An Inconvenient Anthology

A Legacy

Rafe exited his carriage with a decided spring in his step. Today marked the last day of the spring term at the Heartwood Seminary for Accomplished Young Ladies, which means that for the next several months, he would have his wife's entire, undivided attention upon his own magnificent self.

This year he had planned a long trip to Italy for himself, Arabella, and Sylvie. And oh, how he would love to snatch Jane away from that blackguard she had been forced to marry a few months ago!

Though she seemed content with her circumstances, Rafe and his son-in-law were at a very precarious truce at the moment. He had wanted better for his precious one than to marry a man because she was compromised, though if his wife were to be believed, little Jane had carried a tendre for Hugh Redford for a long time prior to their marriage.

For that scoundrel! Bah! Surely his daughter had better taste.

Rafe walked passed the hordes of parents come to receive their daughters, bounding up the stairs, passed the various staff that was working at the school, calling out greetings. He nodded to Sylvie's secretary, who had the bouquet and champagne Rafe had sent over earlier ready at her desk. He picked up the gifts and entered into his wife's office, chest puffed with pride.

"Another successful term, well done my darling! Fifteen years, can you imagine?" His vision was obscured for a moment by the large arrangement. He turned to the side to set them down on the table when he heard a quiet, gentle sob. His entire body primed to vanquish any threat to his wife's happiness. Free of his gifts, he turned to face the main desk where his wife sat in her comfortable leather chair. She held a piece of paper in her hands- a letter- and tears streamed down her face as she stared at it frozen save for her eyes that roved the contents again and again.

"Sylvie?" He rushed to her side, "My love, what has happened? Who has upset you?"

And how could he vanquish them? He may be nearer to fifty now, and long retired from his days as The Phantom, but it did not mean he had forgotten how to make someone suffer; physically, fiscally, or emotionally. If he put his mind to it, he was certain it would be like muscle memory.

She locked eyes with him, let out a whimper, and went flying into his arms, sobbing in earnest. His hands wrapped around her, enveloping her, giving her the safe space she needed to let her emotions out.

"Darling, you're scaring me. Is someone dead? Has someone misbehaved with you? Just give me their name love, I will take care of it."

She just shook her head, drawing back to wipe her tears. At his tender expression, she burst into tears once more. He murmured loving words, caressing her neck as she struggled to get control of herself.

"It's g-good news, Rafe. I j-just never thought I would l-live to see it," she cried into his shoulder as he ran soothing circles down her back. He felt his body relax in relief. Happy tears were welcome tears. He sat her back down, poured her a cup of water, and waited for her to gather herself.

"Please do not tell me that my father is yet again expecting another offspring, because I will be ill," he joked lightly, recalling his less than rational reaction when he had found out that Lady Lindsey was expecting Gabriel. In his defense, no one wanted to think of their father as a man of passion. It was a difficult thing to process, seeing the evidence of his father's ardor coming into the world some three months before his thirty-seventh birthday. "That man is very nearly seventy!"

That finally brought a surprised laugh to Sylvie's mouth. 

Finally.

"You are truly wretched," she sniffled fondly, accepting his handkerchief. "I am sorry for the weeping. It is very good news, truly. Do you remember Lady Selene? Lord Rothbury's daughter?"