Page 126 of Claim

She smiled and shook my hand, and Christ, my palm was damp. I hoped she didn’t notice. Or at least would keep it to herself.

“Welcome to our home. You really are quite handsome. Can see why Tristan likes you.” She smiled, though there was a hesitation in it.

Didn’t fucking blame her.

Another man stepped forward then, smart trousers, open-neck shirt, jumper slung casually over his shoulders as if he’d never worried about a dress code in his life.

“Marcus.” He offered his hand. “Tristan’s brother. Welcome, Rich.”

Fucking hell.

“And this is my wife, Eloise.” He drew the woman beside him forward, and only then did I notice the tiny baby strapped to her chest in one of those papoose things Keeley had never quite figured out. She was glowing. Patterned dress. With the baby sleeping against her, one small fist curled under his chin.

I shook her hand carefully, unsure where to put my eyes with the baby wedged between us.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you,” she said warmly. “Keeley talks about you constantly.”

Ah. Right. This one.

“Yeah?” I snorted. “She mostly just… talks. Full stop.”

Eloise laughed, brushing her fingers over the baby’s downy head. “She’s very popular at Rosewood House.”

“I’ll bet.”

Marcus glanced down fondly at the small bundle against Eloise’s chest.

“And this,” he adjusted the sling so I could get a proper look at the little bundle, “is Arthur.”

I couldn’t help it. I lifted my hand before my brain caught up and stroked the backs of my fingers over the baby’s head. Softly. I’d always liked doing that when Maisie had been born. When she’d been all fragile and warm and impossibly small. Something about it had felt… different. Something I didn’t come across much in a life built on hard edges and bravado.

“Hey, little man.” I then clocked Tristan looking at me all funny. Sappy-like. So I cleared my throat and straightened. “So, you’re an uncle, too?”

“Guncle.”

I snorted.

Then Tristan then reached out and tugged a younger girl to his side, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “And this is my little sister, Amelia.”

She was about Keeley’s age but might as well have been from another planet. Riding trousers, fitted top, boots still on, hair pinned back. She took my hand firmly as if taught it in school.

“Hi. Nice to meet you.”

Before the silence could stretch too far, the housekeeper appeared like a saviour, offering a silver tray of drinks. I glanced at Tristan.

“G&T.” He took one. “Pre-dinner. Unless you want something else?”

“No—yeah. That’s perfect.” I took a tumbler and drank it straight off the bat.

Fuck, I needed it.

“Right.” Charles clapped his hands together once. “Let’s move through to the dining room.”

They drifted off towards the doorway, conversation restarting as if this were any other evening. Me? I blew out a breath I’d been holding for far too long and started planning my escape.

Tristan chuckled beside me. “Honestly, relax.”

“This is fucking insane.” I downed the rest of my drink. “I shouldn’t be here.”