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The corners of my mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but enough for London to smile back. She allowed the driver to help her out, then stepped aside to wait for me. I took a deep breath and stepped out into the chilly February air, taking London’s hand to ground me.
We walked towards Grandmother and the vicar, waiting by the door, each step taking effort. Behind me, I could hear the kids getting out of their car.
“Why are we at church on a Thursday?” Matthew asked.
“It’s Grandfather’s funeral,” Harrison whispered loudly.
“I want down,” Jane demanded in her typical loud three-year-old voice.
“Not now, love, we don’t want you to get dirty,” Parker said.
“Hush now,” Fleur said sharply. “You three need to behave. You’re representing the York family today, and you want to make Grandfather proud, don’t you?”
My chest tightened at Fleur’s words, reminding me of the many times Grandmother had said similar things to me. The York family name, making them proud. I could see all of that on Grandmother’s face as London and I climbed the steps.
“My deepest condolences for your loss, Lord York,” the vicar said.
“Thank you,” I replied automatically.
I felt London stiffen beside me, and it took me a moment to realize what had caused her reaction.
With everything going on, I’d forgotten that London was unaware of my family’s nobility. My father, and his father before him, had held the title of Baron, and now I held it too.
“Spencer, you’ll be standing between Vicar Warfield and me,” Grandmother instructed. “We’ll greet everyone as they arrive.”
I nodded, following the itinerary she’d provided. I was to remain with her while my mother and sisters went ahead into the church to take their seats and receive the attendees. Grandmother had meticulously planned every aspect of the service, including where each person would be and when. I’d been prepared to argue for my mother to stand with Grandmother and me, but she’d reassured me that she preferred to be inside to greet people. I couldn’t blame her for wanting to keep her distance from Grandmother, who seemed to treat my father’s death as if she was the only person allowed to grieve.
“There’s no need for you to wait outside in the cold,” Grandmother said to London in a polite but chilly tone. “There are plenty of seats available inside.”
London looked at me. “Do you want me to wait for your mother?”
I squeezed her hand, grateful for her understanding of what was most important. “Go on in,” I said. “Thank you.”
After kissing my cheek, she squeezed my hand and went inside alone. I watched her go, wishing I could have asked her to stand by my side, but I needed to show strength, not just for my family, but also because of my title. To do that, I had to stand alone.
“Make sure she’s seated in an appropriate place,” Grandmother said quietly to Fleur.
“She’ll be sitting next to me,” I said firmly.
Fleur scowled. “She’s not family.”
“I don’t care,” I replied.
“Not here,” Grandmother warned through a clenched smile.
I nodded, knowing that I would take care of London’s seating arrangements when I went inside.
* * *
It tookhours before Grandmother spoke to me again. “I cannot believe you brought that woman to your father’s funeral,” she said.
“She’s my girlfriend,” I replied coolly.
“And this is your first public function as the new baron. She’s inappropriate.”
I took a slow breath and greeted the Wembley family with a properly somber expression. After they moved on, I addressed Grandmother’s comment.
“London isn’t just some random woman I picked up off the street,” I said.
