Family was the link that connected past, present, and future. It was the thread that linked every person in that huge room.
The power of that—of family built from and raised in love—was unconquerable.
As, hand in hand with Toby, Diana moved among the guests, old and young, from near and far, who had gathered to wish them well, she felt the anchoring reality of family thrumming all around her.
The children—the Fellows three already absorbed into the larger Cynster brood—had formed a long snaking line and were weaving through the knots of guests, laughing and calling and even singing as they went. From various comments Diana overheard, she gathered this was a family tradition, almost a rite of passage for the youngsters.
All around the room, there were babes-in-arms being cooed over by older ladies and gentlemen who could no longer join the dancers. By now, Diana had met everyone at least once, including the babies, but Therese and Louisa, assisted by Pru and Meg, nevertheless came to claim her for a stroll around the older members of the family.
“They like to hear what we and our families are up to,” Pru explained.
“And we always try to give them something to exclaim over and talk about,” Meg added.
“They,” Louisa declared, “are our repository of family knowledge, so we need to keep them up to date and apprised of our latest developments.”
The first ancient lady they led Diana to was the Dowager Duchess of St. Ives, who was surrounded by others of her generation, including Toby’s grandmother, whom Diana had come to know quite well. Consequently, she was unsurprised by the gentle queries as to whether she and Toby, having more or less inherited a family, were intending to add to it with children of their own. She assured them that was their fondest hope and was touched by how much that pleased the older ladies and the older gentlemen, too.
“They love hearing about our children,” Meg informed her as they moved on.
“One might almost say it keeps them young,” Therese said, “knowing that the generations are rolling ever on.”
“And that there will, therefore, always be some Cynster, somewhere, doing something rash,” Louisa stated, and they all laughed.
On the other side of the ballroom, Toby stood near the wall and looked out over the throng. He located Diana, laughing with his sisters and Therese and Louisa, then scanned the smaller folk until he spotted Evelyn, then Bryce and Roland, all part of a group of children playing some sort of dancing game and, incidentally, entertaining a clutch of older relatives.
The family was now so large and widespread, the wedding breakfast had, of necessity, been limited to family and connections only. That meant that everyone had let down their guard and were enjoying themselves without reservation, given that everyone there more or less owed fealty to the clan.
As he looked at his family—his wife, the three he already thought of as his children, and the wider rambunctious horde—Toby felt a welling pride in this entity his ancestors had created and inwardly admitted that marrying and thus stepping into the whole, becoming a real part of it, had been not just the right thing to do but something he had needed to do.
Because he was a Cynster, and family was at his core.
The concept had nurtured him, guided and supported him, and would until his dying day.
This was who he truly was. A family man.
A man with a family of his own.
His cousin Christopher appeared beside him. “Well,” Christopher drawled, grinning, “you’ve finally tripped and fallen. About time.”
“Indeed.” Gregory, Christopher’s brother, joined them. “Long past time, but you seem to have managed to leap several steps and ended with a ready-made family.”
Others ambled up—Martin, Christopher and Gregory’s younger brother, and Devlin, Therese’s husband, as well as several others, Drake, Sebastian, Antonia’s husband, Nicholas, and Drago, Meg’s husband, among them.
Toby had been a part of such a gathering at every wedding of those of his generation, when the males had come together to predict which Cynster would be next to fall.
“This is the end of an era,” Sebastian, the eldest of their generation, stated. “There are no more of us to fall to Fate. Each and every one of us has surrendered.”
Christopher chuckled. “That sounds as if we should feel cast down, yet instead, we’re all smiling smugly.”
“Indeed.” Drake clapped Toby on the shoulder. “You’ve almost always been correct in predicting to whom Fate would next turn her eye. So where to from here?”
Toby looked out over the room, then shook his head. “Fate is finished with the Cynsters for now. From here on, it’s up to us to consolidate and build on what she’s wrought.”
The others pondered that, then Sebastian nodded. “That’s a good direction for us going forward.”
“To the future,” Christopher murmured as if it was a toast, and the others all echoed the sentiment.
“Incidentally”—Sebastian glanced at Toby—“just so you know we’ve noticed, we’re all experiencing a degree of awe. After resisting Fate’s siren song for so long, that in finally surrendering, you’ve nevertheless managed to put your own inimitable stamp on the occasion is rather staggering. No one else has married and furnished himself with an instant family. Only you.”
