Chapter Thirteen

Harry was nervous. Not nervous like he'd been on their first date, but nervous for a very different reason. This time it was not himself who he was worried of being found wanting. No, this time, he had two living, breathing, thinking, terrifying beings who might do something to jeopardize what was, in all honesty, the very best thing in his life.

He wanted so much for this to go well. It was perhaps a bit early for him to introduce Ruth to his children, but he really couldn't put it off much longer. Graham had become fascinated with what his father was up to on the nights he didn't spend at home. Catherine was less excitable about the whole thing, but even she could not prevent her obvious curiosity from showing through. He'd told them as much as he felt comfortable with. Her name was Ruth, she was very intelligent, she worked with him in Foreign Intelligence and spoke a dozen languages, she was very pretty, and Harry liked her very much. And really, that was all there was to it. The children certainly didn't need to know that the sex was absolutely phenomenal, which was the only missing highlight about Ruth in Harry's mind. Catherine was fourteen now and far too mature for her age already, but she had absolutely no need to even contemplate the idea of her father's sex life. And Graham, now twelve, was just starting to comprehend what such things were. Harry hoped to keep the boy's innocence intact just a bit longer.

As Harry paced by the door, waiting for Ruth to arrive, he hoped that she had remembered what he'd said about her attire. He absolutely adored her in clothes that showed off her lovely figure and beautiful skin, but he really did not want her in such things around his twelve-year-old son. The last thing Harry needed was for Graham to develop a crush on her.

"You're nervous."

Harry turned to see Malcolm watching him from the doorway that led to the kitchen. "Dinner ready?" Harry asked him in response.

"Nearly. But I sensed pacing, and I was right," Malcolm replied. He walked over to where Harry was paused. "What is it you're worried about? Who do you think won't like who?"

"I'm not worried about Ruth at all. She doesn't have much experience around children, I don't think, but I can't see how anyone in the world wouldn't adore her. And she's very kind and gentle, I don't think she'll have trouble with Graham and Catherine. But I just hope they don't make it difficult for her." Harry did not have great faith in his children in that regard.

"You think she'll leave you if your daughter is rude to her?"

Harry scoffed, "No, of course not, but you know Ruth's got enough to contend with. And I suppose…" He trailed off, not wanting to speak the words out loud.

"You're worried she'll decide you're not worth the effort of two difficult children," Malcolm finished.

Oh Harry hated that his friend knew him so well sometimes. But before Harry could say anything in response, the doorbell range. "Bollocks," he swore to himself. To Malcolm, he said, "Answer the door and deal with the bodyguard. Let him do whatever he needs to. I'm going to go beg Graham and Catherine to behave. Again."

He hurried upstairs and went first to Catherine's room. He knocked softly on the door, and she called for him to come in.

"Hello, sweetheart," he greeted warily.

"I promise I won't be rude," she said before he could even bring it up. Her tone was sharp, something he'd been getting used to.

"And I thank you for that. But I just…" Harry sat down on the edge of bed, looking down at the pretty pale blue duvet. He sighed and then looked back up to his daughter, staring at him from her spot perched on the pillows with a book in her hands. "Catherine, this woman is extremely important to me, and I just want this to go well." It was a moment of uncharacteristic earnestness from him toward her, and he did not know how she would take it.

Catherine searched his face, likely testing his sincerity. "Do you love her? Like you loved Mum?"

Harry did not quite know how to answer that. "Not quite."

And then his daughter said something that proved that wisdom beyond her years that Harry had suspected for a long time. "You didn't really love Mum, did you? I mean not like you're supposed to?"

He was rendered somewhat speechless at that.

"It's okay. You don't have to say. Mum knew. She would talk to me about it sometimes. Before she got really sick. She was sorry that she married you when she knew that you didn't love her enough and as much as she loved me and Graham and having us, she said it wasn't fair to bring children into a marriage that wasn't happy."

"Your mother said that?"

Catherine nodded.

Harry was amazed. Though he'd always known Jane to be an incredibly deep person. She studied literature in school, and not just as a subject to waste time on before finding a husband as so many women did. Jane had truly loved her books and their characters. She understood much more about humanity that Harry had at the time. Always better at putting things into words than he was. He had gotten a bit better at that over the years, particularly now that he had the children all on his own, but verbal expressions and the like were still not his forte. Come to think of it, Ruth had that brilliant way with words that Jane had possessed. Perhaps Harry did have something of a type.

"Dad, is she waiting for you downstairs?" Catherine asked, shaking him back to reality.

"Oh yes, probably."

"I don't think you're supposed to keep a lady waiting," she teased.

Harry smiled. "No, best not." He stood up and went towards his daughter, kissing her forehead gently. "Thank you, sweetheart."

She nodded, looking up at him affectionately—what a thing! "See you for dinner."

With that, Harry went quickly down the hall to have a quick word with Graham. His son was practically bouncing off the walls when he came into the room.

"Dad, is Ruth here!? Can I go say hello?" he asked eagerly.

"Settle down, please," Harry requested gently.

"But is she here?"

In that moment, Graham reminded Harry of something like a puppy, tripping over his own limbs and practically vibrating with excitement. "I think she is here," Harry answered. "And you and your sister will meet her at dinner. She and I are going to have a drink beforehand and I'll show her around the house a bit. Malcolm will come up and get you when it's time, alright?"

Graham deflated slightly. "Yeah, alright."

"It won't be too long. And when you do meet here, please remember to use your manners and not ask impertinent questions," Harry warned.

"Dad?" Graham began with a slightly furrowed brow.

"Yes?"

"Do you think she'll like me?"

If Graham were a little boy still, Harry would have pulled him into his arms and held him tight. But as it was, Graham was becoming a young man and deserved to be treated as such and not infantilized. "I have no doubt she'll like you. How could anyone not like you, Graham?" Harry replied warmly.

Graham brightened. "Good."

And at last, Harry could go downstairs and greet Ruth. She was waiting for him in the foyer, standing there looking slightly uncomfortable. "Sorry to keep you waiting," Harry said, jogging down the last few stairs toward her. He was extremely pleased to see that she was wearing a long black skirt and loose blue jumper.

Ruth smiled to see him. "No bother. Tom is patrolling the perimeter. Malcolm was here until something chimed in the kitchen and he rushed off."

Harry leaned in to kiss her hello. "I'm glad you're here. You look very pretty."

She looked down at herself with confusion. "You said casual. Which this is. I don't think I'd go so far as 'pretty.'"

He smiled. "I think you're pretty wearing anything. And especially pretty wearing anything," he teased.

Ruth blushed slightly at that, which he quite liked.

"Shall we have a drink? Malcolm will get us when dinner is ready."

"Yes, please. I'd like to see more of this gorgeous house."

"It's no palace," he shrugged.

Ruth swatted his arm for that remark, and they both laughed.

Harry poured her a cocktail in his study while she perused his bookshelves. They drank a toast and he took her around the main floor of the house to see the family sitting area with the television, the formal ballroom from the old days when he and Jane used to host parties, and the dining room which was all set by Malcolm. He was going to take her upstairs to see the bedrooms, but dinner was ready by then.

"You both sit, and I'll get everyone situated before I serve," Malcolm said.

Ruth had an odd look on her face at that, but Harry did not press her. She knew that if she had questions, she could ask. Harry pulled out her chair for her and took his place at the head of the table beside her. Catherine would sit on his left with Graham next to her and Malcolm on the other side of Ruth.

Graham came thundering in first. So much for settling down. "Hi Ruth, I'm Graham!" he greeted exuberantly.

"Oh…hello…" Ruth greeted in return. She immediately looked uneasy, which Harry did not like one bit. He glared at Graham, hoping the boy would calm down.

Catherine came sauntering in a second later. She got one look at Ruth and her eyes went wide. "Ruth!?"

"Yes?" Ruth responded confusedly.

Without another word, Catherine raced out of the dining room. "Catherine, sit down!" Harry called after her to no avail.

Malcolm brought the plates from the kitchen and served everyone. Catherine came running back just as he sat town. "Dad, why are you dating the princess!?" she shrieked, throwing something down at Harry's place.

There, on the front page of the newspaper, was a photograph of King George knighting someone at the ceremony from the night before. And there, behind him, was Ruth, looking poised and pretty in her pale gown and tiara.

Harry looked back up to his shocked children. "Oh, didn't I mention? Yes, this is Princess Louisa. She goes by Ruth."

"Hello," Ruth said awkwardly.

The night went much differently than Harry expected after that. Both of the children were peppering Ruth with questions about being a princess and why and how she worked with Harry if she was a princess. Ruth herself seemed to be enjoying herself, just as pleasant and happy and friendly as Harry always knew her to be. And both Graham and Catherine seemed to adore her. Which is exactly what he'd hoped for.