Emma wasn’t usually one to show up unannounced, but the temptation to see her family for breakfast before they all went their separate ways was too great. For a while longer, all the daughters were back in one place, and Adam and Rose were still there, likely with some plans to start a celebration.

“Oh my God,” Priscilla whispered, staring at the mountains of scones before her. “Do you think this is enough?”

“It is certainly enough,” the baron said.

Adam reached out, taking his fifth one. “I enjoy a challenge,” he said.

The baron might have been annoyed at anyone else threatening to eat him out of house and home, but Adam’s charms and comedic talent had allowed him to do almost anything he wanted with good social grace. “If we run out of scones, Lady Wilkes, then so be it. This may be the last time for quite a while that we will have everyone we love all at one table.”

“Of course,” Priscilla agreed, still eyeing the scones with apprehension.

“I prefer the honey cake anyway, Mama,” Emma said. “Very warm for days like this.”

“Black tea for me,” Colin said, although that never seemed to deter him from stealing a bite of Emma’s cake when she wasn’t looking.

“Get your own!” she teased him.

His eyes narrowed. “What happened to us owning all of my assets in tandem?”

“First of all,” Emma pointed out. “This is cake. Secondly, I hate to have my own words used against me.” To that, Colin gave her an unamused look before stealing her last bite of cake.

Harriet waved her hand to get everyone’s attention. “It was incredible to see everyone at the party last night,” she said. “What a tremendous occasion.”

“How about a toast to your upcoming nuptials?” Colin asked, looking before him for something to toast. He smiled sheepishly and raised his teacup. Everyone around the table followed suit.

“To Harriet!” everyone cheered.

The conversation was full of laughs and warm glances. After the breakfast was finished and several scones lay untouched, a relaxed Priscilla invited everyone to the drawing room.

Harriet and Margaret sat at the pianoforte, playing complicated duets while Lucy, Rose, and Adam danced with excitement. Emma sat beside Colin, their hands pressed beside each other on the couch, pinkies linked. Together they watched their siblings enjoy the morning. It was a cause for celebration in more ways than one. Emma and Colin were married, Harriet was engaged, and Margaret and the viscount were expecting a child.

The baron sat back in his chair, his blue eyes sparkling as he observed the room. Not too long ago, he had often been nose-deep in a book, ignoring moments like these. It was good to see him so present again. He hadn’t been quite this happy in a very long time.

“How will it feel having only two daughters in the house?” Emma asked.

“Oh.” The baron placed a hand on his head and sighed. “Those two girls? Left to their own devices? Without you to keep them in line?”

“Goodness gracious me, my poor nerves are acting up all over again,” Priscilla frowned. “Those scones were the least of my worries; I just knew it!”

“Mama, it is all right!” Emma stood up, walking across the room to pat her mother on the shoulder.

The baron sat up slightly in his seat, looking at the book tucked neatly at the Duke’s side. “Which is that?”

Colin shook his head, chuckling. “Oh, I am struggling to finish it, to be honest with you.” He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. “Water Under the Bridge by Theodore Whitley.”

“Oh, yes, Whitley. I have read that one.” He reached out, and Colin handed it off to him. The baron opened the cover. “What are your thoughts thus far?”

Colin shook his head. “I suppose; I am not sure what it means to say.”

“Well.” The baron thumbed through the pages, getting comfortable in his seat. “What is forgiveness to you?”

Colin stuck his tongue in his cheek. “Hm. Forgiveness is…” He exhaled, never finishing his sentence.

“Try,” urged the baron.

“Forgiveness is the act of ignoring one’s mistakes for peace of mind.”

“That is one way to put it.” That was his diplomatic way of disagreeing. Emma had heard it before. “For me, forgiveness is not something we are entitled to, but it is something we can earn.”

“Interesting way to put it,” Colin said. For him, Emma knew that was his way of conceding defeat and admitting that his answer was wrong.

“But things are never that simple. What earns forgiveness to you and I are surely two different things.” The baron cleared his throat, looking at the last few pages. “At the end, the bridge collapses, and Josephine drowns without having ever forgiven her sister.”

“Mhm.” Colin nodded, eyebrows bunched up in concentration. “I have to…drown?”

The baron tilted his head. It was the sort of sympathetic look an older man would give a son who does not fully understand the ways of the world. It made Emma’s heart flutter. Seeing her father regard her husband in such a way made her feel assured that she had made the right choice for herself. If anyone knew a good man when he saw one, It was her father.

“I interpreted her death as a sacrifice,” the baron said. “Before that chapter, she feels this intense guilt for having so much good happen in her life but still not being satisfied enough to forgive.”

“So she…gives it all up.”

The baron smiled, closing the book. He handed it back. “Sometimes forgiving someone is a sacrifice we must make, even if it hurts our pride. That was my takeaway.”

Colin sighed, leaning back, hitting the couch back with a thud. He poked his tongue in his cheek, rolling the thought across. Emma crossed the room, pressing a gentle hand to his shoulders. His eyes were vacant, but deep down, Emma felt this pressure that had been lifted off of his chest.

“I would love to discuss more literature with you eventually, Your Grace,” the baron said.

“I would enjoy that immensely,” he said, giving Emma an exhausted yet relieved smile.

“You must love me now, brother,” Adam whispered in Colin’s ear, making him jump. Adam shimmied across the carpet, doing a dance.

“Leave me alone,” he whispered sharply, so the baron and baroness didn’t hear.

Adam shrugged before joining the girls in a loud, musical refrain. Emma sat next to Colin. “As terrible the problem your father left you with—”

“I wouldn’t have you,” Colin interjected.

She nodded. “So maybe it really is just water under the bridge.”

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