The Aristocrat

Felicity blushed. The fact that I still had that effect on her pleased me to no end.

She went to the living room and greeted my mother with a standard, formal kiss on each cheek.

Mum was still fairly close to my ex-wife, which I knew made Felicity a bit uncomfortable—not because she had anything against Darcie, but because my mother’s relationship with my ex was stronger than with her. Technically, under the peerage rules, both Darcie and Felicity were allowed the title of Duchess of Westfordshire, although Felicity still couldn’t get used to it. She’d smile awkwardly with a hint of a grimace anytime anyone called her “Your Grace.” But she handled it with grace, in any case.

As for Darcie, she had recently reconnected with her former lover, Gabriel Davies, who himself was now divorced. He confessed that he’d always regretted ending things with her and wanted a second chance. Given that she’d still had lingering feelings for him when we first got together, one might say everything ended up the way it was meant to.

After lunch, we all moved to the dining room and gathered around Eloise as she blew out the candles on her Hello Kitty cake. (Her mum had a tiny bit of influence on that choice.) My daughter squealed in joy and clapped along with us as we applauded her. She loved attention. In that sense, she wasn’t anything like her mother.

After the cake time was over, I looked at Felicity, and she nodded, giving me the go-ahead.

Clearing my throat, I said, “So, we have some news.” I took her hand.

My mother placed her teacup down. “Oh?”

I took a deep breath in. “We’re having another baby.”

Mum’s mouth dropped, and I knew what she was thinking: Please God, let it be a boy.

Before she could get her hopes up too much, I announced, “And it’s a girl.”

I paused to allow my mother a moment. My entire existence for so long had been about producing a male heir to carry on the Covington name. I’d come to terms with the fact that it might never happen. It didn’t matter to me, although I knew it had mattered to my father. I tried to hold on to the advice Nan had given me—that wherever my father was now, he saw things from a different perspective and understood what truly mattered. Carrying on one’s family name for vanity’s sake ultimately wasn’t the purpose of life.

“You found out already?” my mother asked.

“Yes,” Felicity said. “We had an ultrasound. I’m actually about four months along, but we wanted to wait until we were sure everything looked okay before we announced it.”

Sigmund came around to our side of the table and offered us each a hug. “Congratulations, guys.”

When he returned to his seat, Felicity and I once again glanced at each other.

“I’ll tell him,” she whispered. “We were thinking about naming her Britney.” She paused. “If that’s okay with you, Sig. We wouldn’t want to upset you in any way. We only want to honor her if it would bring you joy and not sadness.”

My cousin sat speechless. Then his eyes began to glisten. He stood from his chair. “Excuse me a moment.”

The only time I’d ever seen him cry was right after his wife died. But I suspected he was doing that very thing right now in the bathroom.

Felicity looked a bit panicked. And honestly, I wondered whether we’d made a mistake.

Even my stone-cold mother looked as if she were about to cry.

I knew time hadn’t really healed his wounds. I wondered whether he’d be able to give his heart to anyone else in this lifetime. Maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe we only get one great love. I knew if something were to happen to Felicity, I could never love another person the same way, and no one would ever replace her. Why would Sigmund be any different?

That reminded me of something I’d once told Felicity, back when we first met: “a connection between two people is no less valuable if cut short by circumstances.” Perhaps Sigmund and Britney were the greatest example of that.

My cousin finally emerged, and while his eyes were a bit red, there wasn’t a tear in sight.

He smiled. “Thank you for wanting to name your daughter after her. Despite what my nearly losing it might imply, there’s nothing in the world that would make me happier.”

Felicity placed her hand on his arm. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I can’t wait to tell her parents.” He grinned. “And if the doctors were wrong and it turns out you’re having a boy, I fully expect you to name him Sigmund.”

Everyone burst into laughter.

If the Covington name ended with me, so be it. I’d die a happy man, surrounded by my beautiful, redheaded angels. Or perhaps my daughters would go against the guard and refuse to change their names, remaining Covingtons after all.