Snowdrops and Winterberry

Bonus Epilogue

December 1791

Adam had discovered very quickly during his first year at Harrow that it was tradition for fathers to visit their sons at school, a tradition he had been told continued at Oxford. He’d resigned himself immediately to not being part of that. And he’d told himself firmly that he didn’t care.

But Lucas had, without Adam saying a word about any of it, visited him multiple time at Harrow. He’d worried a little that Lucas and Mother Julia would forget about him as the years passed. They didn’t live at Brier Hill any longer, and they had four children of their own now. He didn’t entirely know how to make sense of their continued presence in his life.

That confusion, however, did not prevent him from accepting the invitation Lucas had extended when he’d arrived at Harrow a couple of days before school recessed for Christmas. Adam would be spending the festive season at Lampton Park.

He’d not had a Christmas with his honorary family in four years. He’d visited them at Lampton Park, just not as part of the holy season. That the prospect made him as nervous as it did eager was a frustrating thing.

He was thirteen years old now, hardly a baby. Yet he was acting embarrassingly infantile.

“It’s a shame Harry couldn’t make the journey with us,” Lucas said. “I suspect the three of us could have some legendary larks at the Park.”

“I don’t have larks.” That might disappoint Lucas, but Adam didn’t think it fair to mislead him.

“Ah, but I’ve been dreaming of a Highwayman’s Christmas for years.” Lucas’s eyes danced about the way they always did when he teased Adam. No one ever teased him but Lucas. Everyone else was too afraid, which was a very useful thing.

“I was a little ridiculous during that first visit to Brier Hill.”

“You were brilliant.” Lucas Jonquil had a penchant for jests and amusing absurdity, but he also allowed people to see when he was being sincere.

While Adam appreciated being the recipient of that openness, he knew he could never match it. Another thing that would likely disappoint Lucas.

“I didn’t know you would be inviting me to spend Christmas at Lampton Park,” Adam said. “I don’t have a present for Mother Julia.”

Lucas grinned evermore broadly. “Don’t you realize, Adam? You are the present.”

“I am?”

“I have been anticipating for weeks the look on her face when she realizes you are with me. You and I are soon to be legends in the annals of Jonquil Family Christmases.”

When she realizes . . . A worrisome realization followed close on that declaration. “She doesn’t know I’m returning with you?”

“Julia has been entirely jealous of my visits to Harrow to see you, but she worries that if you were being visited by a lady who mothers you as much as she does, you might be ridiculed for it.”

“No one ridicules me.” Adam had made perfectly sure of that. It had taken a shocking amount of fisticuffs and an unwillingness to back down from any challenge, but life at Harrow was easier now that everyone was too afraid of him to torture him. “Will I be an inconvenience to her?”

“To Julia?” Lucas shook his head as if the very idea were entirely absurd. “Not at all.”

“What about your mother? She lives at Lampton Park.”

“And she tucks herself cozily in at the Dower House whenever she wishes for time to herself. She’ll not be the least vexed.”

Adam had met the dowager countess during his previous visits, but he’d not felt the same closeness to her as he did to Lucas and Mother Julia. Truth be told, he didn’t feel the same closeness to anyone as he did to them.

A mere moment later, Lampton Park came into view. Adam wanted to feel excited, but he was still feeling inarguably anxious. He was not at all accustomed to the feeling, and he didn’t overly like it.

The carriage stopped at the front portico. The moment the door was open, Lucas eagerly jumped out. Adam didn’t have to guess why—the answer presented itself. Two little boys with golden curls just like Lucas’s rushed from the house with shouts of “Papa!” and were scooped up by their father.

“You were gone for seven hundred years, Papa,” the older of the two said.

“Not seven hundred,” the other objected. “But lots.”

“I was fetching a Christmas surprise for your mother.” Lucas kissed them each on their cheeks, holding them close and bouncing them excitedly. “Where are the twins?”

“We are faster than they are,” the older boy proudly declared.

Adam watched from the shadows of the carriage interior. The Jonquil family was always loving and affectionate. Seeing that was one of the things he appreciated about being with them.

“You are going to need two more arms, Lucas.”

Mother Julia.

Adam sat up at the sound of her voice, leaning a little more toward the door so he could see her better. He’d missed her. Being near her again tugged fiercely at his heart. It was too dark inside for him to be spotted, and he liked that: being able to feel things but not be seen feeling them.

She was walking slowly toward Lucas with two tiny boys, the twins, toddling beside her. Was she truly going to be pleased that he was there? Her family had grown so much since that first Christmas. There wasn’t really a need for him any longer.

Lucas turned to his oldest boy, still in one of his arms. “They are walking faster than they used to. They’ll be able to keep pace with you soon enough.”

“Papa, I don’t have to be fastest. I am in charge.” The little boy’s dramatic tone brought a smile to his father’s face.

“Time to trade hugs.” Lucas set his older two boys on their feet once more, then took his twins in his arms. “My sweetings.” He kissed their cheeks, just as he had the other boys.

“It is almost Christmas, Papa,” one of the twins said. “Grandmother likes Christmas. And Mama likes Christmas. And we like Christmas.”

Throughout the more vocal boy’s declaration, his twin silently and enthusiastically nodded.

“I am glad you’re excited,” Lucas said, “because so am I.”

Watching him with his sons turned Adam’s anxiousness to a sadness, though he wasn’t sure why. Their interaction didn’t elicit grief-filled reminders of his late father. Adam loved his father, and his father had loved him, but they hadn’t often exchanged hugs, and neither of them had used pet names. His feelings were something different.

Mother Julia managed to quickly kiss Lucas even with his arms full of children and two more clinging to his legs. “You were gone longer than expected. Did you have an errand beyond London?”

“I did.” The mischief in Lucas’s voice eased some of the heaviness in Adam’s heart. “I was fetching your Christmas present.” And quick as that, Adam was nervous again.

“Considering you left me here for nearly a fortnight with four boys who wanted nothing more than to have their nearest parent run with them for hours on end,”—there was too much of a laugh in her voice for the complaint to be a serious one—“this Christmas present you diverted course for had best be something truly magnificent.”

“My dear,” Lucas said, “this present is one I will reference for years as a means of getting myself out of your black books.”

Mother Julia laughed. “I like when you inevitably land yourself in trouble; I get the most wonderful apology presents.”

“This one, sweetheart, isn’t an apology. It’s simply because I love you both.”

“Us both?”

Lucas looked back through the open carriage door. His arms full, he twitched his head in a clear instruction for Adam to disembark.

I am the Duke of Kielder , Adam reminded himself. I am not a coward.

He squared his shoulders and moved to the open carriage door. Mother Julia pulled in a sharp breath. Adam stepped out, frustrated with himself for being too nervous to look at her. If she was disappointed, seeing it would hurt too deeply for him to endure.

“Oh, my Adam.” She threw her arms around him and hugged him in the fierce and firm embrace he’d come to associate with his beloved substitute mother. “I have missed you.”

He, who never hugged anyone, returned the offering. And for the first time in ages, he breathed.

***