Chapter 321: Breakfast Interrogation

Miranda looked at Samantha.

Her daughter might have tried to hide what had happened the previous night, but Miranda was her mother. She had survived enough wild nights with her own husband to recognize the signs.

And Samantha was glowing.

Miranda had a hundred questions, but one glance was enough to tell her that this was more than a one-night affair. Whatever had happened between them, there was something deeper underneath it.

Then she looked at Fitzgerald.

He stood calmly behind Samantha, his expression composed. Miranda’s gaze flicked toward the open window.

Ah. Samantha had clearly tried to throw him out. And yet here he was, meeting her eyes without the slightest inclination to run.

Miranda almost smiled. Well. William might load his shotgun. She might have to stop him from actually using it.

“Will pancakes do?” she asked pleasantly.

Fitzgerald smiled and made an okay sign. “Splendidly, Mrs. Preston.”

“They’ll be ready in a jiffy.”

Miranda walked away.

Samantha immediately closed the door and glared at Fitzgerald. He only smiled before leaning down to kiss her.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “I want to marry you.”

Samantha stared at him. Then she looked up at the ceiling and released a long, unsteady breath. “You’re serious.”

Fitzgerald nodded.

Her voice trembled.

“I’m not elegant. I act like new money. I’m loud. I’m brash. I don’t know the etiquette of your world. I’d be mocked.” She swallowed. “I can handle that. But I can’t handle you being mocked because of me.”

Her eyes met his.

“Fudgie, marriage isn’t just about the two of us.”

Fitzgerald bent until they were eye to eye. Whatever teasing amusement had been there disappeared, replaced by a tenderness Samantha had never seen him show anyone else.

“Just be yourself, Sammy,” he murmured. “You can choose to learn the rules if you wish. Or you can choose not to. It makes no difference to me.”

He brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

“I, Fitzgerald Cassian Rathbourne, have enough power and reputation to ensure my wife can remain true to herself.”

His gaze softened.

“And I have more than enough love to let her.”

Samantha’s tears spilled over. She threw her arms around him, burying her face against his chest. “Then let’s do this,” she whispered. “Although my dad can be pretty difficult to convince.”

Fitzgerald rubbed her back. “We’ll find a way.”

—–

At the breakfast table, William sat rigidly upright. His hand rested beneath the table. Only Miranda knew what he was holding. She glanced down and sighed when she caught sight of the handgun.

“So,” William said, his eyes fixed on Fitzgerald. “You’re the boyfriend our daughter dated back in college?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And she had no idea who you really were?”

“No.”

“And then you became involved in the fight against Dorian Blackwood because you believed Samantha had been treated unfairly by her family?”

Fitzgerald nodded. “I mistakenly thought Samantha was being mistreated. I wanted to help her.”

Miranda sighed and looked at her daughter.

“What?” Samantha said defensively. “I was young!”

William’s fingers tightened around the gun beneath the table. Fitzgerald noticed. His eyes flicked downward for the briefest moment before returning to William’s face. Then he smiled.

“Trust your daughter’s choice, Mr. Preston.”

“Oh, I trust my daughter,” William said grimly. He glanced at Samantha. “That’s the problem.”

“Daddy, I was young then.” Samantha lowered her eyes.

She understood why he was worried. She had made a terrible choice once, and this time the man sitting beside her had a reputation that made her father’s concern entirely understandable.

But she reached for Fitzgerald’s hand beneath the table. “I want to spend the rest of my life with Fudgie.”

William stared at her. Then he let out a long breath.

Miranda leaned toward him and whispered, “Cathy knows about their relationship, apparently.”

William’s eyebrows rose. “She does?” Miranda nodded.

William looked at Fitzgerald again. Fitzgerald was holding Samantha’s hand now, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles. William’s expression suggested that he was fighting a losing battle. Finally, he rubbed his thighs and sighed.

“If you want to date, then—”

“We’re getting married,” Fitzgerald said.

William stopped. Completely.

He stared at Fitzgerald as though the man had just announced that he intended to conquer England. Miranda covered her mouth, hiding a smile. William couldn’t say what he was thinking.

He didn’t want to insult his daughter, but Samantha wasn’t exactly the sort of woman one pictured as a Rathbourne lady. She was intelligent, capable, and fiercely independent.

But elegant? Graceful? Well versed in the endless rules of aristocratic society? That seemed considerably farther beyond her reach.

“I cannot deal with this right now.”

William abruptly stood and walked away. Miranda followed him. Fitzgerald watched them leave, then turned toward Samantha.

“I’m not dead yet.”

Samantha looked at him.

“So we’re doing fine, right?”

She burst into laughter.

Fitzgerald stood. “Then let us celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?”

“Our impending marriage.”

He held out his hand. “Show me around.”

Samantha slipped her hand into his. “Gladly.”

Hand in hand, they walked out of the room. William watched them disappear down the hall. He sighed.

“You think they’ll work?”

Miranda leaned on his shoulder, placing her hand on his hand on his thigh. “What are you scared of, Darling?”

William held Miranda’s hand. “He’s not out for money. But… if he is considering our Sammy a plaything…” his voice broke. “She can’t handle another heartbreak, Miranda.”

Miranda looked at him and smiled. “They won’t know whether they can make it work if they don’t try, will they?”

William could only sigh again.

—–

Catherine leaned back against Maximilian’s chest, her back resting comfortably against him as she watched his hand. His other hand wandered toward her chest, and she giggled.

“Mommy issues…”

Maximilian bent down and gently bit her earlobe.

“I might have mommy issues,” he murmured, “but I know my children will have the best mother in the world.”

Catherine’s smile softened. “And they’ll have the best father, too.”

For a while, neither of them spoke. Then Catherine’s voice grew quieter. “How many children can we have, Maximilian?”

“How many do you want?”

She caught his hand and held it against her chest.

“In my previous life, I held more dead children than living ones, Maximilian.” Her voice was soft, but there was something painfully deep beneath it. “This time, I want to have and raise lots of healthy babies.”

Maximilian kissed her cheek. “We will.”

He knew that the loss of her children was a scar in her soul. It might never truly disappear. But perhaps happiness could make the scar hurt less.

“How many is ‘a lot’?” he asked, the corner of his mouth curving upward.

He imagined a house filled with little girls who looked like Catherine. An entire army of them. They would be loud. Clever. Stubborn. They would probably terrify him. And he suspected he would love every single one of them.

“I’m turning twenty-two soon,” Catherine said thoughtfully. “I have at least two decades of good years ahead of me. And there are twins on my mother’s side of the family.”

She looked at him brightly. “So… how about twenty?”

Maximilian’s jaw dropped. “Twenty?”

Catherine pouted. “It’s not as though you have to do anything difficult. I’ll have to carry them and give birth to them. And after that, my family will help. Daddy will be the happiest man alive.”

Maximilian stared at her. He knew they didn’t have the problems many couples faced. They had money. They had family. They had support.

Still… Wouldn’t he be accused of treating a brilliant woman like a glorified baby-making machine?

“And your research?” he asked. “We’d still have to spend time with our children.”

Catherine thought about it. “Right.”

She nodded solemnly. “Twelve, then.”

Maximilian closed his eyes. “Twelve?”

“What?” Catherine asked innocently. “I can’t go any lower.” She turned to face him.

“Pregnancy and children aren’t hurdles, Maximilian. They’re blessings. I can handle science and raising children.”

“Whatever you say.” He kissed her forehead.

Four. Four was the absolute limit. He wasn’t going to put her body through more than that, no matter how enthusiastically she proposed creating an entire dynasty.

Before Catherine could argue further, her stomach growled. She blinked.

Maximilian laughed and immediately got out of bed. “I’ll make you something.”

While he went to the kitchen, Catherine climbed out of bed. The moment she looked at the sheets, however, her face turned scarlet.

“Oh, God.”

She quickly gathered them up, changed the bedding, took a shower, and finally went downstairs. Maximilian was already in the kitchen, heating pancakes.

“Sophia left food for us,” he said.

Catherine smiled. Of course, she had. Then she checked her phone.

“Oh, no!” She nearly dropped it. “My baby asked for apple pie!”

She immediately hurried toward the kitchen.

“Your baby?” Maximilian’s hands stilled. His brows drew together.

“Fitzgerald,” Catherine said, already reaching for the ingredients.

Maximilian’s lips pressed into a thin line.