That night, sitting on Ian’s lap by the fireplace, Laura spoke softly. With his arm around her waist, Ian, who was reading the original text of a novel she was about to translate, responded.

“Really?”

“Yes. It was touching, sad, and fulfilling. The kind of emotions a parent might feel.”

Ian chuckled.

“Good thing Henry and I are only eight years apart. I almost got misunderstood by you.”

“What misunderstanding?”

“That my sister raised my child from another woman.”

“Why would I think that? I know you.”

Ian met Laura’s gaze.

“What kind of man do you know me to be?”

“A true gentleman, refined and principled.”

“Oh, that’s high praise.”

He lightly kissed her lips and returned to his book. Soon, he frowned.

“Damn, I haven’t used French in a while, and now I’m stumbling over every word. Laura, what’s abbé?”

“‘Priest.’”

“Right, that’s it. ‘Priest.’”

“Darling, why don’t you stop reading? This is my work, you know.”

“I’m curious how you’ll translate it.”

“Then read the translation. It’s a headache otherwise.”

“It’s a chance to brush up on my French. By the way, I didn’t ask Henry how he liked the novel you translated.”

“La Nouvelle Héloïse?”

“Yes. I sent him a copy.”

Laura’s cheeks flushed.

“Why did you do that?”

“I wanted to showcase your intellect before your beauty. Men get swayed by appearances and only later appreciate substance. If he knows what a brilliant translator his aunt is, he’ll respect you and treat you like a mother.”

Laura was flustered.

“A mother?”

“What? Don’t you want to be close to Henry like a mother and son?”

“It’s not that…”

Laura gently shifted the topic.

“I was right, wasn’t I? You see Henry as a son.”

“Yes, you nailed it. He’s like a son. Like a brother or a friend too, but mostly a son.”

He rested the spine of the book against his chin, smiling faintly.

“Henry was my first nephew, born when I was eight. I felt responsible for him. Not long after he was born, my brother Robert fell from a horse and was bedridden. I wanted to fill the void of a father. Funny, right? I was just a kid myself back then.”

“…”

“I taught him everything I knew. Skimming stones, fishing, riding, card games, spelling, the long list of Henry VIII’s wives. He followed me so closely that William, who played with us, got jealous. I could feel it. Henry loved me. He saw me as a father. I vowed to keep him close and love him forever, never letting him feel lonely or hurt.”

“He’s truly a special nephew to you.”

“Olivia might feel slighted hearing this, but the first nephew is different from the rest. Is this what it feels like to have a first child?”

Laura wrapped her arms around Ian’s neck, leaning into him. A sigh escaped her lips unconsciously.

“Tired?”

“No.”

“You seem down.”

“How could I be? I’m sitting on my love’s lap.”

“Are you jealous of Henry?”

“…”

“Really?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“It’s just… I can’t relate to your feelings. I’ve never met my mother’s nephews. I don’t even know if my father’s nephews exist, and honestly, I don’t care to find out.”

Ian gently rubbed Laura’s back.

“Olivia, Daniel, George, and Henry are all your nephews too.”

Laura shook her head.

“It’s not about feeling empty. It’s just… I didn’t know what a first nephew means. I’ve never had one. I knew you cared for Henry, but I didn’t realize it was like a parent’s love. Now that I understand, I feel I should be kinder to him.”

“Don’t feel pressured.”

His voice was concerned. Laura hugged his neck tighter.

“I won’t. I may not be a mother to him, but we’ll get along. He’s like a son to you.”

“Do you not like Henry? Come to think of it, he seemed a bit shy around you earlier.”

“It’s just awkwardness. On both sides. We’re only seven years apart, so it’s natural it’s hard to be formal. I struggle to be completely at ease with him too.”

“I see.”

Laura smiled and shook her head.

“Don’t worry, darling. We’ll get closer in time. The more time we spend together, the more natural it’ll feel. We’re all one family, after all. You know I see everyone at Dunville Park as my own kin.”

“Of course. I’m always grateful for that. And I always will be.”

Laura pressed her cheek against her husband’s.

“I’m confident. I’ll be a motherly aunt to Henry. A reliable, trustworthy adult. The boy you vowed to protect at eight—I’ll share that responsibility with you. You and I are one fate, bound by God.”

He brushed his lips against her cheek.

“One fate. That’s a beautiful phrase.”

He began tracing her waistline.

‘I hope Henry isn’t an ungrateful person.’

Hiding her complex feelings, she buried her face in her husband’s neck.

“Madam, Mrs. Dalton from Whitefield Hall is here.”

In the parlor of Dunville Park, Lady Fairfax, dozing by the fireplace wrapped in a silver fox fur shawl, stirred at the servant’s voice.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and Laura entered, elegantly dressed in a purple satin gown that fit her slender frame perfectly. Lady Fairfax felt the room brighten the moment Laura stepped in. The cold weather had been aggravating her back and hip joints, leaving her in low spirits, but Laura’s fresh and lovely appearance lifted her mood.

‘She always wears clothes so well. Just like her mother in her youth.’

Laura approached and curtsied lightly.

“Good day, sister-in-law.”

“Come, Laura, sit. But why are you alone? Where’s Ian?”

Sitting across from her sister-in-law, Laura replied with a glum expression.

“He’s terribly busy. It’s about the civil engineering issues at the Banzley refinery.”

“The one with the stolen timber?”

“It’s worse than we thought. Noel and Jack Moss estimated the value of the stolen timber at over ten thousand pounds.”

“Ten thousand pounds? Were they planning to build the Taj Mahal with it?”

Laura sighed.

“That’s not all. The building deviates entirely from the blueprints shown to Ian, and it’s so poorly constructed that a child could knock it down. This can’t be the work of a few laborers. The legal counsel believes at least a company executive is involved. Ian’s convinced it goes up to the president.”

“Goodness. This is headed for court.”

“He’s furious. You know how meticulous he is in business. Corruption, embezzlement, fraud—those are the things he despises most.”

“Of course I know. He’s notorious in Yorkshire for his temper. When he took over the family, Whitefield Hall already had a land agent, Leon, the only son of a dear friend of our father’s. Father even left a will asking Ian to look after him. But it turned out Leon was taking bribes left and right in leasing and sales.”

“How much?”

“Not much money. Fifty pounds or so. But he profited in other ways. He preyed on the daughters of tenants and farmers. Guess where he is now?”

“Where?”

Lady Fairfax crossed her wrists in an X, signaling prison.

“My word.”

“Ian sued him and even went to a magistrate he wasn’t on good terms with to plead. He asked for the gallows if possible, but if the law didn’t allow it, then the longest sentence possible. Leon’s father came begging, citing his bond with our father, but Ian didn’t flinch. Leon got life in prison.”

Laura wasn’t surprised. She’d known his character before marriage. Fastidious, opinionated, blunt, and decisive. He acted on conviction and principle over personal gain, shrugging off criticism. That was Ian Dalton’s attitude toward anyone outside family.

“That engineering firm is in trouble.”

“Might as well call it bankrupt. They probably thought Ian, tied up in Banzley and the mining sites, wouldn’t notice, and a thirty-two-year-old gentleman could be easily duped. They picked the wrong man to scam. Ian will hound them until they shut down.”

A shadow crossed Laura’s face.

She wasn’t worried about the engineering firm’s future. Though less fastidious than Ian, Laura had always despised corruption, so she understood his anger and supported his actions.

Her concern was Ian’s emotional state.

“He’s been upset constantly. The Banzley mining village is a project he holds dear, so he invested heavily in the refinery. He consulted with the company for ages, securing promises from the president for top-quality timber and skilled workers. It was clearly stated in the contract. For things to go this wrong…”

“Bet he’s not eating well.”

Laura nodded sadly.

“He loses his appetite when he’s upset. Sleep?”

“He sleeps fine.”

“Oh, that’s surprising. With something this big, he’d normally be sleepless for days.”

Lady Fairfax suddenly grinned slyly.

“Does the missus comfort him devotedly every night?”

Laura, flustered, picked up the poker leaning by the fireplace and prodded the logs, hiding her flushed face.

Lately, she’d been singing to Ian every night. Lullabies, folk songs, German lieder. Ian would rest his face against her bare chest, listening. Feeling her hand stroke his hair.

He’d fall fast asleep in her arms before the third song ended.