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“And I shall show you as well, my love. Come,” he invited.

Smiling, Ophelia remained where she was on the blanket Apollo had spread for her, Henry and Bitsy curled up and sleeping about her skirts in the warm summer’s sun. For once, it wasn’t raining. The day was bright and beautiful. A perfect one for teaching the children to fish.

Taking up a fishing rod that was more diminutive in size, Apollo proceeded to explain to Catherine the importance of selecting proper bait.

“I don’t got to touch the worms, though, do I, Papa?” she asked seriously.

“Of course not, love,” he reassured her. “That is what you have a papa and a Reggie for.”

Catherine beamed. “I love having a papa and a Reggie.” She glanced in Ophelia’s direction before adding guiltily, “And a mama and a Bitsy and a Henry and a baby brother or sister.”

Ophelia cradled her ridiculously large stomach. “And we all love having a Catherine too, my darling girl.”

She and Apollo had married in haste, forgoing the society wedding they’d initially planned. Without needing to appease Lord Timothy, they had chosen to please themselves instead. As it had turned out, the hurried wedding had been fortuitous, because Ophelia had already been carrying the babe who was currently responsible for her aching back and cravings for cream ice and mutton.

In the wake of Lord Timothy’s revelations and death, Ophelia had searched Corbett’s private papers and discovered a different will, along with a journal that had expressed concern about his brother. The evidence she provided, coupled with her marriage to Apollo, had satisfied the court that she was the rightful guardian of her children.

And now, she would never again need to fear losing them.

She watched as Apollo patiently showed Catherine how to toss her line as well, giving her the same careful attention he had given to Reggie. How she loved that about him, his complete devotion to her children. Children who, over the course of the last few months of their marriage, had gradually begun to think of Apollo as their papa.

Not a replacement, as Apollo had told them, but another papa to love them on earth whilst their papa loved them from heaven.

Ophelia loved him for that too.

Loved him for the way he had nursed her through the grief and guilt that had come in the wake of Lord Timothy’s death. Loved him for the gentle patience and kindness he showed them all each day.

And she loved him for at least a million other reasons as well.

He joined her on the blanket. “There we are, Mama. Our children are learning to fish.”

“Thank you for teaching them,” she said, and then felt a sudden thump in her belly. “Oh! Give me your hand.”

She placed his palm over the swell where she had felt a kick. “Do you feel it?”

Another movement happened, furious and fast, followed by more on the opposite side of her stomach.

“I do,” he said, a look of awe on his handsome face that she would carry with her always.

“He or she is impatient, like Papa,” she said softly. “Ready to explore the world awaiting.”

“When have I ever been impatient?” he asked with mock dismay.

She raised a brow at him. “Last night.”

He winked. “Fair enough.” Using his index finger, he traced an outline on the swell of her stomach. “What did I draw?”

Their old game. It never failed to charm her, just like him.

She didn’t hesitate. “A heart.”

He grinned, his dimples on display. “Because mine is yours. You may as well wear it.”

“You have mine as well, so I do suppose we are even.”

“Mama, Papa, I caught a fish!” Catherine exclaimed, yanking on her fishing line.

Apollo leapt to his feet again. “That isn’t the proper form, my love. Let me show you…”