Chapter Twenty-One
Harry poured himself a glass of scotch and took a sip before pressing the call button on the desk in his study. He really did hate using it, since it wasn't just some servant he was calling to fetch things for him; it was Malcolm who was only a servant in the most technical sense. Though Malcolm was always telling him to stop shouting all over the house.
"Thank you for not bellowing at me," Malcolm said upon entering the study. "What do you need?"
"Can you have the children come join me in here, please?" Harry requested. He did not bother responding to the comment about him bellowing.
"Of course," Malcolm replied. He did not ask any further questions, for which Harry was appreciative.
Harry sat down on the sofa with his drink and quietly begged his heart to stop pounding. He had nervous butterflies in his stomach. To talk to his own children! Absolutely ridiculous.
A moment later, Graham came bounding in. "Hi, Dad!"
"Hello," Harry greeted. "Come have a seat."
Graham's face was beaming. Harry knew it was rare for him to invite him into the study. They spent most of their time as a family at the dining table or in the living room. The study was Harry's space alone. And that was partly why he wanted to do this in here.
Catherine entered the room looking much less excited than her brother. "What are we doing here?" she demanded immediately. Already with a sour expression.
"I'd like to talk to both of you. And I thought it might be a nice change of pace to do it in here," he explained.
"Can I have some of your scotch?" Catherine asked.
"No, you may not," Harry snapped.
"Why?"
"Because you're fourteen."
"So?"
"The legal drinking age is eighteen."
"Since when have you cared about things like that?"
Harry had to admit she had a point. "You can try a sip later," he conceded. "And if you want, you may have one glass of wine at dinner on weekends and that's all."
"Me too?" Graham asked hopefully.
"No," Harry sternly replied. "You can when you turn fourteen. And anyway, that's not what I wanted you to talk about. I wanted to talk about Ruth."
"Is Ruth okay?"
"Oh what did you do now!?"
Harry almost laughed at his children's simultaneous questions being so of their natures. Graham being full of concern for someone he admired and Catherine being so quick to think it was Harry's fault. "Ruth is fine and I didn't do anything," he told them. The latter half of that response wasn't entirely accurate, but he certainly wasn't going to tell his children—or anyone at all—that he'd been so well-shagged that he'd proposed marriage while still inside her. Harry sighed and forced himself to address the issue at hand. "I want to ask her to marry me, and I want to know what you think about that."
Graham gasped with joy. "Really!? Does that mean she'll be our new mum and be with us all the time?"
"Assuming she says yes," Harry said, tempering the excitement. And he loved that Graham was such an enthusiastic boy. Most children that age were 'too cool' to be excited about much of anything. Not Graham. He wore his heart on his sleeve, for better or worse.
"Hang on," Catherine interjected. "What's going to happen if you marry her? Is she going to live here with us?"
"I assume so, yes." He'd not thought about that. But surely she wouldn't imagine he and the children would move into her townhouse. They could get a new place for them, but this house was the only home Catherine and Graham had ever known. Harry couldn't imagine that Ruth would want to take them away from it. Unless there was some rule about the princess not being able to live in Harry's house. Christ, that was a whole other issue. An issue they all needed to consider. "But remember that Ruth is a princess so she's got responsibilities and such. And if she marries me, some of that might be our responsibility, too."
Catherine frowned at that. "How do you mean? What would we have to do?"
"I don't really know actually. Probably attend state dinners and parties at the palace. Ruth probably would do more of it, but I'd imagine we'd be expected to be there."
"That sounds really fun," Graham ventured.
"Would that make me a princess?" Catherine asked.
"No, I don't think so," Harry answered. "I assume because you're not Ruth's children, you wouldn't be made royalty."
Catherine did not seem bothered one way or the other about that. "But she'd be our new mum if you married her?"
"Stepmother, yes. I don't think either of us anticipate that she'd need to do much mothering. You two had a wonderful mother, and neither Ruth nor I want to replace her."
"So why would you marry her?"
Her question was not spoken with vitriol, but Harry was bothered by it all the same. "Because I love her," he defended. "And I want her to be my wife."
"Dad, does she want to be our stepmother?" Graham asked. "I really like Ruth and I think it would be fun to have her around more, but what if she wants to marry you but not be our stepmother? Would…would you send us away again?"
Harry's heart broke to hear his son's frightened tone. "No, never. Even if Ruth didn't want to be your stepmother and wanted to send you away, I wouldn't let her. I only ever sent you away before because I was stationed overseas and I could have you be here alone," Harry told them.
"You could have left us with Malcolm," Catherine pointed out. "You do that now."
He shook his head. "Not for months at a time. And that's not fair for Malcolm either. He's your godfather, but I am your father, and you are my responsibility."
"Since when?" Catherine scoffed.
"Since the moment you were born!" Harry fired back. "Look, I know I've been a terrible father for most of your lives, but I am trying to do better. And whatever happens with me and Ruth in the future, you're both a part of it."
He heard Ruth's words ringing in his ears, the way she'd reminded him that their relationship was not, unfortunately, just for the two of them alone. There was her family to consider and his. And if he'd bothered to think through anything beyond his overwhelming love for her in that moment, he'd not have proposed to her without discussing it with the children first. Well, he was now. He'd do things properly now.
Harry softened and asked, "Catherine, now that I've answered all your questions, will you tell me what you think?"
She looked at him with those big brown eyes of hers. Her mother's eyes. Beautiful and curious and intelligent. "You've been better since you've been with Ruth," she began carefully. "And I know it's because you love her and she makes you happy. And I really like her, too. And if she wants to live with us and be our stepmother, I think that would be really nice."
There was a hesitation there that Harry did not quite trust. "But?"
Catherine shrugged. "Like Graham said. I just don't want you to send us away again. Or leave us here while you're off doing whatever else. If you're going to be our dad and she's going to be our stepmother, you should actually be here for it."
Harry nodded. He did not want to make promises he did not know if he could keep just yet, so he did not try. He turned to his son. "Graham, what do you think?"
"I love Ruth," Graham said without an ounce of his sister's measured hesitation. "I want her to marry you and come live with us and be here. And it might be fun to go to parties at the palace!"
"Yes, it might," Harry chuckled, humoring the boy. Personally, he did not think it would be fun to go to parties at the palace. Lots of stuffy people wearing formal dress. But if he got to spend the evening with Ruth and even the children, it might be made more enjoyable. They'd just have to see. All of this was putting the cart before the horse somewhat.
"So when are you going to propose?" Graham asked eagerly.
"I don't know. I have to ask permission from the king. And I only met the king when I was knighted all those years ago, so I'm not quite sure how I'll manage to get to have an audience to ask him for consent to marry his granddaughter. But we'll figure something out."
Catherine's brow furrowed slightly. "Does Ruth know you want to marry her?"
Harry needed to tread carefully here. "Yes," he said simply.
"So she wants to marry you?"
Again, Harry needed to be cautious. "She told me she does not want to say no when I propose to her. But I need to be sure that everything's alright with you two first and then get permission from her family before I can propose properly."
That seemed to satisfy Catherine. A hint of a smile appeared on her lips. "Have you picked out a ring yet?"
"No, why?" he asked warily.
"Can I help you pick it out?"
More than anything else, Harry took that as a sign of encouragement from his daughter. Encouragement and blessing, even. Harry hadn't thought at all about a ring for Ruth, and that would take quite a lot of thought indeed. After all, what could he possibly offer to the princess that she didn't already have? Ruth wasn't really one for finery like that, probably because she had too much of it thrust upon her. Harry would need to find something beautiful and worthy of the princess but elegant and meaningful enough to honor Ruth herself. And Catherine did have an eye for artistic things. She'd probably be a great help.
"Dad?"
"Yes, Catherine?"
"Can I try your scotch now?"
He laughed, "Yes, alright. But I don't think you're gonna like it."
"I'm tougher than I look," she grumbled.
Harry did not doubt that, but single malt scotch was certainly an acquired taste. He passed her his glass. Graham watched on with a great deal of interest. Catherine sniffed it and jerked back almost instantly. Even Harry did not spend a lot of time sniffing ninety-proof alcohol. But Catherine was not one to back down from much of anything. Stubborn like her father, that one. Cautiously, she lifted the glass to her lips and sipped the amber liquid. And immediately, she started coughing. Harry took the glass away from her so it wouldn't spill. Her eyes were watering and she was gasping for breath.
"Graham, go get some water for her," Harry instructed. He put the glass on the table and scooted over to her, rubbing her back soothingly. "I did warn you," he said softly.
"How can you drink that!?" she asked with a hoarse voice.
"Years of practice," he chuckled.
"You're insane."
"I've been called worse."
Catherine looked at him and started to laugh. Harry gave her his handkerchief to wipe her eyes. She leaned against him as she did, and Harry took the opportunity to hold her.
Graham came back a moment later and gave Catherine her water. He sat down on Harry's other side, and both children rested themselves in his arms.
"Dad, I'm really excited for Ruth to be our stepmother," Graham said softly.
"Me too," Harry replied. And he smiled.