” he said in a choked voice, “and my parents were uncaring. They made the decision to treat the whole episode as though it’d never happened. You were whisked away from me and given to the orphanage, my marriage to Emily was erased from the family Bible and from memory, and within a year, I’d been married off to Lady Jane Cosgrove.”
“Mama,” E said with a sigh from her place near the door to the room.
Lord Gerald twisted to look at her as though he was uncertain who had spoken. As soon as he saw her, he relaxed. “Yes, my dear, your mama. Who, I’m very sorry to say, also died giving birth. After that, I refused to remarry for a third time. I’d sent two women to their graves already, and I couldn’t risk doing it again.” He turned back to Jason. “I’m only sorry that I was forbidden from removing you from the orphanage and revealing to the world that you were my own. I couldn’t raise you, but at least I could lend financial support to the orphanage. And I made certain you had the financial support to start your business once you departed for London.”
“Hang on,” Jason said, his heart suddenly pounding. “You gave me money without my knowing it?”
Lord Gerald shrugged slightly. “I called in favors, arranged for a few old friends to fund your projects as though from themselves. Little things.”
A tightness formed in Jason’s chest. He wasn’t self-made after all. He’d had a wealthy, titled father that he had never known pulling strings behind the scenes. Had Lord Gerald arranged for the widows and unhappily married women he’d slept with to give him money, as if for his services? Had his whole descent into depravity been an unnecessary lie?
Flossie’s hand closed around his, squeezing tightly. “What you did with that money is what matters,” she said in a kind voice. “Another man would have squandered it on a decadent life.” She leaned closer and whispered, “And there’s no way to tell how accurate the poor man’s memory is.”
Instantly, Jason felt better. Not only that, he felt grateful for Flossie down to the core of his soul.
“Just one moment,” Armstrong cut into the hushed, nostalgic mood that had fallen over their group with a cheerful exclamation. Jason frowned at him, but Armstrong was undeterred. “If you’re Lord Gerald’s son and Lord Gerald was legally married to your mother, this Emily woman, that means that you are legitimate.”
“By God, it does,” Marshall said, a teasing smile playing across his face.
“And if you are Lord Gerald’s legitimate son,” Armstrong went on. He paused for a moment, his mouth open, his eyes dancing with humor, “then you are the next Earl of Thornhill.”
“What?” E gaped, stepping forward. “No, that cannot be true. I am Papa’s only heir.”
“It looks like you aren’t,” Marshall said, clearly having a difficult time keeping his mirth in check. “Jason is his heir, aren’t you, my lord.”
“Don’t you dare,” Jason warned him with a scowl. The awkward feeling in his gut intensified.
“Lord Jason Throckmorton,” Armstrong said, making a regal and comical bow to Jason.
“No,” Jason said, pointing scoldingly at him. “Don’t.”
“Lord Jason Dyson, isn’t it?” Flossie said with a giggle.
Jason frowned at her. “Don’t you start too. It’s Jason Throckmorton, nothing more.”
“Whatever you say, my lord,” Flossie continued to tease him.
Jason’s eyes flared wide. “If I’m the future Earl of Thornhill, you do realize t
hat would make you a countess.”
Flossie’s giggling stopped and her mouth dropped open. “Bloody hell,” she gasped.
That was enough to make Jason laugh. No one would believe the story of the factory-worker’s daughter turned maid turned countess. Not in their wildest imaginations.
He was about to tease Flossie further when a commotion sounded from the hall.
“Where is she? I demand to see her. You won’t keep me away from her this time.” George Fretwell’s voice echoed from the hall.
Jason shot to his feet, Marshall doing the same. They both moved forward as if to block Arabella—who was on the other side of Alex’s bed now, cooing at Xander—from the coming confrontation. A moment later, Reggie backed into the room, his hands held up warningly, as George pushed him.
“Arabella,” George shouted, causing both infants to burst into tears. George ignored them and raved on with, “Enough of this. You are coming home with me now.”
“She is not.”
“Back away, sir.”
“You will not lay a hand on her.”
Every man in the room seemed to answer at once. So much so that George flinched. But it was Arabella that had everyone’s full attention as she stepped forward.
“I’m not coming with you, George,” she said in a tiny voice, hands clasped in front of her, unable to meet his eyes.
“I am your husband, you will do as I say,” George insisted, but without as much conviction as he might have had without four men—Jason, Marshall, Armstrong, and especially Reggie—standing in stark opposition to him.
Arabella raised her eyes to meet George’s at last. “I am not going anywhere with you,” she said, somewhat stronger. “Not now, not ever.”
“You—”
“I want a divorce, George.”
Jason was stunned that the tiny, retiring woman could interrupt George mid-sentence. It was a quiet action, but it left them all floored.
“I want a divorce,” she repeated. “Jason has offered me the services of his lawyer, and I intend to take advantage of them.”
“You cannot file for divorce,” George said.
“Then you will,” Arabella told him with absolute certainty. “I don’t care what basis for divorce you claim, but you will file, and you will do it soon.”
George gaped at her. Jason gaped at her as well, but for entirely different reasons. He admired her courage.
“If Lady Arabella needs any assistance at all in being rid of you once and for all,” Armstrong said, crossing to stand by her side, “I will help her in any way that I can.” He took her hand, smiling at her with obvious affection.
Jason was on the verge of rolling his eyes when it dawned on him how clever Armstrong’s move actually was. George would need grounds for divorce. He could claim abandonment, but the courts would be most likely to speed things along if he could prove infidelity. Armstrong had just provided him with reasonable suspicion on that point, particularly as both of them had been living at the hotel for months now. It was enough to make Jason wonder if Armstrong’s entire reason for residing at The Dragon’s Head for so long when he didn’t have to was to lay the ground work for this moment.
One exchanged glance with Armstrong told Jason he’d guessed the truth, and of all things, Jason’s estimation of the man rose by leaps and bounds. Perhaps Armstrong wasn’t the flippant boob he’d assumed he was all this time.
“You want to destroy your reputation?” George seethed at Arabella. “You want your good name and the good name of your friends and family dragged through the mud? Then on your head be it.”
With a final, hateful look, George turned and marched out of the room. Jason had never been so happy to see a man go in his life.
“We will all support you, Lady Arabella,” he said. “Whatever you choose to do.”
“Thank you,” she paused, her lips twitching, then continued with, “Lord Jason.”
The tension in the room cracked like ice on a warm spring day. Flossie snorted into a laugh. Marshall and Alex were right behind her. Even Arabella laughed as she leaned into Armstrong.
“Perhaps I should escort you back to the hotel so that we can discuss this matter further,” Armstrong said, looping Arabella’s arm through his.”
“I’d like that,” Arabella said, beaming up at him.
The two lovebirds left, Reggie tailing them like the bodyguard he was. Nurse Nyman took Lord Gerald back to his room as well.
“I’ll fetch Papa tomorrow,” E said, heading out as well. “I don’t think I’m up to the task of settling him back at home at the moment.”
A twist of guilt hit Jason and he moved to walk E out of the room. “I’m terribly sorry about all this,” he said as they walked slowly to the stairs. “Clearly, I had no idea. Otherwise I would have spared us both the embarrassment.”
“It’s not your fault,” E said with a dramatic sigh. “I don’t know whose fault it is. I’m too tired to think. Perhaps I’ll decide after some rest.”
Jason arched a brow. How typical of E to delay finding someone to blame until she was in a better frame of mind.
To his surprise, E stopped at the top of the stairs, resting a hand on Jason’s arm with a smile. “I’ve gained a brother,” she said. “I’ve always wanted a brother. Far better than a husband, if you ask me. I knew there was a reason we got along so well right from the start.”
Jason held his tongue. There was no point in admitting that they hadn’t always gotten along. But that’s what siblings were like, after all. “I’m happy to have you as a sister, E.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead.
“I suppose being the sister of the wealthiest man in England is just as good as being his wife.”
“I’m far from the wealthiest,” Jason told her. “Far.”
“But you are going to accept Mr. Johnson’s offer to buy your hotels, aren’t you?” she asked.
Jason blinked. “How did you know about that?”
E grinned. “I have eyes and ears all over Brynthwaite,” she answered cryptically. “And I truly do think it would be in your best interest to take the deal. Sell the hotels and be a family man. I know it’s what you’ve wanted from the start.”
“It is,” Jason admitted on an exhale. “And I think I will.”
He took E’s hand, squeezing it goodbye, then let her head down the stairs as he returned to the room Flossie and Alex shared. But to his surprise, Flossie, Alex, and Marshall were not alone. Lawrence and Matty were there with them. Sebastian and Xander were propped up on the bed beside Alex, and Bracken had been placed in the line with them.
“The new Brynthwaite boys,” Marshall told Jason as he grinned at the line of babies. “May they cause as much havoc as their fathers did.”
Jason laughed, but his moment of humor quickly turned to pointed nostalgia. “Are you leaving?” he asked Lawrence.
“Of course not,” Marshall answered. “Not when he’s obviously needed here.”
Lawrence exchanged a glance with Jason, then said with a sigh, “As soon as it gets dark. Barsali has already left with his band. When I heard about the babies, I knew I had to see them and to say a proper goodbye.”
Marshall’s face fell. “You can’t leave. What about the boys?” He gestured toward the line of wriggling babies.
Lawrence shook his head. “I broke Barsali out of jail this morning. Crimpley finally has just cause to have me arrested.” He glanced to Matty. “We have to leave, and we have to do it as quickly and quietly as possible.”
“You shouldn’t have come here,” Jason said, increasingly agitated. “Crimpley will send Burnell after both Marshall and me as soon as he pieces together what happened. You need to be gone already.”
“As I said,” Lawrence smiled wistfully, “I couldn’t leave until I saw all of our boys together, just this once.”
“We’ll come back someday,” Matty said, glancing to Lawrence. “Once things settle down. I’ll definitely come back to see my siblings. Please take good c
are of Willy,” she said to Flossie.
“We will,” Flossie promised. “He’ll be like our own.”
“Thank you,” Matty said, tears in her eyes as she picked up Bracken.
“We’ll keep an eye on Connie and Elsie as well,” Jason said, paused, then went on with, “I take it Elsie will be with Mother Grace?”
“She will,” Lawrence said.
“Are you just going to let him walk away like this?” Marshall interrupted, clearly hurt.
Jason rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We cannot stop the world from changing, Marshall. Each of us has a path to follow, and sometimes that takes us away from home. But he’ll be back someday, won’t you, Lawrence?”
“I will,” Lawrence said, and Jason could tell he meant it.
“This is just goodbye for now,” Jason said.
Marshall clearly wasn’t satisfied, but a look of resignation came to his eyes. At last, he let out a breath and moved to close Lawrence in a bear hug. “Be safe,” he said. “Don’t let the law catch you.”
“I won’t,” Lawrence said with a grin as impish as any he’d managed as a boy when the three of them were getting into trouble. He let go of Marshall, then hugged Jason goodbye. “We need to leave,” he said, taking Matty’s hand.
“Understood,” Jason said. “You’ll always have a place under my roof,” he added. It dawned on him that he was probably in line to inherit Huntingdon Hall as well as Lord Gerald’s useless title. What a strange mess his life was.
Lawrence and Matty said goodbye to Flossie and Alex and the babies, then quietly slipped out of the room. It amazed Jason how quickly people could come and go from his life, from anyone’s life. He sat on Flossie’s bed once his friend had left and let out a sigh.
“I am so ready for life to return to normal,” he said.
“Life never returns to normal once you have children,” Marshall told him.
Jason sent him a weary smile and a nod.
“We’ll just have to make a new normal,” Flossie said, reaching for Jason’s hand as Sebastian made adorable baby sounds against her chest as he slept. “We’ve done it before, after all.”