Lorna looked up from the drawing room table, as Margaret, her daughter, just six years old, ran in.

“Mama! Papa’s back.”

Lorna grinned and set her quill aside. She had been drawing a design for a special vase that she planned to create. Margaret ran to her, her arms—now emerging from the pudginess of babyhood into the slim, long arms of a child—wrapping around Lorna’s waist.

“Papa’s back!” she repeated excitedly.

“Let’s go and greet him,” Lorna answered, standing up with Margaret still clinging around her waist. She brushed the little girl’s soft honey-coloured hair off her brow, and Margaret took her hand, running to the window.

“There he is! He rode Firelight today.”

“Did he?” Lorna said with a smile. She walked to the drawing room window and looked out. Luke was indeed in the drive, holding the reins of a red-roan thoroughbred. Margaret knew all the horses and was already a keen rider. Luke had purchased her a horse of her own, named Snowstorm, and Margaret spent hours with her riding instructor while Lorna worked in her pottery workshop in the estate garden.

“I want to go down,” Margaret insisted, turning and looking up at Lorna. Her eyes were pale blue, the colour of the sky in the early morning. Luke’s eyes were a much darker blue and the pale grey-blue of Margaret’s gaze was more similar to Lorna’s Papa.

“Where is little Henry?” Lorna asked.

“He’s with Mrs Hall,” Margaret said a little impatiently.

Lorna smiled. “I think we should fetch him too.” Henry, her son, was three and just starting to explore his world in earnest. “If you go downstairs, I’ll go up to the nursery.”

“Yes, Mama!”

Margaret was gone, a patter of small feet sounding in the hallway. Lorna smiled and walked slowly up the stairs towards the nursery.

“My lady! There you are,” Mrs Hall—a relative of Adah, Lorna’s lady’s maid—called from the nursery, where little Henry stood on the table, trying to see out of the window. “I was just wondering where you had gone. This young fellow is in quite a to-do about the horse’s arrival.”

Lorna smiled. “I shall take him downstairs now,” she answered, reaching for the little boy. He was dressed in a tiny white shirt and breeches—the fashion of dressing all children, boys and girls, in skirts until they were six or seven had waned somewhat, and Luke had insisted on little trousers for the boy from the age of two. Lorna lifted him up and he chuckled.

“Outside! Mama! Want outside.”

Lorna grinned and kissed his cheek. His skin was silky-soft.

“I know, young man,” she teased gently. “You will be outside in a moment. Papa’s here.”

“Papa! Papa!” He chorused joyfully.

Lorna chuckled and carried him to the door and down the stairs. At three, he was stocky for his age and quite heavy, but she never tired of carrying him when she had the chance—he was independent and stubborn and he spent most of his time running around on his small legs, exploring the garden on his own.

“Papa!” Henry yelled as they reached the front door. Luke was on the step, Margaret jumping about joyfully in the doorway. Beside her, Mr Randell, their butler, stood waiting to take Luke’s coat and hat.

Lorna briefly touched Henry’s soft chestnut hair before the little one dashed toward Luke, racing to hug him. He could barely reach Luke’s knees.

“Margaret! Henry!”

Luke lifted Margaret up, making her squeal with delight as he whirled her, her long blue dress trailing out as she whirled. She kicked out, pretending to escape, and Luke chuckled and held her up, kissing her cheek.

“How is my dear daughter?”

“Papa!” Margaret yelled. “Put me down again!”

Lorna chuckled. Luke was laughing as he gently set Margaret on her feet and bent down to lift little Henry. He held his son high overhead, and the little boy shrieked with delight.

“Papa! Papa!”

“How is my dear boy?” 

“Papa!” Henry yelled, overcome with joy. “Want down!”

Lorna giggled as the little boy, wriggling and squealing, struggled in Luke’s arms. Luke put him very gently on his feet and the two children stormed down the front stairs, running toward Firelight, Luke’s horse.

“Hal! Let me pat him,” Margaret insisted, grinning at the stable hand. He was seventeen and was one of Margaret’s favourite people on the estate. He let her help him groom the horses and when she was not riding, or—reluctantly—in the schoolroom with her governess, she was helping him with the horses.

Lorna watched as the youth let Margaret pet the big thoroughbred, who closed his eyes and let Margaret stroke him as he would let no other do. His tolerance of Margaret exceeded that he showed any other creature.

“How is my dear?” Luke asked, putting his arm around Lorna. She wrapped her arms around him, gazing up at him with love. His blue eyes stared back into hers and her heart melted as she hugged him.

“Well, thank you,” she said, leaning back to look up at him. “And you? Was it a pleasant ride?”

They walked into the entranceway. Mr Randell was hanging up Luke’s hat and coat. Lorna had taken time to become accustomed to him and his apparent lack of manners with Luke, but Luke never objected and Mr Randell always treated her with the deepest respect. Luke had explained that the fellow had run his household for years and, despite his seeming inexperience, he was an extremely capable butler and steward.

“It was a pleasant ride,” Luke replied. “And now, I think, we are all set.”

“That’s grand!” Lorna said with a smile. Luke had been concluding some business ventures and, to celebrate their success, they had decided to host a party. The date coincided well with Luke’s mother’s birthday, which they would be celebrating at the same time. Lorna gazed up at Luke with love. They headed into the drawing room.

“How are the little ones?” he asked as he went over to the window. The sound of children’s running feet on the stairs was already apparent and they would only have a few seconds to discuss before Margaret and Henry appeared in the room.

“Very well,” Lorna said with a grin. “Margaret kept asking where you were, and Henry was still playing with his rocking-horse in the nursery. He only gets off the thing to eat meals and play in the garden.”

Luke laughed. “My father having his revenge,” he said with a grin. Luke’s father, while strongly against the match at first, nonetheless adored his grandchildren and sent gifts almost as often as her own father did. He visited less often, and Lorna was not entirely ungrateful that she saw him only a few times a year, though he treated her with distant respect when they did chance to interact.

Lorna laughed. “Perhaps that’s true.”

“I have to admit, the thought crossed my mind. But then, if he’d bought a trumpet, that would have been far sweeter torture.”

Lorna was still laughing as Margaret ran to her father, wrapping her arms around him.

“Papa! Firelight let me stroke him. And I rode on him back to the stable.”

“That’s grand,” Luke said, stroking his daughter’s hair gently back from her face. “You’re a fine rider.”

Margaret blushed. Lorna’s heart twisted. Margaret’s face was a pixyish copy of her mother’s, the top half identical to Mama’s and the bottom all Luke’s long, thin countenance. A portrait of Mama and Papa hung in the gallery at Pineview House, moved there from Burwood as a gift from her father. It was one from when they were young, and they smiled radiantly down at their grandchildren from the frame. The children liked the gallery and played there often. Lorna was glad that her mother was part of their lives, even though they had never met her.

“Eat,” Henry said, looking at the tea-table. It was one of his favourite words, one he used often and forcefully. Luke laughed.

“It’s teatime, young man. Shall we sit down to eat?”

“Eat!” Henry repeated, indignance in his tone as though his father had not understood him well. Lorna laughed.

“Yes, young man,” Luke said with a grin, reaching for Henry and lifting him onto a chair. “We can eat now.”

Lorna grinned. They had decided to flout custom and allow the children to eat meals at the table with them. They spent whole days with the children, and Lorna was sure that other members of the ton might be shocked, but neither she nor Luke cared what people thought. They never went to London unless it was for a brief visit with Portia and Thomas in winter.

Lorna smiled as Henry reached for the plate of iced buns. Luke raised a brow, grinning, and reached for one.

“Half, I think, young fellow. You need to have some room for dinner.”

“Icing,” Henry stated firmly. While he could speak in full sentences, he tended not to, choosing to use the most meaningful words. Lorna chuckled, guessing immediately what he meant.

“The half with the icing?”

“Yes!” Henry stated, as though it should be obvious. They were all laughing as Luke cut the iced bun in half and passed Henry his half.

“Cake!” Margaret said excitedly. Lorna grinned. Margaret was usually full of words, chattering away in quite complex sentences for her age, but in the presence of food—especially food she liked—she could become as monosyllabic as their son.

“Yes, Margaret, you may have a slice of cake,” Luke answered, passing her a slice of her favourite cream cake. It was four o’clock, but the children were accustomed to having tea before dinner, and running around the garden for an hour would ensure that they had plenty of room for the next meal.

Lorna poured tea for herself and Luke as he chatted about his ride into town. The largest town in the area was Margate, and it was there that Luke had ridden; the ride taking all of one day. After concluding his business, he had stayed the night and returned as quickly as he could. 

“And the best part was coming back,” Luke concluded, smiling at Lorna. She blushed.

“Even though I did not go to Margate, I must agree.” She quipped.

Luke laughed. His eyes held hers and Lorna felt her heart race. They had lived together at Pineview House for six years, almost seven, and he could still set her soul alight when he levelled a certain gaze at her. She smiled and his smile was even more intense in return, making her heart thump.

“Are you two eating your cake?” Luke asked, looking over at the two children, who were uncharacteristically quiet. Margaret was eating daintily with a silver fork but had already almost devoured all of the cream cake, while Henry tucked into his bun, eating with his hands. He was more than halfway through. 

Luke grinned. “You need some cleaning up, young man,” he said gently.

Lorna chuckled. 

When Henry had eaten, Luke retrieved a handkerchief and cleaned the icing off his sticky son, and then the two children ran out into the garden. Their staff included a young maid, a cousin of Betty’s, and she was excellent at keeping an eye on the little ones for a while in the garden. Usually, Luke and Lorna would do it themselves, but they sat at the table a little longer, enjoying one another’s company.

“You truly are in good health?” Luke asked gently.

Lorna nodded. “Yes, just a little sleepy,” she told him firmly. She stifled a yawn. The springtime was a warm one, the evenings pleasant and sunny, making her want to sleep in the sunshine. 

Luke grinned. “I trust you have not exhausted yourself organising the picnic tomorrow?”

Lorna shook her head. “It was no trouble.”

Luke just smiled. His blue eyes were full of warmth as his gaze held hers. 

“What?” Lorna asked, a blush slowly creeping into her cheeks as the pulse in her throat started to race.

“You never seem to have any trouble organising anything. You amaze me.”

Lorna’s cheeks heated until she was sure they were blazing red. She giggled.

“You’re rather amazing yourself, Lord Luke.”

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling. Lorna held his gaze and he stood up, pushing back his chair, and came to stand beside hers. He put his hands on her shoulders. She stood up and he wrapped his arms around her.

“I am so glad to see you, my beautiful sweetheart.”

Lorna blushed again. “As am I, to see you. My handsome dearest,” she added, and if she had not already been blushing, she would have done so then. He grinned.

“Do you need to rest?” he asked gently, holding her close and kissing her cheek. “Or should we see what those rascals are up to in the garden?”

Lorna chuckled. “I think I have sufficient strength for a little rascal or two.”

“Good.”

Luke held her hand and they walked down the stairs together. At the door, Lorna paused to take a shawl from the rack. It was not cold outside, but a small breeze blew, and she found that she was sensitive to breezes of late. She wrapped it around her shoulders, covering the blue muslin dress that she wore. It was a rich, strong blue like the noonday sky. More colours had crept into her wardrobe over the six years out of London, and she wore them joyfully.

Parkview House was not a particularly large house, when they moved in, and the garden had been relatively modest, but in the six years since they had lived there, Luke’s investments started to become rather lucrative. They had bought up sections of land, which Luke leased at a fair rate to tenant farmers, and the money they made from the rent, he reinvested, allowing them to buy more land and to redecorate the house. Parkview House was surrounded by quite an extensive estate of its own, and the gardens were beautiful. Trimmed lawns met pretty flowerbeds, and fountains played into ponds surrounded by roses and irises. Lorna smiled as she and Luke walked out the door to the garden, hearing the happy laughter of the children.

“I’ll catch you!” Margaret shouted, running down the path. 

Henry, whose legs were much shorter, but who had quite a considerable turn of speed when he got started, was rushing down the lawn, little legs moving with appreciable energy. Margaret caught him and the two of them tumbled over in the lawn. 

As Lorna prepared to rush over, her heart racing with shocked concern, Henry laughed.

Lorna grinned. His laughter was infectious, a delightful giggle that set them all to laughing the moment they heard it. Luke was laughing too as he bent down to dust Henry off and set him on his feet again.

“Now, you two go indoors. You’re a right mess. What will your nanny say to us?” he asked.

“She’ll tell you that you’re naughty,” Henry told him.

Luke roared with delighted laughter.

“She probably will,” he agreed. “And she wouldn’t be wrong. Now, inside with you, young man. And you, too, sweetling,” he added, as Margaret stood up, dusting off her skirt.

“I want to feed the horses!” Margaret insisted.

“We’ll go to the stable quickly,” Luke agreed. “But just a few minutes. And then we all have to go upstairs to change for dinner.”

“Hurrah!” Margaret yelled, rushing off across the lawn to the stables. Lorna watched her running, her long fair hair streaming out from its ribbons, her dress billowing out around her fast, strong legs. Her heart ached to see the joy and freedom of their daughter. It was what she had wished for her to have.

Luke held Henry on his shoulders while Margaret fed the horses with grass and a few carrots that Hal, the stable hand, fortuitously had with him. Lorna watched, her heart bursting with love. Then they all made their way indoors.

“You young fellows need to sleep early tonight,” Luke informed Henry as he set him onto his feet again upstairs. “It’s a big day tomorrow.”

“Hurrah!” Margaret cheered.

“Who will be visiting?” Luke asked Henry.

“Grandpapa,” Henry began. “And Great-Aunt. And Grandma and Grandpa. And Auntie Portia. And Uncle Charles and Auntie Jane. And…”

Luke and Lorna smiled at each other as the little boy rattled off the names of all the visitors, which was, when one stated them one at a time, quite a considerable number. 

“Yes,” Luke agreed, when he had enumerated everyone. “And that means you’ll be needing all of your strength tomorrow.”

“Play!” Henry exclaimed. “I want to play.”

“Yes. You will play lots and lots tomorrow.”

Luke and Lorna were still smiling at each other as the children went into the nursery to change for dinner.

Later, Lorna and Luke sat side-by-side in the bedchamber. Lorna was sleepy and she rested her head on Luke’s shoulder. He bent to kiss her cheek.

“You truly are feeling well?” he asked her gently.

“Yes, quite well,” Lorna insisted. “I really am just tired.”

“Good.” Luke kissed her cheek again, his arm wrapping her close. “And you need your strength for tomorrow too.” He ruffled her hair, which was loose around her shoulders. She grinned and shoved him playfully.

“You, too.”

They were both still smiling as they got ready for bed.

The next morning, preparations began in earnest for the picnic. As soon as she was awake, Lorna went down to the kitchen to check the progress of the baking, and to instruct Mr Randell on how to prepare the garden for the picnic. He would oversee the footmen and other staff who would prepare it.

When she had concluded her duties in the kitchen, she went upstairs to the breakfast room. Luke was already there, wearing a blue velvet tailcoat and a high-necked shirt, tied with a simple cravat, as always. He stood up and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her cheek.

“Come and sit down,” he said gently. “Do not overexert yourself. You must have a hearty breakfast to maintain your strength.”

“We’ll all be having a feast later,” Lorna insisted, but she let him pour her some tea and pass her a croissant, nonetheless. She smiled warmly at him. He always fussed about her, and she loved it.

After breakfast, the children were let loose in the garden while the adults oversaw the preparation of the house. Their guests would arrive at midday, and most of them would not stay long in the house, but Grandpapa—Lorna’s father—and Aunt Eloise would be staying with them for a few days before travelling back to London. Rooms had to be made ready for them.

At midday, Lorna was in the drawing room, overseeing the tidying, when Henry shouted from his perch on the chair by the window.

“A coach! It’s here!”

Lorna grinned as the little boy exploded out of the room, running to the door as fast as his small—but powerful—legs would take him. Luke and Margaret were already on the stairs. Lorna took a second to check her long, sage-green skirts for dust. She was wearing her favourite dress, a green one that brought out the greenish flecks in her hazel eyes. Her long chestnut hair was arranged in a thick bun, ornamented with a ribbon in dark grey that matched well with the gown. 

Satisfied that her skirts were not dirty after the morning supervising, she ran downstairs, holding Henry’s hand so that he would not fall. They reached the door just as Papa and Aunt Eloise arrived. A second coach was already drawing up and Lorna’s heart soared as she hugged her father close.

“Papa. So lovely to see you.”

“Grand to see you, daughter. Just grand.” Her father was almost crying—Lorna could feel a wobble in his breath as he held her close. Lorna hugged him tight, squeezing as hard as she could, and then stepped back, gazing into his blue eyes.

“I am so glad you’re here,” she said sincerely.

Her father swallowed hard. “As am I. Now, where are my dear grandchildren? Who wants a surprise?”

“Me!” Henry yelled, rushing to hug his grandfather. Papa swung him into the air, laughing at the child’s happy squeals.

“They are so beautiful!” Aunt Eloise exclaimed as she hugged Lorna. “And so big! How Margaret has grown!”

“She has,” Lorna agreed. 

They both watched Margaret, who—having greeted her grandfather and great-aunt, was peering at the coaches outside.

“Who else is here?” Luke asked her.

Lorna’s heart soared as the coach door opened and Thomas and Portia alighted. They had travelled down in their own coach, since they did not have room in the big Landau with Luke’s parents anymore. With them, as they came up the steps were Alexander, their son, and Juliana, their daughter. Portia held the hand of their youngest daughter, whose name was Henriette. 

“Look! Your cousins are here!” Luke said excitedly.

“Henriette!” Both Margaret and Henry yelled. The new baby, just almost two, was fascinating to them. Lorna tensed, but Portia quickly lifted the little child as the two older cousins rushed towards her.

“Good afternoon,” Portia greeted them, a grin lighting up her long, slim face. Lorna smiled back.

“Welcome to Pineview House,” she replied, smiling warmly at her.

“Thank you. Alexander! Come on. Not down there,” she called out, but there was no stopping the older boy, who was already running onto the lawn. At seven, just a year older than Margaret, and the eldest of the cousins, he was almost as strong-willed as Margaret and Henry. He looked exactly like Thomas.

Lorna was chuckling as four children—Margaret, Henry, Alexander and Juliana—ran around the lawn and into the house.

“Whew,” Papa said with a sigh. “It’s tiring just watching them.”

Lorna chuckled and stepped back, allowing their guests to enter the house. They would all wait in the drawing room until everyone had arrived, after which they would make their way to the lawn for the picnic.

They did not need to wait long. Lorna was just pouring tea when Alexander, who was watching the front drive through the window, yelled an announcement.

“A coach!” he yelled.

Lorna chuckled as all the children poured down the stairs. Portia had allowed Mrs Hall to come in and keep an eye on Henriette, but the four older children were already running downstairs, Margaret holding Henry’s hand so that he did not fall downstairs. Lorna stood to join them, and she and Luke went to welcome their guests.

Luke’s parents had arrived, and as they alighted from the coach, a smaller, newer coach drew up too. Lorna’s heart soared as she recognised it. 

“Charles!” she called out.

Her brother was already jumping out of the coach, reaching up to lift Jane out. They had married six months after Lorna and Luke, and with them, they had Edward, their son.

Lorna grinned as the little boy, who was five and a half, jumped out of the coach, making Charles gasp. He caught the child, and little Edward was giggling as Charles set him on his feet.

“Look who’s here!” Charles cried out as the cousins ran to embrace the little boy. Edward was small and stocky, with blonde hair inherited from somewhere—Charles said it was Jane’s side of the family. His hazel eyes, however, were much like Lorna’s own. His face resembled Charles’ exactly, save for his fine mouth and slender nose, which were a perfect likeness of his mother’s.

The three boys were instantly playing—despite the disparity of their ages, they all seemed to get along famously. Alexander could be a little rowdy, but Edward—despite being almost two years younger—had no trouble with him. They were all chuckling as they ran around the lawn.

“Charles. Jane!” Lorna called joyfully, and they both embraced her, setting aside any customs that would have required a standoffish bob or handshake. “How wonderful to see you!”

Lorna smiled at Jane, who dimpled prettily. Charles was gazing at her with as much adoration as ever. Lorna’s heart filled with warmth, as it always did, when she saw that, and they all walked into the house.

“Shall we go inside?” Luke asked. The two little girls—Margaret and Juliana—were standing watching the boys, evidently about to join in. Juliana was also five, and despite the fact that Juliana was raised in town and much more demurely than Margaret, the two of them had been known to return for dinner as muddied and grass-speckled as the boys were.

Lorna greeted Luke’s parents. She felt her throat tighten, as it always did. She was tense, but the Duke of Erendale bowed respectfully to her.

“Good afternoon, daughter,” he greeted her formally.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” Lorna replied, dropping a curtsey.

“Lorna. How wonderful to see you!” Lady Erendale exclaimed; her dark eyes bright. “And the children! How they have grown! How wonderful!”

Lorna smiled and could not resist embracing her. “Happy birthday,” she said warmly. Lady Erendale blinked, clearly touched.

“Thank you, my dear.”

“Grandma! Grandpa!” Margaret and Henry chorused, running to greet them. Of the five children, only Edward was not their grandchild. He frowned and looked at Charles, who smiled at him.

“Those are Uncle Luke’s parents,” he tried to explain, but Edward still seemed confused.

“Your grandpa is upstairs,” Luke told Edward gently, meaning Lorna’s father.

They were all laughing as they went into the house.

The children were hard to contain, though Grandma and Grandpa—Luke’s parents—had brought some toys which delighted them and distracted them temporarily. 

Lorna poured tea for the guests, gazing at the windows and feeling a little tense. There was one more set of guests to arrive.

Alexander spotted them first. He and Margaret were keeping watch at the window.

“A coach!” He yelled. Margaret was already running to the door. The rest of the children poured out of the door and Lorna and Luke stood, going downstairs to welcome their guests.

Lorna’s heart was full of emotion as she watched the smart, new coach draw up outside the house. The door opened and a familiar, beloved face appeared; one that Lorna loved like she would love a sister. Caroline’s face was framed with her thick dark hair, and she beamed as she saw Lorna, waving with a slender hand.

“Lorna! How wonderful!”

She was already greeting Lorna as the door opened. Hugh Edgefield got out and reached up for her, a smile on his squarish face. He saw Luke and beamed.

“Luke! How are you, you old rogue?”

“If I’m old, so are you.”

They were both laughing as Hugh thumped Luke on the back. Luke pushed him playfully. Lorna turned to embrace Caroline, whose arm was wrapped protectively around their son, Matt. He was tall and slender, like Caroline, his hair chestnut brown like his father’s. His eyes were greenish hazel, paler than Caroline’s eyes were. He saw Luke and his face lit up.

“Uncle Luke!” he yelled.

“Matt!” Luke shouted and lifted the child up, holding him overhead. Matt was a little older than Edward and the two children were co-conspirators in every game in the garden.

“Fencing, Uncle Luke!” Matt insisted as Luke put him down on his feet. “I want to show you what I’ve learned.”

“In a moment, young man.” Luke grinned. Matt was like his father—he loved fencing. Luke spent as much time as he could playing with the boy, teaching him things that he had learned in France.

Lorna was beaming as she slipped her arm through Caroline’s, and they walked into the house together.

“It’s so good to see you,” she said warmly. “I missed you.”

“It’s wonderful to see you!” Caroline insisted. “I want to see your new work! You said you were taking on new challenges.”

Lorna grinned. Caroline had kept up her pottery-making hobby too, though in not as organised a fashion. She made pots occasionally, and Matt was often in her workroom, kneading clay and making tiny weapons for tiny soldiers.

“I cannot wait for you to see it,” Lorna said with a smile.

The picnic was ready, spread out on the lawn beneath the trees. As soon as Lorna and Luke returned to the drawing room with the new guests, everyone eagerly spilled into the garden to begin the meal. Benches had been set for Lorna’s father, Luke’s parents, and Aunt Eloise, while the others sat on blankets spread across the grass. The children, however, were far less interested in the cold pie, sandwiches, and cheeses than the adults. But when the tart and cake appeared, their attention shifted, and they abandoned their running around to sit quietly and eat with focused enjoyment.

“Mama!” Luke announced as they were concluding the meal. “Lorna and I have a gift for you.”

“Oh, Luke…” Lady Erendale demurred, but she was grinning in delight. Lorna stood and fetched the gift, which was concealed with a cloth and which the maids had carefully hidden on the terrace so that it was in easy reach. “What is it?”

“Open it,” Luke said with a grin. 

“Oh, Luke!” Lady Erendale exclaimed as she unwrapped the gift. It was a vase, made of glazed porcelain, shaped like an urn, hand-painted with dozens of roses. “It’s beautiful. It’s magnificent! Where did you get it?”

“It’s a secret,” Luke said with a smug smile.

He and Lorna shared a secret glance. Lorna had made it. She had worked on it for weeks, using techniques that she had mastered through her practice as a potter. 

“It’s stunning,” Caroline told her as the children hurried off onto the lawn and the adults returned to chatting and drinking lemonade. Caroline knew the secret too; the only other one of the adults besides Charles—and maybe Jane—who knew anything about Lorna’s hobby.

“Thank you,” Lorna said, accepting the compliment with a smile. “That new technique of transferring a design onto glazed porcelain is wondrous!”

“You did it extremely well,” Caroline acknowledged.

The picnic progressed, and the adults moved, taking a walk through the garden. Charles and Jane wandered down a flower-lined path, while Hugh and Caroline were laughing, watching the children playing on the lawn. Thomas and Portia were talking with Luke’s parents and Aunt Eloise, laughing about something in London. Papa was listening in, but talking more to Hugh and Caroline, who were commenting on the children’s antics.

“Would you like to sit in the rose garden?” Luke asked Lorna gently. It was her favourite part of the garden, where roses of all sorts perfumed the air and lavender and other sweet herbs brought the bees. A small pond was in the centre, and a rose arbour gave a home to the climbing roses.

“Yes, please,” Lorna agreed.

They stood and made their way to the rose garden.

In the garden, there was a quiet stillness. The occasional shriek of the children playing on the lawn reached them, but otherwise, silence prevailed. The water babbled softly nearby, and Lorna leaned back, the bench under the arbour warm from the sun. The scent of roses filled the air, and the hum of the bees added to the drowsy sweetness of the garden.

“It was a fine picnic,” Luke said gently. He sat beside her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, holding her close.

“It was,” Lorna agreed.

“Thank you for organising it,” Luke said softly.

“It was no trouble,” Lorna said with a grin.

Luke chuckled. “You always say that,” he said. He kissed her cheek. Lorna shut her eyes, nestling close.

“You said you were feeling chilly,” Luke said, mentioning something she said earlier. “Is it better here? Would you like me to fetch something?”

“No, dearest,” Lorna said gently. “Please stay. It’s pleasant and warm.”

“I would prefer to stay,” Luke agreed and kissed her.

 Lorna chuckled and they sat silently, listening to the distant shouts and the sound of the fountain. 

“You are sure you’re well, dear?” Luke asked after a moment. He sounded worried and she could see his concerned stare as she turned to look at him.

“I’m quite well, thank you,” she told him gently. Her cheeks burned and she swallowed hard, suddenly shy.

“What is it?” he asked, seeing her look away.

“I… I am expecting another baby,” Lorna told him quietly.

Luke stared at her. His eyes widened, round and huge. His jaw dropped and Lorna had to smile. His astonishment was quite funny.

“You… you are? What? When…” Luke was laughing as he hugged her. He kissed her cheek and stared into her eyes. “How wonderful!”

Lorna chuckled. “Since April. I wanted to be sure before I told you. I would have said something sooner, but I wanted to be sure.”

“Lorna! It’s wonderful!” Luke was laughing, his eyes damp as though he was fighting happy tears. “Another child! A little son or daughter.”

Lorna grinned. “Henry and Margaret and another child—I think that constitutes an army.”

Luke roared with mirth. “Yes! Though Margaret and Henry are formidable on their own. We need no army when we have those two.”

“Quite so.” Lorna chuckled.

Luke embraced her and Lorna rested her head on his shoulder, the warmth of his arms and his tender touch making her heart melt. She shut her eyes, love flooding through her as she wrapped her arms around him and held him close.

The sound of the children playing floated over the garden, and she held the man she loved most in the world, and she knew that sometimes, all one had to do was wait, and love with an open heart, and the world moved, time passed and happiness beyond measure arrived with one.

A white butterfly flitted over the garden, reminding Lorna of her mother, who, as Aunt Eloise had already remarked, resembled her so closely.

She gazed up into Luke’s eyes and her heart was filled with love and joy.

“I love you, Luke,” she whispered, her voice soft as she lost herself in his blue gaze.

“I love you, too,” he replied, his words as soft as the touch of his hand on her cheek.

They kissed, a shared moment, sealing their love—two hearts united, forever bound.