“Where would you like to have this picnic?”
“Hyde Park?” She squeezed his fingers. “Somewhere Evie can enjoy the fresh air, and our friends can see how perfect she is.”
“And how well suited we are together?”
“Are we? Well suited, that is.”
Owen lifted their joined hands to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Getting there. Every day, we understand each other better.”
That evening, they established a new routine. Together, they gave Evie her bath. Owen held her steady while Iris washed her carefully. The baby seemed to enjoy the warm water because she kicked her legs and gurgled.
“She’s going to be tall,” Owen observed as he watched Evie stretch in the small tub. “Look at those legs.”
“Good. Tall women command more respect.” Iris lifted Evie from the water and wrapped her in a soft towel. “Though I suppose as a duke’s daughter, she’ll have all the respect she needs.”
“She’ll have more than that. She’ll have parents who adore her, friends who cherish her, and enough stubbornness to take on the world.”
They settled into the nursery for Evie’s final feeding of the day. Owen sat in the rocking chair with the baby while Iris tidied the room.
“Sing to her,” Iris requested while settling onto the small sofa where she could watch them both.
Owen’s voice was soft as he sang the familiar sea shanty that never failed to soothe Evie. But tonight, he sang other songs too, lullabies his grandfather had taught him, half-remembered melodies from his childhood.
“Away, haul away, we’ll haul away together,” he sang softly. “Away, haul away, we’ll haul for better weather.”
Evie’s eyes grew heavy, and her small body relaxed completely in his arms. She was safe, cherished, and surrounded by the voices and scents of home. Whatever dangers might exist in the wider world, in this room, at this moment, she was safe.
“She’s asleep,” Iris whispered.
“Finally.” But Owen made no move to put Evie in her cradle. He seemed content to hold her while she slept. “I understand now why you never wanted to put her down those first few days. There’s something about holding a sleeping baby that makes everything else seem manageable.”
“Even the frightening parts?”
“Especially those.” He looked up at her with a serious expression on his face. “I used to think that caring about people made you vulnerable. That the more you invested in others, the more you had to lose.”
“And now?”
“Now, I think the opposite might be true. That having something worth protecting makes you stronger, not weaker.” He stood up carefully and tucked Evie into her cradle with practiced ease. “Caring doesn’t make you vulnerable. It makes you brave.”
Later, in the privacy of his chambers, they came together with a tenderness that spoke of growing intimacy rather than desperate need. Afterward, Iris lay curled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and marveling at how right this felt.
“Owen?”
“Mmm?”
“When we have our picnic, will you tell our friends about Nicholas? About Evie’s real parentage?”
He was quiet for so long that she thought he might have fallen asleep. When he finally spoke, his voice was thoughtful.
“Some of them, perhaps. Grace and Harrison certainly. Felix already knows about it.” His hand stroked her hair gently. “But carefully. The fewer the people who know the truth, the safer she is.”
“Of course.” Iris pressed a kiss to his chest, tasting the salt of his skin. “I just want them to understand how much we cherish her. How real this has become.”
“They’ll understand. Anyone who sees us together will understand.”
She hoped he was right. Because this happiness felt too precious to be questioned, too perfect to be anything but genuine. They’d built something beautiful under the most unusual circumstances, and she wanted the whole world to see it.
Starting with the people who mattered most.
