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Eva had Uncle Lachlan and her children, and it was so painfully clear that those three people were her world.
Something that with each passing year Victoria feared she’d never have. Family of her own.
The fear that she would always be the Untouchable One, on an endless loop of traveling from Wolfbridge to Seahorn to London to Vinehill, only to do it again, year after year for the rest of her life, was becoming too much to bear.
Young.
The reassurance popped in her head.
She was still young. She had time. Lots of time.
But less time than three years ago when she naively believed a family of her own was just within her reach.
At least this journey was with Eva. Of all her aunts, Eva was the one that understood her at a certain level—understood that raw loneliness that had never really abated in Victoria’s heart.
The loneliness that came from growing up without a mother.
The only difference was that Eva had suffered brutality under her stepfather, whereas her Uncle Reiner had been firmly indifferent to Victoria during her early years.
Years when she was five and six and seven and eight that were painfully empty.
Then Sloane had appeared at Wolfbridge Castle and Reiner had met his match.
With Sloane, Victoria had gained not only a mother, but a whole extended family. Her Aunt Eva and Uncle Lachlan who was Sloane’s brother, and her Uncle Roe and Aunt Torrie who was Sloane’s cousin. Years Victoria had spent with all of them, and then when her natural father, Desmond, had returned to England three years ago, she’d gained her stepmother, Jules, whom she adored.
Family like she’d never thought possible when she was little. Yet for all the love she’d grown up with since she was nine, none of it could quite close the ever-festering, gaping wound that the early loneliness had left deep within her.
Reasonably, that was why Victoria modeled her future after Eva. For Eva was so entirely content and happy with her life that it hurt to watch her sometimes. Victoria knew that Eva’s happiness had only been born out of the pain of the past—so Eva appreciated everything in her life just a little bit more than everyone else.
Victoria nodded at the wistful look on Eva’s face, and a sad smile touched her lips. “Was Dunkin’s leg healing fast enough that they will arrive at Seahorn about the same time as us? It is only four weeks until Christmastide.”
Eva’s lips pulled to the side. “I hope they’ve already started the journey, but at the very least, I imagine they’ve packed up—which is its own additional wicked punishment for Lach. He hates overseeing the packing. Hates the slow travel. He would be riding on a horse and sleeping on the cold December ground along the way if he had his druthers.”
“But Elsbeth won’t allow it?”
Eva smirked at the thought of hereight-year-old daughter.“Not in a hundred years. Her grandfather pampered her too much before he died and she has very distinct memories that tell her she should be in cozy comfort all the time. Not to mention she has her father bewitched.”
Eva’s shoulders lifted in impish fun. “And I like comfort more than anyone—you should have seen Elsbeth’s face when she realized I was taking the nice carriage down to Wolfbridge. She did the calculation pretty quickly that meant she would be stuck with her brother in the secondary carriage for the ride to Seahorn.” She ruefully shook her head. “I fear the only person that has a chance at hardening up her soul to be a proper Scotswoman is her brother.”
Victoria reached out and slid her gloved hand along the plush red velvet sidewall of the carriage. This carriagewasparticularly nice. The springs on it most forgiving on the Lincolnshireroads.
She looked to Eva. “Elsbeth is only eight—she has plenty of time to harden up. Plus, if she’s already climbing the tower at Vinehill, weapons training can’t be far behind.”
Eva blanched slightly. “Don’t remind me. Wait—yes, do remind me to talk to Sloane about that when she arrives at Seahorn—I’ll need backup if I intend to keep scars off my little girl. Lach mentioned something about it a few weeks before I left, but I thought he was only trying to rile me up.”
Victoria chuckled at the thought. Her uncle did love to prod the fire into his wife’s eyes. For how Eva was one giant, kind heart juxtaposed next to her hard Scotsman, she had a spine of steel.
Good. With any luck, Lachlan and her cousins would already be at Seahorn.
She exhaled a silent breath of relief. The more people at Seahorn before they arrived, the better.
All of the families went to Seahorn for a month over Christmastide. And truly, if it wasn’t for the constant tension between her and her father, it would be Victoria’s favorite time of year.
Everyone was together—all of her younger cousins running amok.Their tiny faces splattered with flour when Cook let them all into the kitchen to “help” with the pastries. The ice skating if the shallow pond closest to Seahorn had frozen over. The games of hide and seek in the labyrinth of twisty, dead-end corridors in the castle.
She was a grown woman and yet she still loved all of it. Her childhood redone in the way it was supposed to have unfolded.
“Are you going to temper your anger at your father this Christmas?” Eva’s look pinned her, curious and without a hint of scolding. “I just want to know what we’re walking into this year.”
