Page 164 of The Viscount's Violet

“Oh, yellow is my favorite! Thank you. I know you’re too grown up for tea parties, but do you want to join us?”

Rafe began to shake his head, but Benedict gave him a slight nudge in the back. The boy’s gaze turned to him with a questioning expression before he took in his father’s meaning.

“Yes, that would be nice,” he agreed, with no real enthusiasm.

“You can have my place,” Eliza said, offering her seat to Rafe.

She reached Benedict’s side, then closed the door behind them.

“Praise the Lord, I thought I might have to drink thetea,” she whispered as she dragged him down the hall.

“It’s not likely to cause them bodily harm, is it?”

“No, it’s only molasses and toasted breadcrumbs. She still hasn’t developed a taste for proper tea yet.”

Benedict’s stomach curled at the thought. “It’s his penance. Speaking of, I brought you these.” He presented his own bouquet with a flourish. It was little more than a collection of the various wildflowers she had cultivated, but he was pleased with how he’d arranged them.

“Lovely, but what have you done that requires penance?”

“It’s preemptive. For all the unholy things I plan to do to you tonight.”

Eliza met his gaze for a moment before a snort of laughter escaped her. “I look forward to it,” she said, then took a seat at the top of the steps. Benedict sat down beside her.

Her hand slid atop his, their fingers entwining. Benedict twisted their hands, lining up their palms so he could pull them up and place a kiss on her wrist.

“Rafe had quite the accusation. How do you feel?” she asked. That she understood him should no longer have come as a surprise to Benedict, but she never failed to astonish him.

“I— Good? I think? It was… healing—to say the things to him I wish I had heard when I was his age.”

“I’m glad.” Eliza dropped her head to rest on his shoulder. “We’ve raised a kind boy. He’ll grow into a good man—just like his father.”

“Yes?”

Eliza abandoned his hand and caught his cheek in her palm instead. “You’re a good man, Benedict Sinclair. And quite easy to love, as it turns out.”

He closed his eyes, letting the truth of it settle. “Only because I found you,” he whispered, then kissed her—slow, sure, and utterly undone by her love.

A gentle breeze wafted in from the open window, bringing with it the scent of mossy earth, late-summer rain, and fresh violets—proof of everything they’d built together and everything still to come.

The End