She owned her own home, Chestnut Hill, that she had inherited from her grandmother, along with a sizeable trust fund that came under her full control two years ago. Indeed, that inheritance had left her quite wealthy in her own right. For thisreason, there were always men willing to step forward in the hope of seducing her into marrying them.
She was too cynical to fall for their obvious ploys.
“Uh oh. I hear the thundering horde,” Connor jested.
Their conversation ended when the children came bounding in. The discussion now shifted to queries about supper, because these growing sprites were starving.
Eden noticed how Lynton’s face lit up when his children swarmed around him.
Yes, this was what she was missing—children of her own. But would she be a good mother? Or was she doomed to become the banshee that her own mother was? Her father was little better, always provoking his wife because the two were like oil and water. Mother was always in a crisis over the smallest problem, and Father was a walking testament to every bad habit invented to date.
How had they ever been a match?
This was why she enjoyed Chestnut Hill so much. Her parents spent most of their time in London while she resided here, well out of their reach. This washerhome,hersanctuary, and they rarely bothered to come here because it was so out of the way.
Not that she ever minded their visits. Separately, they were tolerable. Together, they were a disaster.
One would think they might have learned to stay apart by now. But they seemed to love confronting each other, and each got wicked enjoyment out of ruining the other’s day. Eden was tired of their shouting matches and their hurling vases, cushions, and any other objects close at hand at each other. Mostly her mother tossed them at her father, and he usually ducked in time to avoid getting hit.
Neither parent ever cared whether she was present and watching their theatrics. Quite often, they forgot she existed.
Lynton broke away from his children and took her gently by the elbow, his touch shaking her out of her thoughts. “The Mongol horde is too hungry to await my mother’s return.”
Eden regarded him with some surprise. “But will she not be put out? It would be rude of us to proceed without her. What if we merely sat with the children while they ate?”
“And then dined with my mother? I have no idea when she’ll be back.”
At that moment, Brewster strode in. “Your Grace…”
“Yes, Brewster. What is it?”
“Your mother just sent word that she will be dining in town this evening.”
Connor frowned. “Did she provide any explanation?”
Brewster nodded. “Apparently, Sir Nero Arnulfson is giving a lecture at the Lynton Literary Society, and Duchess Evelyn has decided to host an informal supper at the Lynton Hotel for the members afterward.”
“Oh, the society meeting,” Eden muttered, feeling a bit guilty that she had declined the invitation. Sir Nero was a pompous bag of wind, and a lecherous old man to boot. He had twice pinched her bottom, and she was not about to give him the opportunity to do it again.
“Then it is just us and the children,” Connor said with a surprisingly affectionate smile.
They dined on the terrace overlooking the magnificent Lynton gardens and an expansive view of the ocean. The terrace was in shade at this hour, providing a perfect way to enjoy a meal on a hot day like this one. A gentle breeze blew off the water and carried the scent of salt, sand, and waves toward them. As the wind swirled and shifted, it also carried the fragrant scent of garden roses that were presently at their magnificent peak.
Priscilla sat beside her, looking up at her with such happiness on her adorably round face that Eden’s heart gave a lurch.
Would it be so terrible to have these children with her for the week?
Their chatter was constant and lively. The children told their father about their day. To his credit, Connor listened attentively and made suggestions for activities they might undertake once the onerous week of his house party was over. “But that is a whole week away,” Priscilla grumbled. “What are we to do while you are busy finding us our new mama?”
Connor paused as he was about to take a sip of his wine. “I am not finding you a new mama,” he muttered between clenched teeth. “Who said I was?”
“Grandmama Evelyn said you were going to meet her this week,” Alex said.
“Well, your grandmother is wrong,” he replied. “I am quite content with you three and do not need anyone else.”
“Other than Eden,” Priscilla said, taking her hand with her sticky fingers in a sweet gesture meant to ease any insult in leaving her out of this happy family grouping. “We need Eden, don’t we?”
Connor smiled and raised his glass to her. “Yes, Eden is included.”
