Neal had not thought of this. “I shall be your stepfather. I promise I will treat you as my own. What would you like to call me?”
“I want to call you Lyon,” Christopher declared. “Mrs. Clemmons was reading a story to us about a lion. He was a big cat, and he roars.” He showed what he meant by giving a loud roar.
Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Ever since Mrs. Clemmons read that story, that is all he does.”
His brother’s response was to laugh and roar again. Neal found himself laughing as well. He couldn’t help himself. Christopher looked so proud of his new talent, and Jonathan was so aggrieved by it, that Neal was reminded of himself and Harry when they were younger. Neal had forgotten about those days. That was before their father had burdened them with the curse and before the busyness of their lives had caught up with them.
“Roar once more,” Neal urged Christopher.
The boy shot a triumphant look at Jonathan and roared the loudest and best roar yet.
“Call me Lyon,” Neal said and held his hand out to each of the boys. They would be his sons. They would also be free of the curse. The realization was revolutionary. They had a future.
Jonathan solemnly placed his hand in Neal’s. Christopher copied him, an impish grin on his face. Jonathan would always see the serious side of life, and Christopher, well, he would be Jonathan’s Harry, and Neal couldn’t stop from pulling them both into his arms. He had sons.
Glory of all glories, they hugged him in return, while Thea stood to the side with the dreamiest glow of pride Neal had ever seen on anyone’s face. Of course, the only thing left to do was to include her in the hug.
“Shouldn’t your mother be in the hug?” Neal wondered.
“Join us, Mother,” Jonathan ordered, losing his earlier reserve and starting to show boyish eagerness. Neal understood. The oldest always had to be the most cautious. He’d have to make the first move with Jonathan. Christopher, of course, acted according to however he felt at the moment. So like Harry.
Thea did as commanded, and Neal found his arms full of family. A pleasure he’d not ever known before settled around him, and Neal could have stayed embraced in their hugs forever.
His wife was more practical. “We must not be a burden to Lady Palmer any longer,” she said, breaking up the hug.
“Oh, poo,” Mirabel said. “I adore having company. Stay for dinner.”
Her offer was tempting. Neal had deliberately put off thinking of his sister and brother’s reaction to his marriage. He’d sent a messenger the day before to inform them of his intentions, including whom he was marrying. He anticipated a howl of protest from Harry.
However, sooner or later he had to face them, and it might as well be sooner. Mirabel gave them each a kiss as they parted company—even Neal.
The boys were excited to ride in the coach.
“Where are we going to live?” Jonathan asked.
“In my house,” Neal said.
Christopher’s eyes rounded with delight, and even Jonathan sat up straighter and looked out the window with anticipation.
Thea’s hand found Neal’s. She gave him a squeeze that saidthank you.She was happy, andsince making her happy made him happy, he raised her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on her fingertips.
The Chattan town home was one of the largest in London. The step boasted a huge, carved stone portico and double doors of varnished oak.
This time Jonathan did not hold back his emotions as he climbed out of the coach onto the walk. “We’re living here?”
“Yes,” Neal said. “Welcome home.”
Both boys stood on the front step, their heads leaning back as they looked up at the portico, exclaiming over the size of the wrought-iron lamp hanging there.
Neal turned his attention to the front door. Usually a servant opened the door the moment a coach pulled up. However, it was still closed. Bonner was as surprised as Neal, although Neal didn’t want to say anything in front of Thea and her sons.
The thought crossed his mind that Margaret might attempt to lock them out. She could be that stubborn and protective, but it wouldn’t make sense. His sister wouldn’t openly defy him. No, she’d give him a tongue lashing in private. He decided he’d best keep the boys close to him. Not even Margaret could be immune to theirenthusiasm, and they might offer him a spot of protection.
Lifting Christopher up in his arms, Neal tried the handle. The front door was unlocked. He opened it. The front hall was empty. “Hello?” he called. “Dawson?”
No one answered.
He smiled at Thea. “Dawson, our butler, is usually at the front door. I don’t know where he is up and about.” Bonner and the coachman were making arrangements to bring in what luggage they had to the servants’ entrance.
