Bonus Epilogue

December 1791

Adam had discovered very quickly during his first year at Harrow that it was tradition for fathers to visit their sons at school, a tradition he had been told continued at Oxford. He’d resigned himself immediately to not being part of that. And he’d told himself firmly that he didn’t care.

But Lucas had, without Adam saying a word about any of it, visited him multiple time at Harrow. He’d worried a little that Lucas and Mother Julia would forget about him as the years passed. They didn’t live at Brier Hill any longer, and they had four children of their own now. He didn’t entirely know how to make sense of their continued presence in his life.

That confusion, however, did not prevent him from accepting the invitation Lucas had extended when he’d arrived at Harrow a couple of days before school recessed for Christmas. Adam would be spending the festive season at Lampton Park.

He’d not had a Christmas with his honorary family in four years. He’d visited them at Lampton Park, just not as part of the holy season. That the prospect made him as nervous as it did eager was a frustrating thing.

He was thirteen years old now, hardly a baby. Yet he was acting embarrassingly infantile.

“It’s a shame Harry couldn’t make the journey with us,” Lucas said. “I suspect the three of us could have some legendary larks at the Park.”

“I don’t have larks.” That might disappoint Lucas, but Adam didn’t think it fair to mislead him.

“Ah, but I’ve been dreaming of a Highwayman’s Christmas for years.” Lucas’s eyes danced about the way they always did when he teased Adam. No one ever teased him but Lucas. Everyone else was too afraid, which was a very useful thing.

“I was a little ridiculous during that first visit to Brier Hill.”

“You were brilliant.” Lucas Jonquil had a penchant for jests and amusing absurdity, but he also allowed people to see when he was being sincere.

While Adam appreciated being the recipient of that openness, he knew he could never match it. Another thing that would likely disappoint Lucas.

“I didn’t know you would be inviting me to spend Christmas at Lampton Park,” Adam said. “I don’t have a present for Mother Julia.”

Lucas grinned evermore broadly. “Don’t you realize, Adam? You are the present.”

“I am?”

“I have been anticipating for weeks the look on her face when she realizes you are with me. You and I are soon to be legends in the annals of Jonquil Family Christmases.”

When she realizes . . . A worrisome realization followed close on that declaration. “She doesn’t know I’m returning with you?”

“Julia has been entirely jealous of my visits to Harrow to see you, but she worries that if you were being visited by a lady who mothers you as much as she does, you might be ridiculed for it.”

“No one ridicules me.” Adam had made perfectly sure of that. It had taken a shocking amount of fisticuffs and an unwillingness to back down from any challenge, but life at Harrow was easier now that everyone was too afraid of him to torture him. “Will I be an inconvenience to her?”

“To Julia?” Lucas shook his head as if the very idea were entirely absurd. “Not at all.”

“What about your mother? She lives at Lampton Park.”

“And she tucks herself cozily in at the Dower House whenever she wishes for time to herself. She’ll not be the least vexed.”

Adam had met the dowager countess during his previous visits, but he’d not felt the same closeness to her as he did to Lucas and Mother Julia. Truth be told, he didn’t feel the same closeness to anyone as he did to them.

A mere moment later, Lampton Park came into view. Adam wanted to feel excited, but he was still feeling inarguably anxious. He was not at all accustomed to the feeling, and he didn’t overly like it.

The carriage stopped at the front portico. The moment the door was open, Lucas eagerly jumped out. Adam didn’t have to guess why—the answer presented itself. Two little boys with golden curls just like Lucas’s rushed from the house with shouts of “Papa!” and were scooped up by their father.

“You were gone for seven hundred years, Papa,” the older of the two said.

“Not seven hundred,” the other objected. “But lots.”

“I was fetching a Christmas surprise for your mother.” Lucas kissed them each on their cheeks, holding them close and bouncing them excitedly. “Where are the twins?”

“We are faster than they are,” the older boy proudly declared.

Adam watched from the shadows of the carriage interior. The Jonquil family was always loving and affectionate. Seeing that was one of the things he appreciated about being with them.

“You are going to need two more arms, Lucas.”

Mother Julia.

Adam sat up at the sound of her voice, leaning a little more toward the door so he could see her better. He’d missed her. Being near her again tugged fiercely at his heart. It was too dark inside for him to be spotted, and he liked that: being able to feel things but not be seen feeling them.

She was walking slowly toward Lucas with two tiny boys, the twins, toddling beside her. Was she truly going to be pleased that he was there? Her family had grown so much since that first Christmas. There wasn’t really a need for him any longer.

Lucas turned to his oldest boy, still in one of his arms. “They are walking faster than they used to. They’ll be able to keep pace with you soon enough.”

“Papa, I don’t have to be fastest. I am in charge.” The little boy’s dramatic tone brought a smile to his father’s face.

“Time to trade hugs.” Lucas set his older two boys on their feet once more, then took his twins in his arms. “My sweetings.” He kissed their cheeks, just as he had the other boys.

“It is almost Christmas, Papa,” one of the twins said. “Grandmother likes Christmas. And Mama likes Christmas. And we like Christmas.”

Throughout the more vocal boy’s declaration, his twin silently and enthusiastically nodded.

“I am glad you’re excited,” Lucas said, “because so am I.”

Watching him with his sons turned Adam’s anxiousness to a sadness, though he wasn’t sure why. Their interaction didn’t elicit grief-filled reminders of his late father. Adam loved his father, and his father had loved him, but they hadn’t often exchanged hugs, and neither of them had used pet names. His feelings were something different.

Mother Julia managed to quickly kiss Lucas even with his arms full of children and two more clinging to his legs. “You were gone longer than expected. Did you have an errand beyond London?”

“I did.” The mischief in Lucas’s voice eased some of the heaviness in Adam’s heart. “I was fetching your Christmas present.” And quick as that, Adam was nervous again.

“Considering you left me here for nearly a fortnight with four boys who wanted nothing more than to have their nearest parent run with them for hours on end,”—there was too much of a laugh in her voice for the complaint to be a serious one—“this Christmas present you diverted course for had best be something truly magnificent.”

“My dear,” Lucas said, “this present is one I will reference for years as a means of getting myself out of your black books.”

Mother Julia laughed. “I like when you inevitably land yourself in trouble; I get the most wonderful apology presents.”

“This one, sweetheart, isn’t an apology. It’s simply because I love you both.”

“Us both?”

Lucas looked back through the open carriage door. His arms full, he twitched his head in a clear instruction for Adam to disembark.

I am the Duke of Kielder , Adam reminded himself. I am not a coward.

He squared his shoulders and moved to the open carriage door. Mother Julia pulled in a sharp breath. Adam stepped out, frustrated with himself for being too nervous to look at her. If she was disappointed, seeing it would hurt too deeply for him to endure.

“Oh, my Adam.” She threw her arms around him and hugged him in the fierce and firm embrace he’d come to associate with his beloved substitute mother. “I have missed you.”

He, who never hugged anyone, returned the offering. And for the first time in ages, he breathed.

***

Christmas Eve

Adam only ever played games when he was with Lucas. And he was always surprised to discover he was not only good at them, but he also enjoyed taking part in them. He sometimes felt as though he were a different person when he was with Lucas and Mother Julia.

They had gathered the Christmas greenery that morning, before the boys had taken their midday naps, something Mother Julia said Philip, her oldest son, only pretended to participate in. The drawing room was festively decorated, and the family was enjoying a rousing game of huckle buckle beanstalk.

Adam was part of it all.

In fact, the item they were searching for was the carved horse Mr. Simpkin had given him during that long-ago Christmas at Brier Hill. Though he wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone beyond this family, Adam took it with him whenever he was away from Falstone. He felt less lonely with that reminder of such a happy time in his life.

Layton, the second oldest, approached Adam with a look of frustration. “Where did Papa hide the horse? I cannot find it.”

Did all four-year-olds pout like that?

“I don’t know where it is hidden,” Adam said. “I am looking for it as well.”

He wasn’t as comfortable with children as he wished he were. He’d done his best to follow Lucas’s lead with them, but Adam hadn’t the same boundless energy or penchant for playfulness. He also wasn’t one for hugs and sweet smiles and softness, like Mother Julia. Still, he thought the four little boys liked him, a miracle fit for the holy season.

Lucas snatched little Layton up. “Adam is not going to help you cheat.” He tickled the boy, sending him into a fit of giggles.

The two-year-olds were playing a game of their own, running nonstop around the room. Jason identified everything they passed. Corbin nodded his agreement.

Philip marched over to the sofa beside Adam and tossed himself dramatically onto the cushions. “If I don’t find the horse, Christmas will be ruined!” His eyes darted to Adam, clearly checking to see if his performance had the desired effect.

“I have had a great many Christmases ruined, Lord Jonquil. This won’t manage it, I assure you.”

The little boy climbed up onto the sofa and looked up at him. His golden brows pulled in an expression of focused concern. “Why have your Christmases been ruined?”

“I don’t have a father or mother to play games with me.”

“Who do you play games with?”

Adam hadn’t expected an interrogation from a five-year-old. “With no one. That is why my Christmases are not as merry as yours.”

“Mama.” Philip remained on the sofa but turned to face his mother. “Adam Grace doesn’t have anyone to play games with him. He needs to stay with us so he can play games on Christmas.”

The little lordling had taken to calling him “Adam Grace,” though Adam hadn’t determined yet whether the boy was genuinely confused by his parents calling their visitor Adam while the staff all called him “Your Grace” or if the boy was using the misnomer in order to be funny.

“Adam is staying with us for Christmas, Philip,” Mother Julia said. “Your papa brought him to Lampton Park specifically to be here at Christmas.”

Philip turned wide eyes on Adam. He dropped his voice to a vehement whisper. “Tomorrow is Christmas.”

“I know.” Did he actually think Adam didn’t know what day it was? There was a lot Adam didn’t understand about children.

The little boy stood on the sofa and, with a posture and tone that would not be out of place on any stage in London, declared dramatically, “We have to stop playing huckle buckle beanstalk.”

Lucas, who had Corbin under an arm and was chasing Jason, to the delight of both his twins, asked, “Why do we need to stop?”

“Adam Grace is staying for Christmas, Papa.” Philip set his fists on his hips. “He has to be part of the surprise.”

“Surprise?” Mother Julia looked to Lucas with wide-eyed curiosity.

Philip slapped his hands over his mouth, clearly fearing he would reveal a secret.

Layton filled in the silence, though he addressed his father, not his mother. “Adam is one of Mama’s boys. He has to be part of the Christmas surprise.”

“Right.” Lucas assumed a somber demeanor and walked to Adam. “Carry this one.” He held out Corbin in the manner one would hand over a portmanteau, which, for reasons Adam didn’t understand, made the tiny boy laugh again.

Adam eyed Corbin with misgiving that he knew he didn’t keep hidden. “I don’t have experience with children.”

“Precisely why I’m having you hold the one least likely to bite.”

“Bite?”

“A small chance of it, and a small bite at that.” Lucas’s somber expression dissolved quickly.

“Lucas will tease you mercilessly if you let him, Adam,” Mother Julia said.

Adam knew that well enough. He found it a little confusing, but he liked it just the same.

With a smile, Lucas set Corbin’s feet on the ground. “Hold Adam’s hand,” he instructed his boy. “Jason, take the other one.”

The small twins tugged Adam to his feet.

“And I am not to be told what this excursion is that you all are undertaking?” Mother Julia didn’t actually seem upset to be excluded. It was more of this family’s tendency to tease.

“It is a surprise,” Layton declared firmly, and that was the end of the conversation.

Adam, tugged along by the twins, followed Lucas, flanked by Philip and Layton, out of the drawing room.

“I am not actually one of her boys, you know.” He felt he ought to point that out before he was pulled into anything he had no right to be part of.

Lucas stopped and turned back to look at him. “Do you truly think that because you don’t live here or because we don’t share a surname or a family tree, you aren’t one of our boys? I taught you about family, Adam, and I taught you better than that.”

“Family is who you choose.” Adam repeated the lesson Lucas had ingrained in him during that long-ago Christmas celebration.

“And we aren’t ever going to unchoose you, Adam Boyce. Not ever.” He shrugged. “Even if you decide to unchoose us, it won’t do you any good. I know where you live.”

Unchoose them? Adam never would. Never could.

“The surprise, Papa.” Philip tugged impatiently on his father’s coattail.

Lucas raised an eyebrow. Under his breath, he said to Adam, “In case you were wondering who is truly in charge in this house.”

“I’ve known it from the moment I met your oldest five Christmases ago.”

Lucas laughed as his son dragged him onward. They continued all the way to the library.

When they entered the large room, Lucas said to Philip, “Go fetch it,” and the boy rushed without hesitation to a chairside table.

The little Lord Jonquil pulled open the drawer and, rising up on his toes, reached inside. He pulled out a leather box.

Lucas motioned for Adam to join him on the long sofa. He did so, and the boys climbed up, Corbin sitting on Adam’s lap, which shocked him.

Philip sat in the middle of them all and very solemnly said, “We’ve made Mama a treasure box, and we’ve all put treasures in it.”

“Things she considers treasures or things you consider treasures?” Adam asked.

None of the children seemed to understand the question, so Adam looked at Lucas.

“Whatever they think she will be happy to find in the box,” he explained. “It is an . . . eclectic collection so far.”

“You have to put something in it too,” Philip said. “You are one of Mama’s boys. You have to give her a treasure.”

“I don’t have anything to give her.” It had been one of Adam’s worries during the journey to Nottinghamshire.

Lucas slipped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed. “You’ll think of something. I have complete faith in you.”

***

Christmas Day

“Mama. Mama. Mama. Mama. Mama.”

Mother Julia met her oldest’s eyes. “Philip.”

Understanding slid over his features. He took a deep breath and slowly released it. Adam had seen him do precisely that a few times during his visit. He suspected the boy had been given very specific instructions on what to do when he was overly excited.

“It’s Christmas, Mama,” Philip said, nearly all his exuberance now firmly in place. “You have to have your Christmas surprise.”

“I have been very excited about this Christmas surprise,” Mother Julia said. “I can hardly wait to discover what it is.”

“It’s a treasure box!” Layton exclaimed.

“Layton.” Philip scolded his brother. “You can’t tell her what the surprise is. You’re ruining it.”

“I didn’t tell her what was in it,” Layton shot back.

“It’s a treasure box. She will know it has treasure in it.”

“Treasure comes in many forms,” Adam said. “She will still be surprised. No need to come to blows.”

With no more reassurance than that, the two oldest set aside their quarrel, rushing away together to collect the treasure box, which Lucas had brought into the room earlier.

Mother Julia, who sat beside Adam, patted his hand. “Well done, Adam. You handled that brilliantly.”

“I think I am getting better at knowing what to do with children. I never interact with any.”

She squeezed his hand. “You’ll simply have to come visit us more often. We have plenty.”

He met her eyes. Feeling a little foolish for the emotional admission yet unable to leave it unspoken, he said, “I would like that very much.”

She smiled so softly, the same smile he had learned to love almost immediately during that first Christmas with her and Lucas. “So would I.”

Philip and Layton arrived directly in front of her and dropped the leather box on her lap. They bounced with excitement. Corbin and Jason were distracted with climbing all over their father, Jason offering a running commentary and Corbin nodding along. It was the usual approach for them both.

Mother Julia opened the box. Her two oldest sons could not have looked more excited. Adam, to his frustration, was nervous again. He didn’t like feeling upended or unsure of himself.

She pulled a toy soldier out, one quite a bit worse for the wear. “Oh, Layton. This is your favorite soldier.”

“Your brother was a soldier,” Layton said, leaning against her legs.

“Yes, he was.”

“This soldier is like him. You can think about your brother.”

Mother Julia leaned to him and gave him a quick motherly kiss. “It is perfect, my little Layton. Will you keep hold of him for me?”

Layton nodded, accepting the offered toy.

She next pulled out a small bundle wrapped in cloth and tied with twine. She tugged at one end of the bow, untying it. The fabric fell open, revealing a half dozen ginger biscuits.

“Jason and Corbin insisted on those,” Lucas said. “Even they know ginger biscuits are your favorites.”

“Thank you, my sweet boys,” she said to them, though they didn’t seem to be paying much attention, busy as they were climbing on their father as if he were an obliging tree. Lucas appeared to be in heaven.

Mother Julia took the topmost biscuit and broke it in half, giving one half each to Layton and Philip. She held out the second biscuit to Adam.

“These are your treasures,” he objected.

“The people in this room are my treasures.” Just as when he’d been eight years old, her loving, welcoming smile soothed much of the ache he carried with him.

He accepted the biscuit, but he was too discomposed to eat it.

“Look at mine next.” Philip tapped the leather box.

Mother Julia pulled out a long ribbon in a pretty shade of green-tinted blue. “Is this from you?”

Philip nodded. “It was at Grandmother’s house, but it is the same color as your cloak, so it should be for you.”

“It is the same color.” Mother Julia tied it in a loose loop around her neck, almost like a piece of jewelry. “I’ll wear it like this for now, sweeting.”

Her oldest smiled broadly, clearly quite proud of himself. “Now look at Adam Grace’s.”

Mother Julia looked at him once more. “Did you put a treasure in here for me?”

He nodded. “But it isn’t anything impressive, certainly nothing that can be considered a treasure.”

“You think too poorly of yourself, my Adam. You are a remarkable person, wonderfully thoughtful, resilient, and, as I’ve been telling you for five years now, incredibly brave.”

“I try to be all those things,” he said.

“You succeed.”

“Look at Adam Grace’s treasure,” Philip demanded. “It is part of the Christmas surprise.”

Mother Julia reached inside the box and pulled out The History of Little Goody Two-Shoes .

“You have your own children now. You can read it to them.” He was proud of his steady voice. He didn’t know if Mother Julia would appreciate his offering, but it had been one of his most cherished possessions for five years now. Giving it to her so her boys could have the same tender moments he’d had listening to her read it hurt more than a little. But he hid that with the fierce expertise he had gained over the last half decade. “They would enjoy having you read it to them. I know they would.”

“You had it with you at Harrow?” she asked.

He nodded. Like the carved horse, he always took Mother Julia’s book with him wherever he went.

“And you want my boys to be read the story?”

Adam swallowed with some difficulty. “I am too old for it now.”

Mother Julia had given the book as a show of love. Letting it go felt like losing some of his connection to her. He could hardly bear it. But she would be happier if her sons were happier. Mother Julia was the one who had taught him that loving someone meant wanting them to be happy.

She scooted closer to him on the sofa. She took his hand in his, her other hand resting on the book on her lap.

“Do you remember, Adam, that first Christmas when you gave Nurse Robbie the gift of building a life with her darling Mr. Simpkin, free of guilt or worry over you?”

“I wanted her to be happy.” It had hurt though. It still did sometimes.

“I hear from her now and then, and she is happy.”

“I’m glad.” He’d missed her horribly that first year. And he still thought of her and wished he could see her more often. But she was happy and loved. That was what he wanted for her, she who had loved him at a time when he’d felt very alone.

“You gave her that, my wonderful, brave Adam. I hope you realize how remarkable that is, how remarkable you are.”

Mother Julia always managed to make him feel less alone and less overwhelmed. She was remarkable.

“What I would love from this treasure”—she tapped the book—“is if, when you are visiting us, you would read it to the boys.”

“You want me to read it?”

“Older brothers often read to their younger brothers the books their parents read to them.”

He couldn’t help a hopeful flip of his heart. “I’m not their older brother,” he reminded her.

“You are one of my boys, Adam Boyce, and I would love for you to read this story to my little boys.” She sounded sincere, and he didn’t think she was speaking out of pity. “That means you will need to bring it with you when you visit.”

Bring it with him. “I am to keep it?”

“This will be Adam Grace’s story, the one they get to hear from you. I would love that. I would love for all of you to have that special connection.”

She set the book on his lap. He laid his free hand on it, relief washing over him, knowing he wouldn’t lose it. But more even than that, he felt hopeful.

“I’ll have to visit a few times to get through the story,” he warned.

She leaned closer and, in a conspiratorial whisper, said, “Part of your gift to me, Adam.”

“Did you like our treasure box, Mama?” Layton asked, walking his toy soldier on the floor by her feet.

“I love it,” she said. “And I love all you boys.”

Adam hoped he truly would always be included in that count. While the little ones ran about rambunctiously, he remained on the sofa beside the lady who had filled such an enormous hole in his heart these past years, watching the gentleman who had done the same.

“I am so grateful you’re here with us, Adam,” Mother Julia said.

“And I am grateful Nurse Robbie brought me to Brier Hill five years ago. It was, without question, a life-altering gift.”

“For us as well,” she said. “It brought you into our lives, and we love you so dearly.”

“Family is who you choose,” Lucas said to him. “And we will choose you forever.”

Nurse Robbie hadn’t allowed Adam to turn down the invitation that had brought him to Brier Hill, no matter that he’d argued with her about it. She had brought him to their home when he’d been lonely, grieving, and lost in so many ways. And they had loved him ever since.

Mother Julia had praised the gift he’d given Nurse Robbie. But even as heartrendingly difficult as that sacrifice had been, he was and always would be indebted to her for what she had given him.

Family. Hope. And love.